WARNING:
THERE IS EXPLICIT SEX IN THIS STORY. I will mark those parts clearly in the header. The sex is graphic and sometimes kinky (especially in this part!), but all loving and consensual. If reading sex scenes like that would offend you, please don't read this.

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Part 4

"Are you very upset?"

"About what?" Brian muttered sleepily, his voice muffled against his wife's flesh where his head lay pillowed between her lush breasts.

They'd gotten into the habit of retiring early each evening, so Betsy could get her rest but not feel left out of anything. Now Brian and Meggan lay together in a monumental, twist-turned four-poster canopy bed dating back to 1660, the traditional heavy brocade replaced with light, gauzy white linen. The same gauzy white linen hung at the windows also, keeping the room bright and airy even in gloomy weather.

A sea-grass sisal rug lay on the floor, its rough natural fiber more comfortable to the elemental than any antique Bokhara could be. A dark oak chest stood at the foot of the bed; a walnut sidetable Brian used as his dresser stood against the wall on 'his' side of the bed and the dark pine lowboy Meggan used as her dresser stood next to the bed on the other side, with a large mirror hanging above it, all the pieces decorated with characteristic Jacobean relief carvings of geometric or floral motifs and accentuated mouldings used to divide areas into geometric shapes. An early 17th century tapestry from Brussels hung over the fireplace mantel, while an 18th century Anglo-Dutch leather screen stood by the desk -- as did a large wing chair, its two matching tobacco linen covered side chairs against the walls, all with heavily turned legs and stretchers under their upholstered sets and backs. All those sedate, neutral tones contrasted with the bold blue-and-gold Jacobean hand-blocked linen, made by Robert Kime, that covered the walls. A few pieces of blue-and-white 17th century Kangxi porcelain picked up the blue in the wall linen, although pride of place went to a small plate with lilac pink border and gold edging, painted in the center with a spray of poppies by William 'Quaker' Pegg -- a favorite piece of Brian and Betsy's mother.

"About Betsy making all these plans for you without asking you?" Meggan had been picking up such a melange of feelings up from Brian lately, sometimes she wasn't sure if he was more concerned about his sister's pregnancy... or about her intentions for him.

"Not really." One large hand reached out, to play gently with silky tendrils of golden blonde hair, winding long strands around his finger in complicated cat's-cradles. "I admit, while she was off in the States I'd forgotten how much she used to boss me around -- but I'm used to women ordering me about, I've had *long* practice with that!"

"I'm sorry, Brian, you know I really don't mean to..."

"Oh, I don't mean *you*, love!" Braddock heaved himself up partway, supporting his weight on his elbow while he peered down at his bedmate's face. "And you have *nothing* to apologize for, *I*'m the one who should apologize to you -- and I know I don't do it often enough..."

He fell silent, as they both remembered the past for a long moment. Then Meggan reached up one slender, milky arm, and pulled him back down into a warm hug. "It's all right, Brian, really... It's all behind us now..."

"Not if I run for office, and get elected, and can't handle the pressure -- and start drinking again." He nestled against her, skimming his hand along her ribcage and past down her waist to draw lazy circles around her navel -- the only feature dimpling the perfectly smooth, soft belly. "But I don't think that'll happen -- not after Moira helped me see how wrong I was. I was angry at Courtney and Roma and Sat-yr-9 for manipulating me, but I wasn't able to get back at them, so I took it all out on you."

She was running her own hands up and down his back, scratching her nails lightly over his rougher skin, making the muscles underneath twitch and ripple. "Moira said it was my fault too -- that you resented me for being so childish, so needy, that I demanded too much from you..."

He would have preferred to take all the blame himself, but he'd learned the value of honesty the hard way. "Well, you did cling, love, a bit too much. Part of me really wanted that -- how I loved to swagger around as your gallant knight! -- but, deep inside, I resented it -- because I didn't want to admit to myself, or to anyone else, that I was always really happier taking orders rather than taking responsibility. Now, at least, I know that, I can admit it... and I know that I can trust you and Betsy -- and Kurt, and Moira, and Kitty, and even that boor Wisdom -- to have the team's and the rest of the world's good at heart -- which I certainly couldn't with Roma and Sat-ur-nine... and especially not Sat-yr-9..."

"I can't compare to Betsy! Or Kurt or Moira or Kitty or Pete -- I'm not that smart, I don't always know what the right thing to do is!" There wasn't the faintest hint of envy in the blonde fay's melodious voice -- it wasn't in her to be envious of any of her friends, only to admire them.

"You've grown strong on your own, love -- even if you are more delicate about expressing yourself than Betsy usually is." The handsome Englishman smiled fondly, and his hand resumed its exploration of her body, moving up to caress an ample white breast, tweaking the rosy nipple for an instant, then sliding back down onto the velvety soft mound.

"So, are you very upset, how she's pushing you around?" It was the same question as before, but the elemental's voice was much lighter this time, more teasing than worried as she tasted her husband's mellow mood.

