Subject: [Mindgames] [FIC] NEW "Hidden Desires" 1/1 NC-17 Emma/Sean
Date: Sat, 7 Aug 1999 10:48:36 -0500
From: "squirrel" <squirrel@enteract.com>
Reply-To: Mindgames@onelist.com
To: <Mindgames@onelist.com>

From: "squirrel" <squirrel@enteract.com>

Hi everyone. I'm new to the list but quite excited to be here! Here's a bit
of mind candy I penned, an Emma/Sean tale. I don't know about others on this
list, (and as much as I like Bobby Drake), I prefer Emma with Sean (Moira
who?) Cassidy. Call me a sucker for those bickering-laden romances of 1940s
movies ;-)

Maia

Hidden Desires and One Little Bed
By Maia

RATING:NC-17 for sexual content

*Warning* This story is rated NC17 for romance novel style sex; if
you're under the age of 18 -- This is not for you -- Turn back now
*******************************

Summary: On a trip up to Westchester, Sean and Emma discover a
vintage 50s motel and give in to their hidden feelings for one another.

Author's Notes: This takes place shortly after Emma loses her powers to
the Psi war, Gen X #42. As I wrote this, I imagined Sean's looks to
resemble a cross between his Phalanx Covenant image and the early
Bachalo/Gen X days. Emma, likewise, is her perfect early Gen X self,
bobbed hair and all. Also, please forgive the ellipses and dashes. In the
true vein of artistic license, I think they make perfect sense for the fits
and stops of human thought and speech. Send comments and just plain
talk to: squirrel@enteract.com

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings belong to Marvel;
they are used without permission, and no profit is being made by this
story. The plot, however belongs to me. Redistribution of this story for
profit is illegal. Please do not archive without first getting my
permission.

"He's got his hands in my hair and his lips everywhere..." The
Pretenders

"When the lights go out it's just the three of us -- you, me and all that
stuff we're so scared of..." Bruce Springsteen, "Tunnel of Love"

**********************************************************

"There probably isn't too much more we can do up here that you haven't
already done in Snow Valley, Sean." Dr. Hank McCoy's calm, friendly
voice rang over their telephone connection. "But, it may be a
consolation to Emma to have Jean to talk to."

"Hmmm..." Sean Cassidy replied, trying to imagine Emma Frost and Jean 
Grey Summers actually having a good old-fashioned, heart-to-heart, girl 
talk. Not bloody likely was his initial gut reaction. "Well, I can't say 
I'll give th' talkin' idea much hope, but," the Irishman paused slightly,
'tis all we've got at th' moment." Then, as a light after thought, he
added, "Besides, if we don't do something t'get Emma's psi powers
back, she's likely to eat every last pint of Ben and Jerry's we have in
frozen storage. Or, take it out on me. Neither of which appeals t'me,
lad."

From the other end of the phone, he heard the mutant doctor let out a true
belly laugh as he said his good-byes and hung up. Well, at least he could
make someone laugh about the situation. It had taken them two days to
figure out what exactly had caused the psi wave that swept across the
planet, effecting every telepath in its way. The result had been apparent
immediately -- every member of the school with psi abilities, from Emma
on downward, lost their powers. What was still unknown, even now, was
how long, if ever, before each telepath's powers would come back. In his
basic instincts, Sean felt the best place to look for answers, even if Beast
claimed he had none, was the Xavier Institute in Westchester, New York
-- home to the X-Men.

So it had been settled, despite Emma's worse protestations, that Bishop
would watch the kids for the weekend while Sean and Emma drove to
Westchester. At least, Sean considered, without her powers Emma
couldn't do anything more threatening to him than give him dirty looks
and pout. Secretly, though, he suspected she was willing to swallow any
amount of pride, and face the poking and prodding of more medical tests,
to get her powers back. He could see it in her face when he watched her
without being noticed. She was more than a bit afraid of not getting her
telepathic abilities back; mostly, he suspected, because without them, she
felt she couldn't protect the children very well. That wasn't really true,
of course. He knew, and had more than a few bruises to prove, that she
could fight well bare-fisted. She was more than well toned and trim, and
she had trained for years in combat techniques.

But being a telepath gave Emma her real sense of power. It was the only
thing that had saved her from an institutionalized life as a teen, abused 
as she had been at the hands of the very people who were supposed to be
caring for her. Even now, the thought of it drew shudders from his very
soul. He knew that experience had changed her life forever, not only by
being the catalyst that freed her emerging powers, but also by making
her vow to never be a victim again. To always be the one in control.
Always.

That certainly wasn't the case now, with her powers gone. True, she was
still Emma Frost, Headmistress at the Massachusetts Academy and head
of the vast business and financial empire she'd created over the years.
But she was no longer Emma Frost, telepath. He knew that somewhere,
deep down, she was hurting from the loss, feeling powerless and
vulnerable. And with a flash of awe, he realized that it pained him to
know she was hurting. That despite all that had passed between them
over the course of their work at the school, all the misunderstandings, 
the fights, the initial mistrust, he would do anything, *give* anything, 
to help her be whole again.

With a shrug, Sean tried to push the uncomfortable idea away - his
feelings for Emma. Emma. Proud, challenging, stubborn Emma, with her
uncanny knack for throwing him on his ear. If it wasn't her fearless
devotion to the kids and the work that unnerved him, it was the quiet
sensuality she continued to slowly reveal to him, like Salome dropping
her veils one by one. That was it, really. The slow unveiling of the 
real Emma that fascinated him, thrilled him, lured him in despite every
instinct that screamed to run for the hills. The slow unveiling of the 
real woman behind the fatade.

Without question, Emma was the most complicated, layered and
camouflaged woman he'd ever met. Period. Even in the time he'd spent
in the criminal underworld, or during his assignment with Interpol, 
he'd never met a more guarded, misunderstood, but utterly fascinating
woman. To the outside world at large, and especially, he noted with
regret and simmering annoyance, to his ex, Moira MacTaggert, Emma
was nothing more than the White Queen, nothing more than raw
sexuality and ruthless ambition. Her former attire as the Hellfire Club's
Queen hadn't helped to persuade people against that image either. But
then that had been the intent of the costume. Emma was, after all, a
master of mind games -- and the one devised to attract your eye to her
body as she fried your mind was one of the best.

Sean couldn't deny he found her to be sexually alluring, very much so, 
if his recent bouts with erotic Emma dreams were any indication. But her
hit-you-over-the-head-with-sex image, even if it was a bit toned down
these days, wasn't what he fantasized about. At night, his dream Emma
was always dressed in a long, white silky nightgown that swept her
ankles as she moved. Sometimes, she also had a matching white dressing
gown, which he liked to imagine slowly slipping off her soft shoulders
and down her bare arms in a rustle of silk. The softer, feminine sexuality
of Emma, that's what he liked best. The other, hidden half of her usual
self.

