Post by Pyro on Oct 9, 2006 14:22:04 GMT -5
His instinctive reaction was to try to reach out to any remaining flames still burning in the compound, but there wasn't even a residual spark. He was totally, utterly defenceless. And he didn't like that feeling one bit.
When she got him in the choke-hold, his body stiffened and went rigid. Then she kissed him behind his ear and that was somehow more ominous and menacing than the choke-hold itself. Was the kiss a prelude to revenge? Or was it a prelude to something else?
He hoped fervently that it was a prelude to something else, because the whole situation had left him with an inordinate amount of energy that he wanted to burn off.
Her grip lessened slightly on him and his hand, which he'd slid into the pocket of his jeans came out with a simple 50 cent lighter, which he held up, but didn't light. "And never presume you've disarmed me," he said, his words broken and hoarse due to her arm around his neck. "Touché."
Mystique laughed, letting him go. Stepping around to face him, she handed him his piece back. “You’re good.” And she meant it, it was obvious by her expression that she was impressed.
Kissing him quickly, she added, “I hope you don’t mind my playing dirty. Your enemies won’t follow rules.”
It seemed the more powerful he got, the more smitten she became. If she had any doubts about how she felt for him, they were gone in this moment.
"Be as dirty as you like," was his instant response. He kissed her, too, only his wasn't so quick. He felt empowered and he felt hungry to enjoy that moment. It was like the time he had first got Magneto to agree to let him act as his attache: that moment of feeling greater than the sum of his parts.
He grabbed Mystique by the shoulders and pushed her back up against the wall of the compound, his lips still firmly on hers. Just like the fire and flame that had licked at her a few minutes ago, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, that strange, unnatural heat that went with his mutation. She could smell the very distinctive scent of woodsmoke that seemed to linger around him, could smell the soap that he used mingled in with the scent of blood from a few grazes and the scent of sweat from his exertions.
Finally, he broke off the kiss.
"I really enjoyed that," he said, and whether he meant the kiss or the training session was unclear.
Mystique moaned as her shoulders hit the wall, her hands clinging to his shirt as they kissed. If this was the way things were going to work, they’d be training every day. She made a mental note to forgive Emma for what she’s perceived as an over-taming.
“Mmm…” she licked her lips. “Me too.” She couldn’t wait to get him out in the field again, he with his new confidence and talents. It would surely be a massive change from the events at Baltimore.
Kissing him again, she jumped a little and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her back to the wall all the harder. Her fingers ran through the sweat along his neck, threading into his hair. “I think I could really enjoy more of this,” She shot the double entendre back at him with one of her wickedly smooth smiles.
He buried his face in her hair for a moment, inhaling the scent of her. He wanted her desperately, but was acutely aware that out here in the training compound, in broad daylight may not have been the most appropriate location.
"You drive me crazy," he murmured in her ear. "God DAMN you, but it's sexy." He reached up and nipped her neck just below the ear lightly. In their former relationship as lovers, he'd rarely, if ever, been the aggressor or the instigator, seeming amenable to letting her be the dominant side of the relationship. That, it appeared seemed to have altered as well.
And she was taking full notice of it. Something about Mystique’s mind had always been a bit bestial; if you behaved like prey, she would treat you like prey. If you behaved otherwise, she would shift accordingly.
There hadn’t been a man strong enough to turn the tides on her since Azazel, and he had lived the credo ‘a god among insects’. Pyro had done so and she found herself shaking with the thrill of it.
Pyro was no Azazel… but he was still young.
Slipping a hand between them to confirm his excitement, he might have seen his fire reflected against the metallic yellow of her eyes. She wasn’t quite so timid as he, but was still conscious of the potential audience- without a doubt, Gill had already taken interest from the security room.
“You and I need to get away for a while. Somewhere alone. Not on the island.” Mystique brought their mouths together again, needing him more by the moment.
When her hand came down between them, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to just put on a display for the security cameras. His eyes closed and he responded to her touch with a soft little noise of pleasure that she remembered very well indeed.
"Yes," he murmured when she made her suggestion. "Getting away...we'll talk about that idea later. I like that." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. "Right now, though, I need to get out of these sweaty clothes. And slip into something more comfortable."