"No, of course not! At least she's honest and open about pushing me around!" His hand slipped downward again, while his mouth bent to take his fingers' place, suckling at her breast.

"But she's not giving you any choice -- about running or about what to do when you get elected." Meggan shifted her weight, turning toward him slightly.

"That'll change, with time," he said firmly, after he'd disengaged his mouth and lifted his head again. "Right now, she's bored; huge as she is, this close to giving birth, scheming about getting me elected is about all she can do -- and Betsy certainly isn't used to doing as little as she can! How many other people do you know who could keep up a career as a world-famous model while working as a STRIKE agent? But, once the baby's born she'll have something else to take up most of her attention."

"Do you mean she'll forget about your running?" She looked dubious.

"No, I doubt that! I just mean she'll be way too busy to micromanage my political career! But I'm also sure she *will* get her way, sooner or later, about mutant politics or anything else she sets her mind on -- she always does. But I won't be her puppet; we may agree on many things, but I won't take orders blindly, ever again. But I'm not really worried -- no matter how cold and scheming Betsy sometimes seems, she's still my twin, and I know she means well. And she just may be right -- maybe this *is* the right time for political action on mutant rights; things aren't anywhere near as bad for mutants and other 'specials' here in Britain as in the States -- thanks to Kurt and the others -- but we all need to work harder and smarter to try to make sure things stay that way. And arguing through the issues and legalizing both rights and responsibilties *has* to help... that's where Xavier went wrong, you know, he's made no effort to work on civil, legal protections, or to educate the public, or to help the majority of emerging mutants, except his chosen few. I have a few ideas of my own, actually, on how to help..."

His palm was stroking the delicate golden down between her legs almost absently, his fingers gliding along the hidden folds below, which unfurled in mute welcome while he went on more slowly, obviously thinking the matter through even as he spoke. "Both the well-off and the poor can buy themselves politicians to look out for their interests, either quite simply with money, or more indirectly, with votes. But who speaks for Gatecrasher and the Technet, and Cerise, the Warpies... and Lockheed? We need to work out laws and regulations and procedures for so *many* special situations -- calmly and rationally and coherently, not on a patchwork, piecemeal basis -- so Betsy can prove she's really Betsy... so we could prove Sat-yr-9 *isn't* Courtney... Do you realize, even if we *could* catch her, we still might not be able to try her for murder? Right now, she probably *is* Courtney, at least legally -- after all, her fingerprints and bloodtype and DNA all match Courtney... as Betsy's don't match Betsy any more!"

"I know what you mean," Meggan said, smiling encouragingly, when Brian fell silent apologetically, after accidentally bringing up the ever-sore subject of Courtney Ross yet again. "Is Kylun -- *Colin* now, I mean -- a child, based on his birthdate, or an adult, based on the time he spent in E'erath?" She'd always liked the fierce but gentle warrior and had kept in touch with him after he'd left Excalibur, to return to the parents the young Colin McKay had left behind when he'd fallen through Widget while fleeing Vixen, only a few years ago here. However, almost twenty years had passed in that other world where time ran differently until his wife's death, his return to earth and his joining Excalibur. "At least *he*'s only having problems with his age." A paternity -- and maternity -- test had easily verified his identity.

"He's one of the luckier ones, then. But we *do* need laws for his case, and for all the other peculiar circumstances that can come up with mutants and mystics and aliens and other-dimensional alternate selves, not just for mutants and other 'specials' but for 'normal' people too -- what if that Nazi Reichminister fur Genetics McTaggert had decided she wanted to stay here, in our world, and take over our Moira's life? Could anyone have stopped her -- legally, I mean? So, if Betsy thinks I'm the right person to start the ball rolling, if she thinks it's my duty, all I can do is try, even if I don't want to be a politician... just like you won't enjoy being a politician's wife, love -- will you mind terribly? I know you said Betsy's idea is a good one... But think about it, Meg. Wives don't get much more of a private life than MPs themselves. I'll tell Betsy no, if you decide you'd rather not..."

"No, I think it *is* a good idea, Brian," Meggan assured her man earnestly. "Betsy's right -- you could do a lot of good... but..."

"But what?" When she didn't reply immediately, he prompted gently, "What, love? This concerns both of us, you know -- it's not anything I can do without you..."

"I'm afraid... You might be right, Brian -- I don't think I'll make a good politician's wife." Meggan's expressive face wrinkled in worry. "I'm afraid you need somebody like Courtney instead -- the real Courtney, I mean, not Sat-yr-9, of course..." She forced her voice to stay steady when mentioning the beautiful, wealthy, sophisticated blonde banker and socialite who'd been her rival for Brian Braddock until her death... and beyond.