This was the half that was beginning to show, every now and then, in
little bursts. He'd catch her trying to cook dinner for the kids, or giving
Artie and Leech milk and cookies without a single trace of annoyance, or
catch her smiling, laughing, being genuine for a brief moment. He'd
always suspected it was below her rough exterior, ever since that first
terrible day she'd taken over Bobby Drake's body post-coma and ran
headlong into the truth about her former, deceased pupils. The absolute
sorrow he'd heard in her voice, the shock and despair - that couldn't
have come from someone heartless. Such deep felt painful emotions
could only exist where other deep felt positive emotions existed, ones
she only now, after all this time, was slowly showing. Maybe being here
at the school, with the kids, with *him* would be her final undoing, for
the good. The final transformation of Emma Frost.

And then what? What happened when she made the final transformation
into a woman he could truly love?

With a numbed thought, he found he didn't know the answer. He'd kept her 
at bay in his heart for so long by the idea that she couldn't be trusted,
could never be the kind of woman for him. But what was that kind of
woman -- his kind of woman? He wasn't sure anymore. Moira had fit the
description for a long time -- kind, caring, intelligent, full of life. 
But lately...there was nothing between him and Moira any more -- not in 
a woman and man sort of way. Yes, he still cared for her -- always would.
There was affection and love, of a sort. But he wanted something more,
something fresh and alive, something passionate...something like the
thing Emma did to him. Someone to spur him on, challenge him to grow,
someone who shared his level of passion and devotion -- someone like...
Emma.

Dear god.

The singular thought hit him like a thunderbolt, out of the blue, straight
to his very soul. All this time...while he was fighting and arguing and
crossing wills with Emma... he was falling in love. *Love.*

With a sigh, he ran his hand through his red hair and slowly made his
way to his room for the night. They were leaving in the morning, and the
way it looked, he'd need a good night's rest. It was going to be a long
drive to Westchester. Very long indeed.

******************************************

"Are you sure we should have left the kids with Bishop? The man
doesn't even have a last name."

"Em, I dinnae think he needed a last name in th' future, er, *his* future..
damn quantum mechanics.. where he had experience trainin' young
recruits in th' XSE. Besides, we both said we wanted to expose th' kids
to different teachin' styles," Sean replied.

"Humph." Emma replied back, munching as she did on a caramel corn
rice cake.

Silence hung in the car for the passing of a mile or two. Outside the car
window, cows flashed by in the distant green landscape.

"Are you sure he's not teaching the kids '101 ways to utilize a really big
gun'?"

"I'm sure, Emma. Have another rice cake."

She let the comment bounce off her without too much thought. The old
Emma would have lashed out, but she had promised herself she would
try and be nice on the trip to Westchester, for Sean's sake. He had been
awfully nice and supportive lately. Quietly, deciding it was better to bite
a snack than bite her tongue, she reached over to her bag of rice cakes
and ate another. At least they were fat free. And anyway, Sean could say
all he wanted; she had the road map - the real power in the car.

After twenty minutes or so of silence, minus her munching, she came to
the conclusion that if she was going to spend what felt like eternity in
this car with Sean, she might as well get comfortable. Reaching over to
the car's stereo, Emma turned the system on. "Those fingers in my hair, that 
sly come hither stare, that strips my conscience bare, it's witchcraft..."

Grimacing noticeably at the thought of being in a car filled with mushy,
romantic music and Sean Cassidy, especially with her recent thoughts of
him, Emma raised a manicured hand and switched the stereo's station.
The sounds of Sinatra filled the car again. "Fly me to the moon, let me
play among the stars..."

Emma stared at the car stereo as if it were possessed -- two Sinatra songs
on two different stations? Quantum theory did account for any
probability, but this was a bit too weird. Firmly grasping the stereo tuner
knob, Emma sent the dial wildly flying to the left.

"Strangers in the night, exchanging glances, wondering in the night, what
were the chances, we'd be sharing love ..."

"Sean, are you doing this?" Emma stared at him, incredulous at the
prospect of Sinatra on every station on the radio. It was too, too weird,
Heisenberg principle or not. It had to be Sean's doing, somehow.

"Emma, I am good, but not that good." Her partner replied, keeping his
eyes on the road but chuckling a little at her frustration.

She considered voicing her initial reply to the comment -- yes, she
thought he *would* be rather good, and then decided against it. The
usual sexual tension between them was somehow stronger today than it
had been, and there was no sense in fueling the fire. There were days she
didn't know what she wanted from Sean. And then, there were days she
felt she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted to taste his sweet lips
on hers, drawing her breath away with passionate kisses. She wanted to
feel the sharp stubble of his unshaven chin under her lips as he moaned
her name softly. She wanted to feel his hot skin on hers with nothing
and no one getting in the way. She wanted to feel herself writhing under
his strong hands as he caressed every inch of her, gradually taking her to
the brink. And she wanted to hear him growl in release - a fierce, dark,
erotic moan of submission and pleasure, torn from his very soul... And
that didn't even cover her daydreams about babies with his red hair and
her blue eyes...

*Emma,* she mentally chided herself for having the thought. It was no
good to go there, because it would never happen. She couldn't seduce
him away from Moira and still have his respect. And she doubted he
would come of his own free will. *Back to the music, Emma.*

Rolling her eyes at both the music and his comment, Emma reached for
the radio's dial and tried again. If Sinatra came on one more time, she
would roll down the window and scream. "If it's not love, then it's the
Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb
that will bring us together ..."

It was the Smiths, a throwback to the days she'd taught the Hellions,
playing at top volume in all its glorious pop music bounciness. Even
without her powers, it all came rushing back. The students used to like
this kind of music, not like the bizarre things she heard come out of
Angelo's or Jubilee's rooms these days. It was happy and bouncy, and
instantly reminded her of bright yellow smiley faces. And for once, she
found she didn't really mind. Didn't mind remembering a happy memory
of her former students, didn't mind the happy, bouncy sounds. She felt a
tiny smile escape her lips after a moment, and then hid it behind another
bite of rice cake.

Looking at her from the corner of his eye, Sean caught her tiny smile and
felt himself warm up inside. It was good to see her smile. His thoughts
about her slow transformation from the other day came back to him, and
on the heels of that, his ever surpressed feelings for her. Trying to
change the subject for himself, even as he felt a blush creep over his
face, Sean spoke up. "So, ye're a Smiths fan, are ye, Emma?"

