[continued - let's be safe, rating wise, shall we friends? Children, hide your eyes.]

[just_a_phase]

"I tried that one first. Good luck, Rasputin. You're never getting away."

She might as well have tattooed an "X" on her arm, instead of a dragon around a sword. (She will never tattoo a name, though. Not even his. ...Maybe. Maybe the child who has a name now. But in kanji, for only her to know. For only her to be certain how to translate.)

"Now you get it," she hisses, seeing it click with the sheen of tears, "and by God, if you ever try to guilt me over one thing I did, I will break your arm. Goddamn you."

It's not easy, with his weight, to roll her hips up against his. She does anyway.

She can't remember what the main point of this is anymore. She should have warned him. She knew, she knew, when the box came out, that her grip on her temper was going to be tenuous at best.

It's gone, gone, gone, now, and so are her clothes, and she almost doesn't notice, just sneers back, "I'd hate to impose," and nips his neck, sharply.

Comments

[konocc]

Curse his clumsy fingers and these jeans! He feels confined in an almost painful way.

She wants to be mean? Fine! His left hand cups her hips and behind while his teeth graze her inner thigh. "What -" he asks between his movements "Am I supposed to hold over you this time?" She will answer him, damn it! He's tired of this unspoken crazy between them. "Since I am such a tyrant!"

[just_a_phase]

"That's not yours. If you'd been there, I wouldn't have had to try and replace this sudden gaping hole in me with anything or anyone I could!"

Piotr yelling, Piotr mean--Piotr pushing--is rare.

Is good, maybe. Is needed. This time, or maybe for a while. She doesn't know.

He's bigger, and he's stronger, and phasing won't help her do anything but run, and this time, that's not the answer.

So she yanks at him, pulls him up and tries to roll him over, seeing red all the while as she tries to bite his shoulder.

(Why are you fighting? part of her whispers, and the rest answers, immediately: It's what we do. We are not soft. We can't risk that.)

"What, do you want details? Addresses? Would you like names, dates, phone numbers, genders?"

[konocc]

He rolls with her efforts, pinning himself under her now. He has his answer. It stings, but - he knew already.

"Not unless you want to ask about the Outback? Maybe Peter Nichols?" His voice lowers as he cups her breasts. "The Savage Land? Battle World?"

The thing is with those last two, everyone seemed to know everything already. It irritated him; made him feel ashamed of his ghosts, if for no other reasons then he knew those times had hurt her.

[just_a_phase]

"Oh, right. When you let me think you were dead and weren't," she spits, and yanks at his jeans. "Gee, thanks, I'd almost forgotten about that particular trauma. Ass."

She thought she was seeing red before.

So, she wonders, what color is this that she's seeing now?

She is small, but she is strong; she doesn't bother phasing his jeans off. That would be easy. That would be painless.

It is more satisfying to break the zipper and tear at them, to push him away, to push hard, so she can yank them off.

"Were we even actually broken up at that point, by the way? I think I lost track."

[konocc]

He tries kicking off his jeans, only to realize she is deliberately clawing at them in ways with make them stick and rub his flesh raw. For this, and the pain in his shoulder, he throws her onto the couch. He holds her down, not stopping until her legs are pinned by his weight straddling them. She doesn't like to talk about commitment? She'll have no choice now and no where to run.

"I believe we were after you threw the ring off the cliff," he laughs bitterly. Yes, it was a promise ring - a child concept, but he thought, at the time, it was what she would accept. "My choice was to once again save the world or witness your anger. Again," he states, moving his hand in the crevass of her closed legs. "Another of your 'choices' for me."
"So," he says, moving dangerouly towards pain and pleasure with a sneer. "Do you want names? Dates?"

[just_a_phase]

Oh, this is not fair.

"I should have thrown it at your head," she hisses, and squirms, not sure if she wants to move against him or away right then.

This isn't how she ever imagined it.

But to be honest? Tonight? With everything, everything, that they've had and still have to deal with?

It's probably what she'd have gone looking for from someone else anyway.

"I should phase you into this stupid couch!" And no, she doesn't want the names or dates, she's hated knowing they were there from the start, damn him.

"I can do that, you know." Boxers she tears, and she does so deliberately, grabbing him firmly and biting his lip at the same time. "I hate you sometimes. I hate what you did to me. I hate the one time I got away from you, you broke my boyfriend's back. WHO DOES THAT?" She adjusts her grip and bites again, hoping, angrily, to leave his lip swollen, if not bloody. "What, were you just keeping busy with others while waiting for my chest to fill out? Sorry, metabolism's kinda fast with the mutant thing, keeping weight on's hard."