His lips pressed up against her ear.
"Like you."
* * *
She remembered him as being an overly-energetic young man, whose never-ending thoughts and anxieties kept him awake at all hours. But after what had been probably their most intensive love-making she could recall, he had lain in the circle of her arms, his head resting on her chest and he had dozed lightly.
Occasionally he would wake up, kiss her, and doze again as was probably more natural for a young man whose energy had been released so very...emphatically.
Right now, he was awake.
"I'm different," he said, rather redundantly.
She lazily ran her fingertips over his hair, drifting in and out herself.
“I know,” she murmured. Oh god had he been. That was one of the… better side effects of whatever had happened to him during the weeks she’d been gone.
But she wasn’t sure that was all he meant. “Are you happy with the difference, John…”
"I think I am," he said, shifting position so she could stroke his hair more easily. He loved having his hair stroked; it was a comforting sensation that made him relax. "I'm finding it easier to make...harder decisions. Like talking to Python when I had to about going to New York. I feel...stronger. Harder. Faster. I have the technology."
He grinned wickedly for a moment.
"Seriously, though, the thoughts in my head clear up so much more easily now. I can focus better. That training session was...something else."
She laughed softly at his joke, entwining her legs with his.
“I’m glad. Everyone needs you to be strong.” She kissed his forehead. “I need you to be strong.”
"I realised I can do this," he said, and he closed his eyes when she kissed his forehead. "I know everything's still not great up here..." He tapped his head lightly. "Emma told me that there was still a lot of work to be done, but I can do it. This Brotherhood will be everything you want it to be - and more. The new intake will help us literally blow the world away. Nobody will be able to ignore our power when we strike. Not any more."
How earnest he sounded. How very like a young Erik Lensherr.
“Did Magneto every tell you how he and I met?”
She wondered how alike the two might be after all. It might do Pyro some good to know that he wasn’t the only young man who had risen to the tremendous expectations of the blue skinned metamorph.
He shook his head, his fine, soft hair brushing her belly. "He only ever told me of his admiration for you. I didn't pry, it's not my style." He shifted up the bed so that he was lying with his head on the pillows and turned slightly to look at her.
"I would like to know, though."
Her smile lingered, remembering her friend. Her eyes shifted to him, and a lazy hand rose to curl a rogue lock of his hair around one finger.
“He was twelve.” She murmured. “And already so hard. You know he survived a concentration camp, of course.” She nodded. “That’s when I met him. That war was when I first used the name Leni Zauber.”
"I can't even start to imagine what he went through," said John, softly. He had, of course, known that about Magneto and it had only increased the admiration and hero-worship he already had for his idol. The thought of it made John angry, of course. "How did you meet him?"
He pushed aside the reminder of how much older than him she was.
“I was working for the Allies. They were preparing experiments on mutant children and I went under cover within the camp. I couldn’t save all of them. Just Erik. I don’t know… something about him caught me.”
“He’s so different now…” she said, almost sadly. “But so are we all, I suppose.”
There was quite a length silence. "Bastards," said John, eventually, cold fury evident in his voice. "Just...bastards."
The silence returned.
"Mystique," he said, carefully. "You constantly refer to Magneto as though he's still alive. I was...sure he died at Alcatraz. You would tell me, wouldn't you?" He'd harboured such a hope when he had first picked up how she spoke of him.
Mystique nestled her head into the bend of his neck near his shoulder.
“Like I said before. I have seen amazing things when it comes to mutants, and you can never trust that any mutant like Magneto is gone forever. Did you –see- him die, Pyro?”
Her fingers traced down his chest. “One thing you can settle your mind on. If he is still alive, he is not missing because he wants to be. Only because he must.”
A wry smile twisted his mouth up in a self-depracating smile. "I didn't see anything after Bobby took me out the picture. And nobody else seemed to know what had happened. Cain was the only one left and he was running away as damn fast from Jean as he could. Python was also not that far forward."
He took a deep breath. "Is it childish or indeed foolish of me to at least hope that if he IS still alive...that he is well and maybe I might get to see him again sometime?" A silence. "I miss him."
Mystique laughed. It was a little condescending, but she couldn’t help it. His statement was outright adorable.