Sean turned his head to face her and smiled with an inquisitive look. His
partner never lost a beat.

 "Yes. Although I would have denied it to the students, I did own a radio
back then and occasionally, when no one was around, even turned it on."

The radio played on and the two mutants lost themselves for a while just
listening to the pop music. 'So if there's something you'd like to try, if
there's something you'd like to try, ask me, I won't say no, how could I?'

God, Emma thought after the song died down and switched to some
other pop hit. How long had it been since she had actually permitted
herself to relax, to enjoy herself? To not worry about work, or the kids?
To not worry about all the myriad dangers that lurked in the outside
world? To let her guard down a little. To listen to silly pop music. To
just allow herself to be a normal woman... Far too long.

To be a normal woman wasn't really her way. Her way hung somewhere
between Homo superior perfection and a more human, methodical way
of approaching any situation, any problem as if it were simply a knot to
be untied, and mastered. The true foundation of her personality was her
calm, rational take on the world. To her, the world was something to be
carved and molded to her shape and will. It was a fierce, cruel world
where one had to be the best, had to push one's self to be the best, to
make it; to make sure no one ever took away your freedom.

But somewhere in the far reaches of her soul dwelt another aspect of
herself too. This one was tiny, composing only a minute portion of who
she was. And yet, every once in awhile this little something would peek
around a corner, and beckon to her, its very essence glowing with such
intensity as to eclipse her other more logical self. That part was the part
that enjoyed the pop song, and giving milk and cookies to Artie and
Leech, and eating rice cakes. The part that seemed more...real...than
the logical, cool self she projected daily

Watching Sean out of the corner of her eyes, she couldn't help but
wonder. *When people ask you what your partner is like, what do you
tell them?* She could well imagine what picture it conjured in the minds
of others when they found out who his partner was in this educational
endeavor -- the White Queen, in all her fierce bitchiness and cruel
intentions. There was shock, disbelief and a bit of repulsion. How did
poor Mr. Cassidy put up with her?

Well, to hell with them. She'd never bothered with the opinions of others
before, and she was damned if she'd start now. The only opinion she
found she wanted, as she followed the natural flow of her thoughts, was
from the man seated next to her in the car. *How do you see me, Sean*
she wondered as she watched him out of the corner of her sunglasses.

She wanted him to see her as a woman deeply devoted to the cause they
both championed, the next generation of mutants. She wanted him to see
her as tough and confident, but fair; a good teacher, willing to do
whatever it took. More than anything, she wanted him to see her as a
changed woman, more giving and patient, less evil, more good. But was
that what he saw?

That wasn't really fair, she silently chided herself a moment later. 
After all, how would she answer if people asked her about Sean? He's an
excellent man and teacher -- truly giving with no thought for himself,
kind and caring, with faith in goodness that was big enough to move
mountains. He's a true fighter, championing the underdog to the last,
with courage and just plain guts to spare.

She didn't delude herself, though. Even though she cared for him, she
recognized he wasn't a saint. He had his moments of blindness,
obstinacy, righteousness, and yes, even cruelty. But she knew that even
those instances of less than exemplary behavior came from a gut level
need to make things right, just as her own actions did.

*I need him.* The thought popped into her mind before Emma had the chance 
to filter it out. It was the god-awful truth she had tried to dispute
and then ignored for months. Sean Cassidy had become an important, no
*vital* part of her life. In too many ways, he complimented her until
they became a unified whole -- yin and yang, light and dark, two sides of
the same coin.

It hurt to be apart from him. That much certainly had hit home when
he'd taken off with Penny after the kids had gone missing during
Operation Zero Tolerance. She'd been angry and hurt by his actions in a
way she'd never felt before -- and the days after, waiting and wondering
when he'd return, and feeling miserable that she'd caused the rift
between them once again. That had been hell. The elusive link they had
between them, a bond of sorts, had been tested to the snapping point.
Even now, it was still mending itself, but at least now Emma understood
that it was something she could not live without.

She supposed in a way that it was love -- real love, not the mooning,
syrupy-sweet kind, but then, when was she ever mooning and syrupy-
sweet? No -- this was real, I-see-your-faults-and-want-you-anyway love.
She didn't even know when it had happened. She was sure Sean didn't
suspect, and maybe never would. Did he share her feelings? She didn't
have a clue, and even if she had her powers, she was afraid to find out.
The White Queen, afraid of something for the first time in her life.
Imagine that, she sarcastically mused, lost in her thoughts.

"Emma, where are we on th' map?" Sean asked, interrupting her reverie.

She turned before thinking, still caught up in her thoughts, and met his
gaze unflinching. He has beautiful eyes, her mind registered as its only
thought. Even for so handsome a man, they easily stood out as his best
feature. She doubted it was just their deep green color which attracted
her, although she had to admit that the green pools presently staring back
at her were as arresting a hue as she had ever seen.

"Em?"

She caught him watching her, an odd look, something like...concern...
painted in his eyes as he watched.

Shaking herself out of the self-induced romantic trance, she found her
voice at last. "You mean we're not at the junction yet?"

"Um... " This time, it was Cassidy's turn to be dumb-founded.

"You do know which way you're suppose to be going, don't you?" Emma
eyed him suspiciously from the passenger seat. Gone were her thoughts
of deep green pools and small red-haired children with blue eyes.
Something was suspicious, and she didn't need her telepathy to
understand what.

"Aye. But...this has t'be Hank's doing. Somehow." Sean admitted
reluctantly.

"I beg your pardon?" Emma's eyes narrowed considerably as she looked
back at him, gorgeous eyes or no.

"With the recent construction on the Interstate an' all - I'm followin'
Hank's new drivin' instructions. " He paused. Silence filled the car for
the passing of several seconds. Somewhere in the distance, the noise of
small children screaming in a passing mini-van could be heard.

"And?" Emma braced herself for the other proverbial shoe to drop. This
could not be good news.

"We're still a wee bit lost."

Unbeknownst to her, no doubt it had happened the minute she'd taken
her eyes off the road to open the bag of rice cakes, their misfortune
begun when Sean missed their exit. It must have happened, she thought
back, when she'd seen him fiddling to open a granola bar wrapper while
driving. A completely understandable mistake. Not one that *she* would
have made, but somewhat understandable. As Sean explained it to her
now, the next exit had been fifteen miles down the road and under
construction to boot. That had been twenty minutes ago. They were still
lost, they were still looking for exit 45A, and Sean still had granola
crumbs on his shirt. Emma laughed a little to herself at the thought,
thinking it served him right for eating granola, not rice cakes, and
insisting she go on this trip to begin with.