Oh, that was mean. She knows it. But she felt it, sometimes, too. So why shouldn't he have to know that?

"You hurt me." Except there are tears. Except she's kissing him, if hard, without biting this time. Except she could get away easily, if she wanted, and she's not moving.

[konocc]

"And put me out of my misery now?!" He bellows.

He looks stricken at the comments. His stunned state lets her get away, lets her bite and tear at him because he deserves it. Finally, he grabs her wrists. The ice in his eyes melts to a soft steel blue color, wet with tears. "Every time," he whispers. "I had wished it was you. Even after you betrayed me. Even after I was damaged. It hurt to never have that hope." The fire is slowly dying behind them. His body, though flesh, looks almost metallic and it is hard not to think about the damage he suffered with the inability to change back.

"My sins are mine, but I could not stand to see that -" He bites back the word "pedophile" but only barely. "Him using you in every way he could." He pauses for a quick, steadying breath and keeps holding her wrists, but the grip is lighter, and he thumbs make small circles just under the soft flesh of them as if to ground them both.. "I hurt you, Kayta. Da - Yes - I did. But even now you break me, and I let you do so - without remorse for either of us."

[just_a_phase]

Her chest is heaving for all the wrong reasons, mostly as she tries to keep tears back and chokes on half of them. "Don't. Don't. It was my choice, and it was legal, and don't. Leave him be." I hurt him too, and you have no idea. But it's whispered, between gasps for breath, and it's pleading.

He's bleeding in places, she realizes, and groans. She can't even convince herself she hasn't wanted to make that happen.

"Why couldn't you have just said yes then?" she whispers, finally, and phases her hands out of his grip; one goes to pull his head to hers, so she can bury her face in his neck, and the other slips down, first to his hip, and then, lightly, her fingers slide to between his legs, wrapping around his length carefully. "Every time I wanted you, you pushed me away."

There are still tears, but now she's gentle, and careful, and her mouth presses kisses to each scratch, each bite mark, she left a few moments ago.

[konocc]

He swallows. "Because it was never about what is happening now." A long pause. "And I would have been beaten within an inch of my life and possibly removed from my home." He heaves a sigh, mostly to reign in the tears. "And home has been within 40 miles of you since the day we met, no matter what I have claimed." Even this teaching farm is only a little over 30 miles away.

"This Is not the price of our friendship, or the cabin or anything else. There is no this equals that." His determination staggers as she takes him. He gasps and reflexisely pulls her tightly to him so there is no length of them not pressing against one another. His breath is much harder to keep as she continues. Still, he fights, must fight - because he hopes she will be able to understand. Into her ear he calls to her. "Where you go, I go." He moves his right hand down from her back, grazing her waist. "When you are in danger, I will stand in front of it, knowing full well you are likely the more deadly." His hand moves lower now, to the front and between them. "If you ask what I want, it is to be with you. If you ask me for an outcome, it will involve you." The hand has found its target. Thick fingers probe the area, and he is slightly shocked by how ready she feel. He lifts her and adjusts the angle of his touch. The last words are murmured into her ear in a wave of heat. "This is what I mean by having no choice."

He stops both of their hands for just a moment, lacing them together. This is going too fast. He doesn't want this to end so quickly - not after all this waiting. He moves his cheek in order to stroke her hair. "It is like that movie you love with the pirate -" His voice switches to a not-quite passible British accent. "'As you wish.'"

[just_a_phase]

She groans. "God, if you're anything like your fingers--" And only that, as she strokes him, carefully, finding a speed.

She's still crying into the crook of his neck, if softly.

God, she would have sworn she couldn't have so many tears in her.

He strokes her hair; her left hand slowly strokes his. Her right hand is still wrapped around him, stroking, moving so slowly, carefully, and one of her ankles finds itself gently winding around one of his legs.

"I wouldn't have let them hurt you." It's whispered, and it's important, even if she understands, just as part of her understood then. "I won't let anyone hurt you, now, and I wouldn't have then. They couldn't have. I would have followed. How would they stop me? One arm on you, and no one touches you, ever."

Not because there's any point in arguing--not because he was wrong. Because she needs him to know.

"Peter," she breathes, and moves clever fingers along his skin. "Don't. If you want to be with me, let me be in front sometimes. Don't make me bury you again." She breathes and moves to mouth at his jaw. "Don't even let me hurt you."

And don't stop.

[konocc]

Yes, he needed to hear that. He needed to know he would be defended. It's a very silly thing, but - no one has ever truly thought to ask, much less offered.