“Of course not. I miss him terribly every single day Pyro. He has been my love for many, many years.” She lifted her head back to the pillow, looking at him. “Not like you might think, but… some bonds are timeless.” Her smile as suddenly a little sad.
“Did he ever say anything about me after…” she didn’t finish.
Pyro thought for a while.
"No," he said, almost apologetic about it. "I tried to discuss it with him, several times. I think he regretted the decision he made, but knew that there was nothing he could do to undo it, you know?"
He lay quiet for a while, letting her gently soothing fingers keep him calm and relaxed. When he spoke again, he was tentative. "I wanted to come back for you. Did you know that?"
She was touched. She had tried very hard in the months since they had left her to forget the look on Erik’s face, or his words as he had turned away. There had only been one moment in her life that had hurt worse, and both times she’d rather have died.
Sighing, she whispered. “No… I didn’t know that. Thank you.”
Mystique frowned gently. “But why?”
"I knew how much you meant to each other," he said, simply. "I couldn't believe that he would really discard you like that. But...he had to focus on the matter in hand. I think he would eventually have come back for you, y'know what I mean?"
He sighed.
"I spent so long looking for you and then you just walked back in through the door. I was so glad when you did that."
Listening to him speak was like riding a roller coaster. Hate. Angry. Self Defense. Sadness. Back to anger. She took a slow breath, and nodded. The subject needed to be changed.
And then he did, and she silently thanked him for hearing her thought. “I had no idea what I’d find… Gill had told me you were taking over of course.”
She looked at him and smiled a bit. “You have grown so much just in the last few months.”
"It's not been an easy few months," he agreed. "But I needed to grow up and grow out." He shifted towards her and kissed her ear gently. "I'm glad you are here to see the result." His arm came around across her and he held her to him very gently.
Inside his mind, the mind that Emma Frost had so carefully tidied and groomed to her particular flavour, he was unaware that the warmth and affection he felt towards Mystique was not all entirely his - although largely it most definitely was. Perhaps there was more than a little of Emma herself in the flow of his thoughts, the unconscious movements he made.
As he fell back into a light doze, he thought, momentarily, of Angie and then of Kitty - and for some reason he was unable to discern, he felt distinctly uncomfortable.
When she got him in the choke-hold, his body stiffened and went rigid. Then she kissed him behind his ear and that was somehow more ominous and menacing than the choke-hold itself. Was the kiss a prelude to revenge? Or was it a prelude to something else?
He hoped fervently that it was a prelude to something else, because the whole situation had left him with an inordinate amount of energy that he wanted to burn off.
Her grip lessened slightly on him and his hand, which he'd slid into the pocket of his jeans came out with a simple 50 cent lighter, which he held up, but didn't light. "And never presume you've disarmed me," he said, his words broken and hoarse due to her arm around his neck. "Touché."
Mystique laughed, letting him go. Stepping around to face him, she handed him his piece back. “You’re good.” And she meant it, it was obvious by her expression that she was impressed.
Kissing him quickly, she added, “I hope you don’t mind my playing dirty. Your enemies won’t follow rules.”
It seemed the more powerful he got, the more smitten she became. If she had any doubts about how she felt for him, they were gone in this moment.
"Be as dirty as you like," was his instant response. He kissed her, too, only his wasn't so quick. He felt empowered and he felt hungry to enjoy that moment. It was like the time he had first got Magneto to agree to let him act as his attache: that moment of feeling greater than the sum of his parts.
He grabbed Mystique by the shoulders and pushed her back up against the wall of the compound, his lips still firmly on hers. Just like the fire and flame that had licked at her a few minutes ago, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, that strange, unnatural heat that went with his mutation. She could smell the very distinctive scent of woodsmoke that seemed to linger around him, could smell the soap that he used mingled in with the scent of blood from a few grazes and the scent of sweat from his exertions.
Finally, he broke off the kiss.
"I really enjoyed that," he said, and whether he meant the kiss or the training session was unclear.
Mystique moaned as her shoulders hit the wall, her hands clinging to his shirt as they kissed. If this was the way things were going to work, they’d be training every day. She made a mental note to forgive Emma for what she’s perceived as an over-taming.