With a patient, almost martyr-like sigh, she reached over to the car's
glove compartment for her trusty, never-leave-home-with-Sean-without-
it road map - her one last ray of hope against the thought of spending
eternity driving around.. whatever god-forsaken state this was... lost
with her partner.

Holding the much folded-over map nimbly in one hand, Emma pointed
out a small icon near the middle, talking to herself as she did so. "The
exchange for New York is here. Ah, so close and yet so far away. And
we're..."

Emma squinted as she looked at the map - pondering the document as if
it were some rare and ancient text. With no visible landmarks other than
an occasional cow, it was difficult to figure out where exactly on the map
they were.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught Sean watching
her as she tried to decipher her trusty map. "Sean, watch the road, not
me."

Several quiet seconds passed before Sean spoke up. "What about tha' red
marker there? That's an exit."

"That's a ketchup stain," Emma explained. Sean was quiet for a long time
after that.

After twenty more minutes, Emma abandoned both the map and the hope
of ever finding their destination. This was her fate on earth -- stuck in 
a car with a man she had.. feelings.. for, who didn't know of her feelings,
lost somewhere in the country with only rice cakes to sustain them.
Perfect.

Another long conversational lull fell across the car. Miles passed before
Emma found the nerve to speak.

"Sean?"

"Eh?"

"You still don't know where we are, do you?"

Silence hung in the car like a weight. Seconds ticked by.

"Um."

"I thought so."

**********************************

The day had gone from bad to worse, and then to...Sean didn't know if
there even was a word for whatever was beyond that. The flat tire just
inside the New York state line had been the final straw. Even now, as
they approached the hopelessly antiquated motel called the Tropicana,
six miles from where they'd left the car, Sean could still feel the hollow
feeling in the pit of his stomach that had accompanied the truth. He'd
remembered where he'd seen the car's spare tire -- under Jubilee as she'd
swung from her new tire swing in Artie and Leech's tree house. Two
weeks ago. He was going to murder that child when he had the chance.

The motel matched its namesake with a bizarre irony that reminded him
of the X Files. True, Frankie and Dino weren't playing in the lounge, the
hotel didn't even *have* a lounge, but it did have a very vintage post-
war pop culture style -- with fifties decor in robin-egg blue and peach and
glitter sprinkled stucco ceilings. It was almost like stepping back in time.
And when he met the owner, he understood why. He was at least ninety
years old, if he was a day.

"Good evenin' sir," Sean tried to sound upbeat about the whole situation,
as if they'd just driven up to the motel, and not hiked miles to it. "We'll
be needin' some rooms f'r th' night." He set his bag down on the floor
beside the counter where the old man stood.

"A fight, did ya say? Ah -- every time we have a busload of old folks
stayin' overnight, something happens. Heh -- those old folks like to get
around and travel," the manager said, completely oblivious to the fact
that a fight wasn't what Sean had just said, and the fact that he was
probably far older than the 'old folks' in question.

Old folks? Over night bus load? The hard of hearing old man's words
echoed back to Sean. Had he seen a bus out in front of the hotel? Yes,
he had, although at the time he'd been trying to gauge Emma's mood
about the whole affair and hadn't thought much of it. She'd been quiet
since the time they'd left the car. With a sick feeling, the final meaning
of the old man's words hit him fully. If there was a busload of seniors
here, did they have any room at all?

"Ye're not all booked up then?" Sean said louder this time, praying to
whoever heard him that the answer was no. He dreaded what would
happen to him by the hands of Emma if there was no room, psi powers or
not.

"Well, let's see here." The manager thumbed slowly through his large
reservation log. "There's only one room left. But for you and the missus..."

Sean cut him off politely before he could continue. "Look, we need two
rooms." He was leaning over the counter now, trying to keep his voice
low. "All I'm askin' is f'r two rooms f'r a night..."

"And I'm sorry I can't help you further." The manager spread his hands,
his eyes apologetic. "One or nothing, sonny..."

Cassidy turned to see Emma appear at his side, catching the last few
words of the conversation. She looked at him, a slight frown on her face.
Mentally, he braced himself for the verbal onslaught he was sure would
follow. At least, Sean thought like a man about to face his executioner,
she doesn't have her powers.

"Cassidy, don't be stupid. We can't go anywhere in the car without a
spare - and I'm *not* hiking six more miles back to go sleep in the car."
She nodded to the old man. "We'll take it."

*****************************

Two seconds after he'd opened the door to their room, Sean realized that
the day's previous calamities had been only the appetizer to the main
course. The cute, antiquated room the old man had given them, the
*last* room in the hotel that night, had one full sized bed. One. Full-
sized. Bed. No couch.

The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach returned with a vengeance,
and after tossing the keys on the room's small table while still carrying
his bag, he'd retreated to the bathroom. If he could have screamed with
the gift that made him a mutant, without shattering hearing aids across
the motel, he would have.

"Cassidy, are you going to stay in there all night?" Emma's voice rang
through the door five minutes later.

"Just give me a minute, woman." Just until he gained the upper hand
over the need for her that had roared to life ever since his mind had
understood he'd be sharing not only a room with her, but a bed as well.
He didn't understand where his needy desire for her came from. And if
he wasn't sure she'd lost her psi abilities, he would have swore it was
Emma. This wasn't like him -- or maybe, it just was so long since he'd
truly been turned on, he'd forgotten what hot-blooded desire was like. It
was a bit frightening, turning him inside out as much as turning him on.
He tried to slow his breathing, to clear his head. After a few minutes, he
calmed down and came to the very clear decision, it was definitely time
for a run. There was no way he'd survive a night with Emma Frost
otherwise.

Emma suppressed a smile as she watched him emerge, clad in sweats
and a T-shirt, from the bathroom, nod politely to her as he announced
his intent to run, and then disappear outside into the dusk, shutting the
room door behind him.

What was with him on this trip? She'd never seen squirrelier behavior in
all her life, especially not from her straight and narrow partner. It had 
to be Moira. No matter what it was, it had to be. He'd practically begged
the old man for another room. Was the thought of sharing a room with
her for one night so absolutely heinous to him? It wasn't really like him.
He'd once given her his bedroom when her house was uninhabitable.
But, that had been before the "Rift" as Emma called it. It *must* have
been Moira, poisoning Sean's mind against her during the time he'd taken
Penny away, and then went off to Muir Island. When she got her hands
on that nosey, interloping, arrogant Scot...