Piotr warms, nearly melting under her touch. Tears still collect on her shoulder but the feeling in the room is different. For the first time he feels, to her, truly calm and content to let her act on her desires without argument. He kisses her mouth with his bruised lip and then moves his lips once again to the soft patch of skin just below her jawline. His moans are sharp, mellodic sounds which are so low and powerful as to be able to vibrate through them both.

But to the last bit, he has an objection - one he cannot let her get away from.

He nudges away her hair from her ear. "If I could not allow you to hurt me," he says in a voice so low and primal it is as if it came from ancient stone more than a yoing, vital man. "Then how could I also be open to being loved by you?" Before she can argue, he leans back just slightly, moving her on top of him and beginning to guide her hips.

[just_a_phase]

"Pretty sure I can argue that one. Later," she finishes, with a hitch in her voice, and then--

Oh.

God. She'd wanted and she'd waited and imagined (a lot) and it's still, even with experience, different. Deep and filling her, it feels like, all up, and--

And good. And right. And other words that she's sure she'd have, except they've apparently all leaked out of her ears, along with the rest of her mind. Because thinking isn't possible anymore.

"God." She breathes in once, deeply, and lets herself finish sliding around him, feels muscles adjust slowly, shuts her eyes at the feel and makes a noise in the back of her throat.

"Tell me." It's half a demand, half a favor begged, as her hands rake over his back. "Tell me it wasn't because I wasn't enough."

[konocc]

It has been a long time, but not long enough where he would lose control like some idiot teenager. But being like this, living the dream of so many lonely nights - hearing her pant in extasy and knowing he was the cause - feeling her back arch under his hands...

He gasps sharply as they come together and his eyes widen in amazement. Nothing he has experienced has been even close to this - and he knows some of his sexual escapades would seem like boasting.

But you always wanted her. Just her. This is the difference.

She is everywhere. Physically, her warmth surrounds him and his sense of taste and smell overflow with the taste of her sweat. His ears pound with the din with the rush of blood and a host of sounds he cannot tell which are coming from her and which he makes in response.

Her words float back to him. So, show me me you live. I dare you, metal-man.

Gladly.

His breath and speed quicken as he pulls his mouth to hers before moving to her breast, teasing them with his mouth. One hand pulls her closer - sending him deeper within her while the other moves between them to stimulate her further.

Then that question. God, that question. How could she ask that now?! Now? When she is his whole world? The only thing he can even sense?!

"Nyet!" he says wildly, nearly to the breaking point. If...anything..."

He can't finish the thought before his world explodes in light and color. He almost screams from the sensation, instead burrying the sounds into her shoulder.

[just_a_phase]

It's an answer. An incoherent answer, maybe--but one she understands.

And that's good. "Peter," she begs, "not--not exactly with you, there," and gives in to the need to whimper when she feels him shift under and in her. "Oh God, how--" Incoherency must be the theme of the moment.

And maybe part of it is that she just doesn't want it to end, except if it doesn't end she's going to scream, or fly apart, maybe, and if she phases so far this time nothing's left will she be able to get back again and--

Oh.

There.

And she chokes out a sound, and she phases them both, the reaction entirely beyond her control, drags them down through the couch, and it's okay, it's okay, because she's still holding him so tightly she thinks they'll both snap.

And words...are important things. Things she's often very fond of.

But right now, she's sobbing into his shoulder, because she's waited seven years, almost eight, for this, and yes. Okay. She is not telling him, at least not tonight, but this was so very worth the wait.

And for now, she sobs into his shoulder, lets out all the tears she refused to shed over him before, and lets them be intangible together and doesn't bother trying to calm down at all.

[konocc]

Something happened...beyind the spectaularly obvious. Blue eyes snap open and he looks around. Huh?

They are apparently on a different couch then where they started, this one being in his living room downstairs. Her form shimmers above him like angel of mist. He knows she's phased. He's seen it enough times only...this time, he's with her. The only thing he can touch right now is her. Oddly, for him, it's the most intimate thing that has happened this evening.

"You have brought me to life and made me a ghost," he jokes in awe, moving one phased hand through her hair. He's in no hurry to get out of this state. If he somehow earns heaven, he can't imagine anything more...intoxicating...than an eternity of this. His sense of touch - if anything - is greatly heightened and he uses it to explore her body while still entwined with his.

She slowly brings them back to tangibility. "You asked, and I could not finish," he responds after a time, pressing her to him. "No. Never. You have always been 'enough.' Most often? You are too much."

