WARNING:
THERE IS EXPLICIT SEX AND BONDAGE GAMES IN THIS STORY. I marked this clearly in the header. The sex is graphic, but all loving and consensual (and not that much worse than a typical romance novel). If reading sex scenes like that would offend you, please don't read this.

If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>

Part 3

Wisdom had finally finished drawing his elaborate strawberries-and- cream design, and stepped back to admire his handiwork for a long moment, while Kitty twitched slightly in expectant suspence. She could guess what would come next, and was trembling with eagerness for him to begin eating his dessert.

Just as he approached her again after a long, silent, internal debate to select the best starting point, licking his lips hungrily and bending over her to begin, they heard the door rattle against its bolt and they froze upon hearing Nightcrawler's voice. "Was? Why is this door locked? Is someone in there?"

"Go away!" Pete yelled, straightening up with a wry grimace at the untimely interruption, watching in rapt fascination as a crimson flood raced down Kitty's face and neck to glow brightly against the pale cool froth covering her breasts, as she flushed as red as the strawberries embedded within the cream at the idea Kurt might decide to ignore their unspoken conventions and just teleport inside.

"Pete? Is that you?" It was Amanda's high, clear contralto now. "Is Kitty there, too? Sorry, we don't mean to interrupt your latenight snack or anything, we just want to get some pickles and ice cream, and we'll be out of your hair in just a few shakes..."

"So go pick some up on the friggin' mainland, you both can 'port that bleedin' far," Wisdom riposted sourly. He was a little too distracted by the enticing sight in front of him to come up with a more subtle way to eliminate the awkward interruption. "Trot yerselves over t' the friggin' local greengrocer's or somethin', an' leave us the hell alone."

The irritation in his voice was obvious to his unseen audience, even if all the words weren't as Kitty unintentionally covered part of his rude reply, yelping loudly, "Pickles and ice cream? Amanda!"

"Was?" Pete grinned at his supine girlfriend, who managed a weak smile in return despite her growing panic about being found in her current condition. After all, it was funny -- Wagner sounded totally clueless.

"No! No, of course not! Nothing like *that*..." Amanda, on the other hand, had picked up on her accidental implication immediately. "The pickles are for Kurt," she explained, laughing. "He claims they'll help settle his upset stomach so he can fall asleep. And the ice cream is for me -- I just felt like some sinful self-indulgence. So, can we please come in now, pretty please?"

"No! No way!" It was Kitty's turn to yell that now, in a strangled voice, as she squirmed around on the table alternating between laughter, embarassment, arousal and frustration in a chaotic cycle, while Pete put his hands on her hips, lightly, and murmured soothing reassurances to stop her gyrations before his dessert decorations got disturbed.

"Are you all right, Katzchen?" Wagner had heard *something* in her voice even through the thick door, he just wasn't sure what.

Her frustration won out, temporarily -- some stubborn little corner of her old friend's mind just insisted on worrying about her, especially about her being with Pete, no matter how many times she tried to break him of that annoying bad habit. Kitty lay still, taking several deep breaths -- she would *not* be ashamed of playing with Pete.

"I'm fine, fuzzy." She was pleased that her voice came out sounding quite normal. "And don't you dare come in here to check -- I don't barge in on you and Amanda, I respect your privacy, and I expect the same basic courtesy from you." Nevertheless, she began to gather her concentration, no easy feat given her current circumstances, to be ready to phase out of her loose bonds and down through the table if she caught the faintest hint of Nightcrawler's characteristic brimstone stench in the kitchen air. It would spoil Pete's game, but that way Kurt would see only a food-fight mess on the table. And, while how the kitchen got into its current state would be hard to explain, it was most definitely preferable to his seeing the actual results of Pete's cake-making.

Wisdom had no intention of letting his game be ruined, by Wagner or by anyone else. Trying to think of some way to convince the other pair to go away, he suddenly grinned widely. He glanced down at his culinary masterpiece with a look of unholy glee, then walked up to the door. "I'll make you a deal, Sefton. You go bring me a camera -- with film in 't, no tricks now -- an' I'll give you yer snacks in trade. Otherwise, yer out o' luck unless you plannin' on freakin' invadin' yer own kitchen, 'cos we got squatter's rights 'ere, we do."