Sean poked his head inside the room, wiping the sweat with one arm
from his face, before she could finish her thoughts of revenge. Grabbing
a clean set of sweatpants and a football jersey from his bag, he retreated
past the now occupied bed into the bathroom, never giving so much as
nod. Fine, if that was the way he wanted it, she could play it cool and
professional too, thoughts of how good his muscled physique looked in
sweats notwithstanding. When he emerged from the bathroom, he would
find out she was more than Frost in name alone.

He emerged from the shower a half-hour later, rubbing a towel over his
hair vigorously. Pulling it off, he saw Emma was already curled up on
one side for the bed; glasses perched precariously on her nose, reading 
a child psychology magazine. She wore white silk men's pajamas,
thankfully. He doubted he could have managed himself if she'd stuck to
her usual, bare mode of sleeping. His thoughts strayed on their own to
the time he'd been greeted with the sight of Emma in his bed sheet, and
then without his bed sheet, the week she'd shared his cottage on the
campus. He blinked rapidly, trying to find his thoughts and failing
miserably.

"Ah...let me just get a pillow and I'll take th' chair..." His voice trailed
off as she looked at him over the top of her glasses with those incredibly
blue eyes, and then at the chair, with its molded, plastic seat and back in
a roundish shape, and thin black legs. For a moment, she considered
letting him sleep in the chair, if he wanted to be all cold and creepy about
sharing a bed with her...But no.. she couldn't do that to the man she
cared about...

"Cassidy - don't even think about it. How can you possibly sleep in that
chair? It belongs in a modernism museum, not a motel... well... the
whole *motel* belongs in a museum, but that's beside the point. The
point is your back won't stand another five hours of driving tomorrow if
you don't sleep in the bed. " She sighed with a mildly chilly air. "Look,
we're both adults. Just stay on your side, don't take all the covers and I
won't have to kill you."

He chuckled at her deadpan delivery, nodding his acceptance to his fate
reluctantly. Pulling an Irish magazine out of his bag, he climbed up onto
the bed, careful to keep very much to one side.

************

He had tried to stay atop the blankets, letting her have most of the
bed to herself. Nice theory. Bad practice. Since they had turned off 
the light, he had managed to crunch himself into a ball on one side,
managing to not only give himself a bad leg cramp, but the cool night
air coming in the slightly open window had him chilled to death. Moving
under the thick down comforter, he stretched out his legs and closed his
eyes again; trying not to think about how long it had been since he had
shared a bed with a woman...

From the other side of the small bed, she could feel the warm body
sliding under the blankets; felt him turn away from her as his body
relaxed and his breathing slowed. This nearness to him was unbearable,
even with him practically falling off the other end in an effort not to
crowd her. She could still feeling the tempting warmth of his form, smell
the clean scent of his soap, hear the soft rhythm of his breathing...
Fighting back the temptation, she took a deep breath and willed herself
to sleep...

The noise began without warning, from somewhere next door to their
room. Thumping. Squeaking of bedsprings. Rhythmic. Consistent. A
sound no adult with an even mildly vivid imagination could mistake.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Sean opened his eyes and then rolled them in
disbelief. Could this trip from hell possibly, possibly get any worse?

Beside him, Emma reached under her head for her sole pillow and
unceremoniously placed it over her head. From below its fluffy mass, he
heard her muffled reply to no one in particular. "I.. can't.. believe..
this! And you can't tell me those are seniors going at it like two rabbits
in heat next door."

Sean stifled a chuckle at her frustrated, dry wit. She really was good with
one liners when she wanted to be. "Do ye want me to bang on th' wall,
or somethin'?" Sean asked to the darkness in the room.

Emma made a small huffed sound from under her pillow. "Don't bother.
They probably would think you're a prude or something." She paused
and then added as an after thought, "You're not a prude or something,
are you?"

Twisting his lips into an unseen, ironic smile, he answered, "Nae,
woman, I try me best to let me lusty Celtic side out every now an' then,
just t'be sure."

The minute the words left his mouth, he regretted them, mostly because
they were so close to the truth. He'd just gotten so carried away with 
the light banter of the moment, he hadn't thought. There was a long,
awkward pause afterward, as both adults tried to figure out a way to
reply without revealing too much of their true feelings. In the end, Emma
came up with the old stand by.

"Well, good night Sean."

"G'night Emma."

********************************

At first, Emma thought the lusty couple from next door were at it again
as she heard the quiet, occasional moans through a haze of half-sleep,
half consciousness. If this continued, she swore she wouldn't be
responsible for her actions. Either she'd roll over and ravish Sean to an
inch of his life right here, or else she'd walk next door and ask them
what kind of miraculous sex tips they had for going at it all night long. 
In the end, she did neither, although the first option still seemed viable,
especially after she realized it was Sean moaning softly in his sleep next
to her. Perfect.

Figuring it was not meant for her to get any sleep, she rolled over and
propped herself up on one elbow, ready to nudge him awake and sound
him out for waking her with his dreams of Moira, no doubt. Try as she
could, ever after suppressing a shutter, she couldn't bring herself to wake
him as he slept soundly beside her. She found him to be a fascinating
silhouette in the dim shadows of the room, moving slightly in response
to whatever dream he was having. Apparently, it was quite a racy one
too, if his soft moans were any indication. And in light of that fact,
Emma decided that it might not be such a tragedy to be awake after all.

There was, without a doubt, something enigmatic and breathtaking about
watching someone sleeping. She liked taking a glimpse of something
secretive and private, and then relishing the heady feeling of exhilaration
in knowing that no one knew of her actions. Something very similar took
place when she "watched" people using her psi ability, an activity she
didn't engage in often for the mere fact that most people were hardly
worth the look. But this wasn't just someone beside her -- this was Sean.
And try as she might, she couldn't get the delicious notion of forbidden
fruit out of her head.

Stroking the length of his lean, trim figure slowly with her eyes, Emma
drank in the sight of Sean sleeping beside her. Stretched out in slumber
beneath the covers, Sean was athletic and solid, and muscular in a way
she loved most. All of the X Men kept themselves in extremely good
shape, a necessity borne out of the physical nature of their lives. On
Sean, this excellent physique standard looked perfect, not macho as it did
for the others. It suited him in a comfortable, natural way. She wondered
for a wild moment how good it would be to feel his strong arms around
her body, marveling in each swell and curve of his muscular build. She
had to admit, even if he was dreaming of another, fantasy woman,
watching his trim form was nice, letting her eyes wash over each inch
she yearned to duplicate with her hands.