"You're right and you're wrong, love. Courtney Ross *would* have made a perfect politician's wife -- or a perfect politician herself! -- but only for a *traditional* politician... just as she might have made a good wife for Brian Braddock the man if I'd been *just* an engineer and a landholder and a businessman. But *you*'re a better wife and partner for Captain Britain campaigning for metahuman rights... and for Brian Braddock, part Otherworlder and sometime servant of Merlyn and Roma, you can understand and accept *all* of me as no one else could..."

Braddock fell silent then as Meggan embraced him, almost fiercely. Rolling and tumbling them around the enormous bed, skin to skin, her soft lips kissed a hot, moist path down to the hollow of his throat, lingering there, tongue darting out to tease the thrumming pulse, making him jump when she found a particularly sensitive spot. Her pale white hands were everywhere, sliding like silk up her husband's back, then down and around, fingertips playing tickly little patterns on his belly, then lower, palm cupping, slowly wrapping around his pulsing erection.

The delicate elemental pulled back again, looking down at the blond behemoth lying next to her, smiling, her brilliant green eyes sparkling with golden hightlights.

"Meg... I want..."

"I know," she murmured, leaning over for another kiss. "I can feel it..." She took one of his hands in hers and guided it downward, trailing his fingertips lightly over her waist and belly, moving it even lower, until his hand bumped the long, hard, slender column of flesh now rising from the center of the triangle of golden down between her legs. "Don't worry, Brian, I want it too."

Well, of course she did, her husband reassured himself. Learning to be more her own person hadn't turned off her empathy -- it just meant she deliberately chose when to indulge another's wishes and fantasies, rather than letting others' desires take control of her involuntarily. And, as a changeling child, Meggan hadn't been brought up with society's traditional strictures on which activities were 'right' or 'wrong'... instead, the blonde fay usually operated on her own version of the golden rule, doing unto others what made them feel better about themselves and the world.

He left her to reach over to the bedside table, for the tube of lubricant they kept handy in a drawer, while he rolled over onto his stomach. Grabbing a pillow from his own side of the bed, he lifted his body up so he could slide it under his hips.

Once he was ready he waited for her impatiently, balancing himself on the palms of his hands, the pillow raising his buttocks slightly higher than the rest of him, lifting himself for easier penetration. Meggan moved around behind and above him, using her hands to spread his rear cheeks apart, smoothing the cool, slippery gel into the hidden crevice, gradually working first one slick finger, then another, into him, stretching him. As he thrust backward, trying to impale himself even more deeply, she pulled her fingers back out, making him whimper. "Hush, love, just another minute -- I'm coming in..." Positioning her morphed erection carefully, she gave a little push, just enough to see the tip of her shaft lodged inside her husband's tight opening, then let gravity do most of the work for her, sinking into him with excruciating slowness. Brian was sure he'd lose it any second. A small, strangled sound issued from his suddenly dry lips as, gently at first, she began to move, gradually picking up speed and momentum, rocking deeper with each endless stroke, pulling all the way out, driving back down to him, rotating her hips, bucking and plunging as far back in as she could possibly go, making his heart race so fast that over-wrought organ threatened to pound right out of his chest.

The blood thundering in his temples, the giant blond man gasped and moaned, his hands scrabbling in the bunched-up sheets, his hips flexing, rolling, jerking back to meet her thrust for thrust, and down to hump into the pillow even as Meggan's legs tightened on either side of his pelvis, holding him still, while her hand snaked under him, grasping his straining erection, milking him with long slender fingers curled tight around him, palm rubbing up and down... And they could both feel the orgasm, as his flesh swelled in her grasp, as the pressure built at the base of his spine to surge upward, his relief and his seed both spilling out in front only to seemingly return to him where Meggan skewered him from behind. Fireworks went off behind his/her eyes; slick, satiny heat enveloped her/him, engulfing him/her, gripping her/him like a glove... Now, as she fucked him -- just as those other times when he'd been the one fucking her -- his wife tapped into his feelings and sensations and rebroadcast them overlaid with her own response until the boundary between penetrator and penetrated -- giver and receiver, active and passive -- all blurred away, the intense sensations reverberating between them in a tight feedback loop unraveling them both simultaneously, orgasm ripping them both apart at the same time...

Brian didn't remember blacking out, but when he slowly swam back to awareness he was lying on his back, Meggan curled up next to him, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, the blonde fay still breathing in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. Faint streaks of light were just beginning to paint the gauzy curtains with the golds and reds of sunrise.

His empath wife awoke almost immediately. She stretched languidly, smiling at him contentedly, and he suddenly laughed. "Well, one thing's for sure, love -- there's at least *one* thing I won't have to worry about if I get elected!" Meggan started to giggle as she picked up on the mirth behind his mischievous, bad-little-boy smirk. "They might dig up my drinking, or that silly story that *I* murdered Courtney -- but they won't catch me during some police raid on a cathouse, or soliciting poof boys in dark alleys, like some MPs I could name! No sex scandals for me!" His leer softened to a warm, tender smile. "Not when I can get my every fantasy fulfilled right at home..."

Concluded in Epilogue...