“Mmm…” she licked her lips. “Me too.” She couldn’t wait to get him out in the field again, he with his new confidence and talents. It would surely be a massive change from the events at Baltimore.
Kissing him again, she jumped a little and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her back to the wall all the harder. Her fingers ran through the sweat along his neck, threading into his hair. “I think I could really enjoy more of this,” She shot the double entendre back at him with one of her wickedly smooth smiles.
He buried his face in her hair for a moment, inhaling the scent of her. He wanted her desperately, but was acutely aware that out here in the training compound, in broad daylight may not have been the most appropriate location.
"You drive me crazy," he murmured in her ear. "God DAMN you, but it's sexy." He reached up and nipped her neck just below the ear lightly. In their former relationship as lovers, he'd rarely, if ever, been the aggressor or the instigator, seeming amenable to letting her be the dominant side of the relationship. That, it appeared seemed to have altered as well.
And she was taking full notice of it. Something about Mystique’s mind had always been a bit bestial; if you behaved like prey, she would treat you like prey. If you behaved otherwise, she would shift accordingly.
There hadn’t been a man strong enough to turn the tides on her since Azazel, and he had lived the credo ‘a god among insects’. Pyro had done so and she found herself shaking with the thrill of it.
Pyro was no Azazel… but he was still young.
Slipping a hand between them to confirm his excitement, he might have seen his fire reflected against the metallic yellow of her eyes. She wasn’t quite so timid as he, but was still conscious of the potential audience- without a doubt, Gill had already taken interest from the security room.
“You and I need to get away for a while. Somewhere alone. Not on the island.” Mystique brought their mouths together again, needing him more by the moment.
When her hand came down between them, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to just put on a display for the security cameras. His eyes closed and he responded to her touch with a soft little noise of pleasure that she remembered very well indeed.
"Yes," he murmured when she made her suggestion. "Getting away...we'll talk about that idea later. I like that." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. "Right now, though, I need to get out of these sweaty clothes. And slip into something more comfortable."
His lips pressed up against her ear.
"Like you."
* * *
She remembered him as being an overly-energetic young man, whose never-ending thoughts and anxieties kept him awake at all hours. But after what had been probably their most intensive love-making she could recall, he had lain in the circle of her arms, his head resting on her chest and he had dozed lightly.
Occasionally he would wake up, kiss her, and doze again as was probably more natural for a young man whose energy had been released so very...emphatically.
Right now, he was awake.
"I'm different," he said, rather redundantly.
She lazily ran her fingertips over his hair, drifting in and out herself.
“I know,” she murmured. Oh god had he been. That was one of the… better side effects of whatever had happened to him during the weeks she’d been gone.
But she wasn’t sure that was all he meant. “Are you happy with the difference, John…”
"I think I am," he said, shifting position so she could stroke his hair more easily. He loved having his hair stroked; it was a comforting sensation that made him relax. "I'm finding it easier to make...harder decisions. Like talking to Python when I had to about going to New York. I feel...stronger. Harder. Faster. I have the technology."
He grinned wickedly for a moment.
"Seriously, though, the thoughts in my head clear up so much more easily now. I can focus better. That training session was...something else."
She laughed softly at his joke, entwining her legs with his.
“I’m glad. Everyone needs you to be strong.” She kissed his forehead. “I need you to be strong.”
"I realised I can do this," he said, and he closed his eyes when she kissed his forehead. "I know everything's still not great up here..." He tapped his head lightly. "Emma told me that there was still a lot of work to be done, but I can do it. This Brotherhood will be everything you want it to be - and more. The new intake will help us literally blow the world away. Nobody will be able to ignore our power when we strike. Not any more."
How earnest he sounded. How very like a young Erik Lensherr.
“Did Magneto every tell you how he and I met?”
She wondered how alike the two might be after all. It might do Pyro some good to know that he wasn’t the only young man who had risen to the tremendous expectations of the blue skinned metamorph.
He shook his head, his fine, soft hair brushing her belly. "He only ever told me of his admiration for you. I didn't pry, it's not my style." He shifted up the bed so that he was lying with his head on the pillows and turned slightly to look at her.
"I would like to know, though."