His reddish hair lay tousled by sleep on his pillow, the rich, red-golden,
longer strands near the top of his head a marked contrast to the neatness
of his full sideburns and shortly trimmed nape. Emma brushed through
the thickness of his hair with her gaze, wanting to reach out and twine
her fingertips through the honeyed locks, unsullied yet by any gray,
although living with Generation X would soon change that. She
suspected that when that day came, it would suit him in a most seductive
way.

Despite her strong instinct to stop visually torturing herself with each
tempting sight, Emma carried on, taking her visual veneration to her
secret favorite spot on his body, his lips. Interaction, especially on this
part of her tour, was preferable, but then she'd learned along the way to
take what she could get when she could get it. And in this moment, that
meant contemplating Sean, lips and all.

Without a doubt, Sean's mouth was a dangerous weapon in that it was
the softest, most inviting mouth she'd ever seen, and in some instances
very regrettably, that was quite a few. The small teardrop of the upper lip
that fit perfectly into the rich, luxurious softness of his lower, she'd
never seen a more kissable mouth. As she watched, his mouth let out
another small, breathy sigh -- not soft with contentment, but low with
desire.

Intrigued once again with the idea that initially led her to this almost
voyeuristic activity, she smiled when she saw him restlessly stir beneath
the blanket. The way that his legs washed together, grating against each
other in an endless search for contact. The way that his cheeks flushed...

So, Sean was indeed aroused in his sleep, just as she suspected, dreaming
a dream that made his body fidgety and restless in slumber. Who could
blame him, based on the x-rated sounds from earlier in the evening? She
hoped to high heaven that he was indeed having a dream about the
Swedish Bikini Team, and not Moira. Sure, it would have been nice to
know it was about *her* -- if only she had her powers -- but she'd take
the Swedes over that tyrant Moira any day. What did he see in the
woman anyway?

Thoughts about Moira turned Emma's mood slightly sour, and she had
almost turned around and when back to bed, when she heard it. Soft and
quiet, had it been a dream? And then it repeated, unmistakable this time.

"Em..." He uttered before the rest of the word turned into a dark groan of
pleasure.

The sound stopped her dead. She knew that name. She even knew the way 
his lips turned to form the first syllable. The fact that she heard it in
any other setting but as the start of an argument shocked her enough. But
the fact that it was attached to... an erotic dream. Sweating, she laid
her head back down for a moment, and then whispered his own name. 'Oh,
God, Sean.'

On the heels of her shock came the thought -- what did she do next? The
old Emma would have teased him mercilessly as he slept, and then made
sure he knew *she knew* the real contents of his dreams. But now...She
really should let him sleep, she considered. But sensibility left little
room for imagination, particularly when the imagination was derived from 
the erotic. And 'reformed' or not, she wasn't one to back down from a
challenge, even if it was issued from an unconscious, sleeping man.

Finally, she settled the question with a rationalization: she'd quietly
explore his sleeping form, and if he awoke, which she hoped he would,
the least he could do is deny it and get mad. If that happened, she'd have
to play her trump card, and tell him of her shared feelings, but at least
she knew now that deep down, he wanted to be with her. He was, after
all, having erotic dreams of her -- it was a start.

Idly, she wondered what she was doing to him in his dream. Was she
touching his face? That might be nice, she considered and then stretched
out her hand to caress his cheek, just the whisper of her palm skipping
across the prickly surface of his nighttime stubble. The back of her
knuckles swept lower across his jaw, and to her delight, he parted his 
lips and let out a quiet, ragged moan.

"Like this..." She answered his reaction, attempting to fuse reality and
fantasy into one.

"Emma," Sean breathed. Slurred by sleep and languid arousal, the word
was soft, whispery and delicately sensual. Before she knew it, a shiver
traveled down her spine as a response. She wondered if he had any idea
what the sound of her name being uttered by that magical ripple of
lustrous satin that was his voice did to her. On more than one occasion,
in front of the students, it had been enough to distract her into empty
thoughts. And for that to happen to a telepath was quite a feat indeed.

Feeling even bolder, Emma let her fingers fall lightly on his lips, softly
circling a random pattern. Ah, she truly loved his lips. She loved the
vulnerability that he could express with one imploring pout, and his
dimple-filled, divine smile. She felt a smile of her own cross over her
face at the thought, letting her light fingers follow a trail from his lips
over his chin and into the hollow of his throat, all the while moving
achingly slow.

Finding that she couldn't bear to be without the taste of his lips any
further, in one smooth, quick motion, she descended on his perfect
mouth, lightly lining the contour of his lips with her own feathery
movements. It was then that her sleeping Adonis began to fully, if still
unconsciously, respond.

Before she could react, he covered her lips with his own, lacing her
mouth with fire. Still caught up in the actions of his dream Emma while
reality leaned over his sleeping form, Sean kissed her as he did in his
dream. She met his lips equally then, using a bit more force than before,
and with that, his perfectly emerald eyes fluttered underneath his soft
lashes, and he opened them to the waking world.

For one wild moment, Sean wasn't sure if he was still inside his dream,
or awake. Emma was still beside him, in either case, leaning over him as
she pulled back from his lips. She smiled at him then, amused slightly,
with a hint of something else, something almost feral in her eyes. He felt
himself blink at her, still confused between dream and reality, and then
the surroundings of the room hit him. Fifties-style furniture. Tiny, 
little bed. They were in the hotel, not Cassidy Keep as in his dream. He
looked over to see Emma still watching him. Saints preserve him, what
had he been doing while asleep?

Emma traced the evolution of his awareness in his eyes, going from
dreamy carnality to confusion, to shocked awareness of where he was
and what he'd been doing. From beneath her hand that still rested on his
chest, she felt his heartbeat speed up, his breathing increase. Silently,
she braced herself for what was to follow -- now was the moment of truth.

Sean found himself holding his own breath too, not daring to think. He'd
been dreaming of Emma, once again, only this time she'd been here with
him. She knew somehow too; he must have moaned her name in his
sleep. Damn it all...But then, hadn't she been kissing him back? He
guessed so. What to do now?

The decision for him on whether to continue was almost beside the point,
his body practically vibrated with the aroused tension the dream and her
actions had caused. He wanted her, here, in this hotel room. He wanted
to taste every last sweet inch of her tempting body. He wanted to make
her scream so loudly with pleasure, she'd wake the lusty, loud couple
next door. Silently, he wondered if she truly had any idea of what she did
to him. And if she did, what would she do now that he was no longer
safely asleep?

Leaning in closer, so that she could see the sheen of his perfect lower lip,
Emma seductively smiled. "Was it a good dream, Sean?"