Dimly, he realizes he's not used to talking during sex. At all. He a little stunned to find kind of likes it.

He holds her, moving his hands in long, smooth stroking motions. He lets her cry. Allowing her to let go.

"I love you," he says finally. Then adds. "Please do not kill me."

[just_a_phase]

When she finally is calm, her first response is to open one eye and mumble, "S'been a while. Being solid is...hard. At the best of times. It never...really got that much better. After I lost control. S'hard to not phase when I'm, um, distracted." Softer, "Normally it's just me, though," and one arm, limp before, wraps a bit more around him.

Her eyes close again and she enjoys his touch, his warmth, the way he feels in her and on her, and her breath catches at his words.

After a moment, her hand reaches for one of his, slowly twining their fingers together. "...Be really stupid thing to do, killing you," she says finally, softly. Lovingly.

And then she winces, slightly. "And we already did stupid. Christ. Oh God. We did really stupid," she realizes, and her other hand covers her face.

Stupid stupid stupid you BOUGHT condoms, idiot, stupid--

[konocc]

Reality slowly filters in for the giant and then falls much more quickly when she doesn't respond in kind. As soon as the word 'stupid' leaves her lips, all traces of happiness this granted him begin to ebb away.

"Yes, we did." His voice has an edge of grimness to it. No protection was used. Even if there had been...

Yes, he's damn stupid. He's even stupider for somehow managing to not regret anything yet.

He moves that hand away from her face. "Do you wish to head to the hospital?" He does not want to deal with the X-Mansion in any way shape or form right now. The buzz is quickly fading, too. Another part of his "gift." He recovered quickly.

His own thoughts are...decidedly mixed

Why didn't occur to you to pleasure her in some other way, Piotr? Are you really so desperate to keep her tied to you in some way?

Yes, is the plaintive answer coming from his heart. I am stupid for her. Would a child be so hard to manage? I have property; a job...All the things a man should have for his family. Even if she were to leave...

As he thinks, she can see the wall coming back up between her and his thoughts as it is stacked behind his eyes. Still, he is in no hurry to move - or stop touching her.

[just_a_phase]

She's silent for a moment before she slowly pushes herself up, reaches out with one hand to stroke his cheek. "What I want...is a mug of a coffee and a blanket." She swallows. "And then we can talk. And figure out...things."

She's unable to look away from her lap, now, as she adds softly, "And you're going to hate this, but I have to say it. For me. So I don't--don't ever feel dirty or cheap in the future. I know you'll never like him. And I'll--I'm not going to bring him up to spite you. But Pete loved me, Piotr. Please. I...I know. What you think of him. What a lot of people thought of him. He did too." She looks up at him then, eyes raw. "But he was there. And he loved me. And I hurt him, in the end. So I...won't bring him up, if avoidable, but--but please. Don't. Not with him."

Pete was her first, she doesn't say, and he made her feel special in a way she hadn't in a long, long time.

And age difference or not, legal in the US or not--they weren't in the US. They were in Scotland. and it was legal there.

"But--but now, I think we need coffee and a blanket and...talking. About what we do. Because I'm--I'm not on the pill, Piotr."

Her last relationship was a while ago, and that one was with a woman. And there had been a large time gap before THAT one, too.

[konocc]

There went the rest of his even neutral mood, vacuumed out of the house as if it were dust. Had he the energy, he would curse himself. He's also annoyed at her, but doesn't feel like forcing the issue. So he dutifully gets up after somewhat uncerimoniously handing her a few oversized handmade afghans from the couch and begins to fix tea in his kitchen, which she could see half of from the couch even though it was on the other side of the house

She would be getting the distinct impression he preferred being over there to over by her right now. The stove is out of sight from her though, so she only catches glimpses of him as he sniffs a batch of mint tea, measures it out into a tea ball and then takes out two mugs. The only sign she hears of the kettle being prepared is the sound of running water and a reverbating *clank* as the metal pot hit the stove harder - much harder - then it strictly had to.

Not once does he look back. And his face looks more like it did when she first called out to him so many hours ago - weather beaten, care worn, old before its time.

But what is going on in Piotr's mind is a melange of thoughts which tend to move back to one. I would make make an honest woman out of you. That is what he said and he meant it. She was not amendable and now...He just rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. His mind keeps stalking the thought. Was that on my mind when..?

[just_a_phase]

Shes sighs after a moment and stands, blankets wrapped tightly around her against the cool air the dying fire's left behind. This is not what I wanted. This is now what I meant. This is...totally par for the course for us, yeah.

It would be easy to be gone before he got back, and old instincts tell her that this is...is wise, even.