Kitty's immediate howl of protest was quite audible even through the thick wooden door. "Katzchen, are you *sure you're all right? Perhaps I should 'port in and..." Wagner's voice cut off abruptly with an "ouch!"

Kurt, you come in here and I'll *murder* you," Kitty shouted loudly. "And if you come back from the dead, Pete will murder you again, and I'll help him."

"Relax, Kitty," Amanda called out, grinning widely as she kept tight hold of one pointed blue ear. "Kurt would never be that tactless, right, Fuzzy?" She gave the captive ear a strong pinch. "So, now I'm curious -- why do you need a camera, Pete?"

"Why d' you think, Sefton? I want t' take me a picture, see -- an' don't ask o' what, it's none o' yer bleedin' business. So, we got us a deal?" Wisdom glanced over at Kitty. He ignored her wild headshakes, but he couldn't help raising his eyebrows in some admiration at her sputtered imprecations and the creative uses of phrases he'd taught her.

"Sure." Amanda had her own camera, a relatively simple one she used on sightseeing trips, and she knew Moira had an entire photography shop as an integral part of her laboratory, so she wouldn't have to bother anyone else to find whatever Pete wanted. "Any particular requirements, Pete? A simple instamatic ok, or a more professional setup? Flash attachment, timer, telephoto lens, tripod?"

"Just a bleedin' camera with some soddin' film in it, is all. Bloody hell, you lot make everythin' so friggin' complicated..." The rest of his grumbles were lost to his enthralled audience as Pete moved away from the door, to walk back to Kitty still fidgeting fretfully atop the table and bend over to kiss her reassuringly, murmuring "Relax, love, we won't do anythin' you don't really want, I promise..." while stroking her tumbled chestnut hair gently.

"Ok, you find our snacks and I'll be right back with my camera," Amanda called out cheerily. "And Kurt will sit right here in the hall, and wait, and behave himself."

"Yeah, right," Wisdom muttered, straightening up and moving away again. Kitty craned her head up to see him wandering around opening random cabinet doors again. "Where d' you suppose that Scots harridan keeps pickles, then?"

"Two doors over, middle shelf," Kitty called out to him. "Right where they were a couple of days ago when you were starving as usual."

"Hoity-toity, Little Miss I-Know-It-All," Pete smiled back at her fondly, the secret soft look he reserved especially for her that always tugged at her heart-strings, relieved that she sounded calmer now.

He'd just pulled out a jar, and was holding it up to see how full it was when Amanda's voice came back. "Ok, Pete, I got the camera right here -- so now can we *please* have our snacks? And then we'll leave you in peace and quiet to whatever you're up to, which I'll get out of you sooner or later, Kitty..."

"Not *this* time!" Kitty called out, hearing Amanda laugh again.

Meanwhile, Pete walked across the kitchen and looked inside Moira's antique icebox now converted to a post-modern freezer. "Chocolate do fer you, Sefton?"

"Oh, yes... Yes, that sounds just right for sinful self-indulgence."

Pete grabbed the large container he'd spotted, then walked over and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack, and being careful to keep his body positioned so that the two outside couldn't see in to the table where his own special treat was stretched out waiting. He thrust the pickle jar and a gallon of chocolate ice cream into Nightcrawler's three-fingered hands, grumbling, "Ok, *now* will you lot go away? Yer right strange, mate, you know that? Friggin' gherkins as a bloody sleep aide, while the most sinful thing yer gorgeous lady friend 'ere can manage t' think of is soddin' ice cream? Wise up, go play at tailsies, you silly buggers, try somethin' new an' different with that cold, dark, gooey stuff..."

He snatched the camera from Amanda's hands while she was convulsed with laughter, and slammed the door shut in their faces. They could hear Kitty's muffled giggles over the screech of the bolt being shot again as Amanda took her dumbstruck chevalier by the arm and gently but firmly led him away.

Continued in Part 4...