She tried to keep her voice light, as if she were still his dream lover,
trying to uphold that title even now in consciousness. It was the only
way she was going to transition into the real world, into the real issue
between them -- their attraction and their lusty need. But she could only
tempt him so far, he'd have to make his own choice to follow.

He picked up on her unspoken invitation almost immediately, reading
the smoky, sensual look in her eyes with an eagerness that took her by
surprise. With a jolt that reached down to the very bottom of her soul,
she realized Sean wanted this too, wanted *her.* It was almost too
incredible to believe. Curling his dreamy lip into the most sensuous,
mind tingling, suggestive smile she had ever seen, she suddenly knew
the answer she waited to receive. He was going to pick up the seduction
he'd started in sleep. Good lord.

He moved his lips down to hers slowly, so unbearably slowly Emma
thought for the span of a single heartbeat, that she would die from want.
Sean's lips were velvety soft and tender as they finally made unhurried
contact with hers, barely brushing her mouth with delicate whisper
kisses. Far too many months of frustrated tension should not be dissolved
like this, Emma remotely considered, kiss by deliciously slow kiss. In
the end, she found she was caught in the spider's stratagem of his sensual
web, trapped to do little except melt into the soft, enticing sensations 
he was creating with his lips alone.

Sean let loose a smug smile of his own as he gauged her reaction to the
invitation -- perfect. It was exactly how he intended to tease her, just 
as mercilessly as she had in that space between sleep and waking. He was
only going to get one chance at this, one chance to seduce her as
magically as she had him. He had to get it just right.

Where had Sean learned this type of erotic seduction? The thought was
barely in Emma's mind for a nanosecond before she was overtaken by
another sensual round of teasing. His sweet mouth made its way down
the hollow of her throat, searing her skin with hot kisses. She shivered
involuntarily as she felt his lips move up her neck to an exquisitely
sensitive spot behind her ear. His teasing kisses and swirling licks 
still ran at an unbearably slow pace. Truly, she was getting her payback.
Time slowed to a standstill as she held her breath, waiting for each kiss
while gripping handfuls of his shirt as he drove her nearly insane.

*His shirt.* This man was way too overdressed, she considered as she
followed ahead the path their actions were sure to take. With a fierce
desire to touch his heated skin with her own bare hands, Emma deftly
slipped her way under his jersey and up his back, reveling in the feel of
his body just under the thin material of the jersey he was wearing.
Leaning forward again she pressed against the warm skin of his back.
Watching his eyes carefully, she could see that wonder had made him
radiant, a slight flush warming his skin, the rich emerald of his eyes
swimming in her gaze. She lightly traced the smooth skin of his
shoulders, broad and solid, the muscles hard beneath her hands.

"Emma, are ye undressin' me?" Sean teased.

She looked up at him, her hands still underneath the cloth. "The thought
has crossed my mind," she smoothly replied.

Without further thought, she started to lift the hem of the jersey. Sean
allowed her to slide his shirt off of him, watching her in the faint 
light take in the sight of him -- broad muscles and aquiline abdomen. He
chuckled a little at her appreciative murmur, but before she could scale
the length of his torso with her hands, he caught them in one of his own.

"Only if'n I return th' favor." He slid his hands slowly over the silk
pajama top and lightly brushed her nipples, sending a shiver through her
he could feel.

Before she knew it, Sean reached out and slowly undid each of the top's
buttons. Emma found herself waiting with bating breath for the touch of
his bare hands on her skin. But Sean obviously thought it best to tease,
avoiding the hardened tips of her breasts while moving his hands to her
open collar. He slid the silky fabric off her shoulders, letting it fall
under the covers somewhere as he took in the sight of her, his mind reeling.

Saints, she had the most perfect breasts he'd ever seen. No, they weren't
the model type Hank and the others liked to talk about, but that wasn't
what he wanted. He wanted Emma, with her moderate cleavage,
translucent white and perfect before him. His hands shifted of their own
accord from her back to her shoulders, seeming small and fragile in his
grasp, and then to her breasts. A tiny sound of extreme pleasure escaped
her as he finally teased them gently, fingers on skin, palm on velvet.

He couldn't keep this up much longer. The taunt, trim body next to him,
the smooth, sleek skin beneath his hands, the way she sighed when he hit
a particularly sensitive spot, all these things were driving him beyond his
careful control. He pulled her against him and after kissing deeply,
drinking in the other's soul and savoring each taste and sensation, he
whispered in her ear: "What do ye want, Emma......tell me what ye want..."

She caught her breath, "I want..."

At once words which usually came with ease seemed to be stuck. Was
this really happening? Was he here with her in the motel from hell? A
slight brush of his hand against her right breast confirmed the reality of
the situation. This was it -- what she'd wanted, what she was afraid to
look for and find. The moment of truth. All at once there seemed to be an
overabundance of saliva in her mouth; she swallowed hard. This was not
like her.

He willed her to continue, his hot breath teasing the soft skin of her ear:
"....tell me..."

"..I..."

His whisper intensified, making his accent sound like sandpaper on silk
"....say it...."

"...I want you to make love to me..."

He exhaled sharply and tightened his hold on her as she repeated with
more confidence in his ear "...make love to me, Sean..." And then she
kissed him with such intensity, it took his breath away.

She wanted him. *Him.* And god knew he had never wanted anyone
this badly in his entire life. He wanted her with every fiber of his being.
He wanted all of her: her heart, her mind, and her body. He buried his
face in her neck, reveling in the thought. His breathing was heavy and
uneven as he whispered back, "I want ye... God I want ye..."

Their lips met again in another fierce kiss, tongues entwining in that
ancient dance of lovers. Not wanting to waste another moment, Emma
continued her sensual exploration of him from before. Finding the firm
muscles she'd abandoned before she took off his shirt, she placed her
palms against the flat muscles of his stomach and then slid them up his
chest, teasingly running her fingers through his crisp chest hair as she 
did so. Ah -- she had so many delicious things to do to him later on...

And then the thought hit her with the force of a small atomic bomb --
even through the erotic fog their foreplay had led her into. She couldn't
do those things -- she didn't have her telepathic power. *Oh, it was
alright, wasn't it?* One small corner of her mind argued. She wanted
him more fiercely than she'd ever wanted anyone. *There, concentrate
on the perfect feel of his hand, teasing and stoking...*

But the unwanted thought took control of her before she could stop it.
*This...this.. didn't feel right. It wasn't right...without feeling his
feelings, luxuriating in the gentle presence of him in the back of her
mind. She couldn't do this without sharing in the feeling of it with him.*

The panicked thought gained momentum of its own and before she knew
it, she let out an anguished, muted cry against his neck and pulled away.
Hot tears, also unbidden, as all of this was, fell suddenly down her
cheeks. Feeling too ashamed to face him, where he no doubt sat on the
bed now hurt and confused, she turned away, taking solace in the veil her
bobbed hair made while trying to focus her thoughts enough to explain.