Her smile lingered, remembering her friend. Her eyes shifted to him, and a lazy hand rose to curl a rogue lock of his hair around one finger.
“He was twelve.” She murmured. “And already so hard. You know he survived a concentration camp, of course.” She nodded. “That’s when I met him. That war was when I first used the name Leni Zauber.”
"I can't even start to imagine what he went through," said John, softly. He had, of course, known that about Magneto and it had only increased the admiration and hero-worship he already had for his idol. The thought of it made John angry, of course. "How did you meet him?"
He pushed aside the reminder of how much older than him she was.
“I was working for the Allies. They were preparing experiments on mutant children and I went under cover within the camp. I couldn’t save all of them. Just Erik. I don’t know… something about him caught me.”
“He’s so different now…” she said, almost sadly. “But so are we all, I suppose.”
There was quite a length silence. "Bastards," said John, eventually, cold fury evident in his voice. "Just...bastards."
The silence returned.
"Mystique," he said, carefully. "You constantly refer to Magneto as though he's still alive. I was...sure he died at Alcatraz. You would tell me, wouldn't you?" He'd harboured such a hope when he had first picked up how she spoke of him.
Mystique nestled her head into the bend of his neck near his shoulder.
“Like I said before. I have seen amazing things when it comes to mutants, and you can never trust that any mutant like Magneto is gone forever. Did you –see- him die, Pyro?”
Her fingers traced down his chest. “One thing you can settle your mind on. If he is still alive, he is not missing because he wants to be. Only because he must.”
A wry smile twisted his mouth up in a self-depracating smile. "I didn't see anything after Bobby took me out the picture. And nobody else seemed to know what had happened. Cain was the only one left and he was running away as damn fast from Jean as he could. Python was also not that far forward."
He took a deep breath. "Is it childish or indeed foolish of me to at least hope that if he IS still alive...that he is well and maybe I might get to see him again sometime?" A silence. "I miss him."
Mystique laughed. It was a little condescending, but she couldn’t help it. His statement was outright adorable.
“Of course not. I miss him terribly every single day Pyro. He has been my love for many, many years.” She lifted her head back to the pillow, looking at him. “Not like you might think, but… some bonds are timeless.” Her smile as suddenly a little sad.
“Did he ever say anything about me after…” she didn’t finish.
Pyro thought for a while.
"No," he said, almost apologetic about it. "I tried to discuss it with him, several times. I think he regretted the decision he made, but knew that there was nothing he could do to undo it, you know?"
He lay quiet for a while, letting her gently soothing fingers keep him calm and relaxed. When he spoke again, he was tentative. "I wanted to come back for you. Did you know that?"
She was touched. She had tried very hard in the months since they had left her to forget the look on Erik’s face, or his words as he had turned away. There had only been one moment in her life that had hurt worse, and both times she’d rather have died.
Sighing, she whispered. “No… I didn’t know that. Thank you.”
Mystique frowned gently. “But why?”
"I knew how much you meant to each other," he said, simply. "I couldn't believe that he would really discard you like that. But...he had to focus on the matter in hand. I think he would eventually have come back for you, y'know what I mean?"
He sighed.
"I spent so long looking for you and then you just walked back in through the door. I was so glad when you did that."
Listening to him speak was like riding a roller coaster. Hate. Angry. Self Defense. Sadness. Back to anger. She took a slow breath, and nodded. The subject needed to be changed.
And then he did, and she silently thanked him for hearing her thought. “I had no idea what I’d find… Gill had told me you were taking over of course.”
She looked at him and smiled a bit. “You have grown so much just in the last few months.”
"It's not been an easy few months," he agreed. "But I needed to grow up and grow out." He shifted towards her and kissed her ear gently. "I'm glad you are here to see the result." His arm came around across her and he held her to him very gently.
Inside his mind, the mind that Emma Frost had so carefully tidied and groomed to her particular flavour, he was unaware that the warmth and affection he felt towards Mystique was not all entirely his - although largely it most definitely was. Perhaps there was more than a little of Emma herself in the flow of his thoughts, the unconscious movements he made.
As he fell back into a light doze, he thought, momentarily, of Angie and then of Kitty - and for some reason he was unable to discern, he felt distinctly uncomfortable.