She shoves them down. And then she goes to the kitchen, slowly, surprised at first to realize she's sore before it clicks a) it HAS been a while and b) they were fighting before they were...not so much fighting.

"Peter." It's soft, and it's gentle, while she watches him from the doorway. "If--if you want, I'll just go get the morning after pill." She's not even processed enough to get to think about what she wants, but if one of the does--that's what happens, she tells herself, even if she's not the one. "But I..." She trails off and sighs, perching on a counter after a moment, blanket swathed around her like a too-large robe.

"...Loving you now doesn't mean I didn't love him then," she says finally, studying her hands. Mostly matter-of-factly, because he has to know that she does, after everything. It doesn't even occur to her she hasn't said it before. Or, rather, not in this recent situation. "And doesn't mean it doesn't hurt...every time I hear a comment about him. And they were made a lot then, and sometimes still are now. I'm Shadowcat. I can't...turn how I move off. People don't notice me half the time, so they say things they might not if they knew I was there." She bites a hangnail for a moment. "Still having feelings for him other than just anger and pain...that doesn't mean I don't love you. But mostly, I don't...like how it makes me feel. Even when it's only about him. And that...I needed to say before it ever had the chance to risk becoming an issue. You can keep hating him. But I hurt him...probably as much as you've hurt me, sometimes. In one of the same ways, actually. And that's my ghost to carry."

She looks up at him and looks away. "Tactful, no, important, kinda yeah. But I have a feeling that's not the reason, or the only one, you're looking grim as, well. A very grim thing. There, like The Thing, who is named Grimm. And I also have a feeling that you don't exactly want me to go get the morning after pill," she finishes softly. "So this time...let's talk, instead of me having to guess at your feelings? Because this...well, part of this, the we-were-fighting-and-ending-up-having-sex-without-pausing-between-for-precaution part, anyway, that's...not a thing to not talk about. That's not something I want to guess about." She swallows. "Panic about, a little, guess, no. But I don't want to guess about anything anymore. I just want us to--to be us. And to talk. And to not...try to just be friends, because just-friends are never the way you and I are, even when we're not together."

After a beat. "...I, um, also actually didn't throw the ring over the cliff," she mumbles. "I threw a ring. It wasn't...the one you gave me. I tended to keep it on my necklace, so it didn't get messed up. I wore a different one. Which I...might actually have thrown at your head, but I wouldn't have thrown it hard."

[konocc]

(Continued back on the main thread.)

His head is swimming. Was she just that dense or unfeeling that she could not see that the last person he wanted to talk about - especially right now after...Was Pete fucking Wisdom? Everything else moves into the background and she can watch light die in his eyes as his thoughts move inward. He wishes he could let go and forgive the guy because its obvious now that she's tested things she wants that bastard more, and what he wants -

No, what he can live with...is her being happy.

As she babbles, he busied himself with dishes in the sink. He lives alone and never saw the point of paying for a dishwasher. He needs something to do with his hands because the only other thing in this room to touch right now doesn't want him to, or at least wants to hurt him more than love him. Soapy water glides through his fingers like strands of her hair as he begins to scrub something of his recent past clean while only seeing her out of the corner of his eye - like a ghost.

[just_a_phase]

She rubs at her eyes for a moment, muttering in Japanese, before she goes over and physically makes him look at her.

"Stop." It's an order. "Whatever's in your head. Stop. Stop comparing, or drawing back, or whatever you're doing. Stop running away from me inside your head, stop thinking you're so sure I don't want you. I brought it up because even when you make the remark you did, it makes me feel dirty. And I don't want to feel it again. I don't want to ever feel that again, but especially not when I'm with you. Even if I'm just having lunch with you."

Her hands refuse to let him turn his head from her.

"It's not nice. It's not fun. But I needed it said. So I never have to again. So you know that maybe it's part of the past that still hurts--but it's the past."

Her hands drop then and she wraps them--and the blankets--around herself, looking away. "This is now. Now has--has things we have to talk about. Too. I've never--do you understand? I've never not used protection, Piotr. I have condoms, I bought condoms when I was out! But I just..."

She trails off. It was you. And I forgot. The thing I never forget, I forgot, because it was you.

She mumbles, still not looking at him, "It's in my head, and it doesn't mean anything until it's out and I share it with you. And I can't...keep in things, sometimes. I can barely be solid. If there's something important, it comes out. And it is important. Because I know. I know what people, including you, think of him. Feel about him. And it hurts, sometimes. But I need you to know too that...that there's no reason for you to even think about him....at all. Because he's the past."