He watched her face in the dim light of the room, trying to make out
what it was that had made her stop in panic. Was she having second
thoughts, Sean mutely wondered. If that were the case, could they turn
back from all of this and pretend like it didn't happen? Before he could
voice his concerns, he heard her speak up.

"Oh -- there's so much I could make you feel right now ... Do you
remember when I once told you I have a whole list of things I could do
to impress you ... I .." Emma's quiet, vulnerable voice, a voice he
couldn't ever recall hearing, faltered lightly with her rapidly failing
emotional control. ".. I .. could have done those things now.. with you.
. if I had my powers..." Her voice trailed off with a sadness that made
Sean's heart break into two. And before he could stop her, she turned
away from him on the bed and curled up in the blankets, a small bundle
in the night.

Reaching out with a steady hand, Sean began to absentmindedly run a
hand through her hair, trying to reassure her with his confidence. In all
the time since the psi war had stripped her of her abilities -- he'd never
fully stopped to consider just how great a loss it truly was to Emma.
Sure, a telepath's powers were a part of daily life, effecting every second
of the day in a way his own sonic abilities couldn't compare to. Still, he
hadn't realized that it reached so intricately far into the fabric of a
telepath's very soul.

Almost as if she could read his thoughts, Emma continued her quiet
monologue from her curled up position on the bed. "In all the time I've
been an adult, I've only known myself as a sexual being through the lens
of a telepath. I've never made love to someone without being connected
to their senses and their mind... I .. I don't know myself this way."

He'd never seen her more vulnerable or frightened, and he paused for 
a minute to consider that the small bundle on the bed next to him was
Emma Frost laid bare, stripped of every fatade and bravado, just the raw,
fragile, very human inner self she kept hidden to everyone -- everyone
except him now.

The implicit trust that accompanied this revealing of herself wasn't 
lost on him either. Here, he was experiencing something no one had ever
been privy too -- and that she would trust him with her very self. He
doubted he would ever get over the awe he felt at the gift.

"Emma," Sean found his voice, "Ye may not be connected to me mind,
but ye have something ye may not even be aware of." He paused to let
the soft words sink in before continuing. "Ye have a connection to me
heart. That's all we need here tonight."

Reaching out, he gently nudged her to sit up and then gathered up her
quiet form in his arms and held her tight, as if to never let go. When he
finally felt her relax against him, he leaned back and gathered up her 
face in his hands. Slowly, he placed soft, tender kisses along her face,
covering first her eyelids, her forehead and then her cheeks.

"Before we came into our powers, ye were a woman and I was a man.
'Tis the woman I want to love tonight, Emma Grace Frost, nae th'
telepath. If'n you'll have me."

His words, soft and gentle, reached into her soul like a whispy summer
breeze, warming the chilled remaining parts of her heart, wiping away
her doubts and fear. He loved her, and more importantly, he accepted the
trust and responsibility that came along with the gift of her heart. She'd
found love, *here* in the sad excuse of a motel, with its Rob-and-Laura-
Petrie furniture and glitter, spackled ceiling and robin eggs' blue
curtains. It wasn't how she imagined it would be. But then, years ago
she couldn't have imagined it at all. She, loving someone, a member of
the X Men yet -- trusting another with her heart, her soul, herself --
something she swore after the sanitarium she would never truly do. What
had she done to be blessed with a man like this? She didn't know, but
even as she felt her heart swell with love and gratitude, she knew she'd
try and live up to the gift everyday hereafter.

"Sean." Her lips formed a quiet prayer with his name. He watched her
with heavily-lidded eyes, lulled into a state of bliss at just the thought
of
being here with her. To her, he was a study in quiet anticipation, his eyes
shining as he held her fast with his gaze, watching every move.

Before her quicksilver thoughts could further evolve, she was caught up
again in Sean's arms, held fast like a lifeline. And so she was, and he to
her. The relief alone of finally letting her pent up feelings for his man,
and about her powers, out was almost enough for her. Almost. What she
wanted most now was action, not thought, the time for that had long
passed. They'd wasted enough time, with far too many
miscommunications. If he didn't know already, she wanted Sean to
understand tonight exactly how much she loved him, and how very badly
she needed him right now, raw hunger requiring satisfaction.

She reached out to gently cup his face between her hands, and then
aggressively initiated an open mouthed kiss. She could do this, she
encouraged herself, just be a woman here with him, loving him. She
found that her desire to show him how much she loved him, how grateful
she was for his understanding, soon outweighed her earlier hesitation,
and with renewed confidence, she doubled the efforts of her kiss.

In reply, Sean let out a low, silvery moan, his hands now buried in her
hair. Thrilling at the idea of having his full attention, Emma felt her own
pulse quicken with the possibilities. The seduction had begun, only this
time, it would be no slow, primal, ancient dance. She felt hot, greedy --
she wanted all of him, and she wanted it now.

Moving back from their kiss reluctantly, her own head reeling with
desire, she heard him whisper as he leaned down to her ear. "Someone
wants t'play dangerously tonight...don't they?..." She looked up to see
a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Tha' was nae compared t'what I'm gonna
do to ye tonight...ye haven't seen anythin' yet."

Emma felt her eyes go unfocused at the words, her body instantly
rushing with adrenaline at the picture the words painted. Ultimatum set,
he moved his lips to hers and fiercely took her lips. This was not the 
soft first kiss they'd shared moments before. The savagery with which he
attacked her mouth inflamed her hunger for him. Their tongues swirled
and danced, attacked and thrust. She found she could not break contact
with his glorious, savage mouth.

With a shocked thought, Emma realized she was moving slowly against him 
in a futile attempt to get still closer to his body. Sean, she noted, had
tightened his grip around her as well, his gentle hands roaming fully now
over her bare back, mirroring the movement of his lips. After a few
more moments like this, letting their lips and hands have full range over
one another, she found she could take no more of the blissfully
tormenting foreplay.

"Love me, Sean." Her gentle supplication, issued from her kiss-swollen
lips like a holy prayer. In truth, they were far beyond words -- they were
pure sensation, gentle touch, and sensual movement. Part of her, though,
wanted to hear the simple but powerful words out loud, as if speaking the
desires of her heart could transform them any faster into solid reality.

Sean whispered his response with a low voice in her ear, "Emma." He
spoke in deep, intimate tones, rough and smooth, the accented words
tinged with an edge of raw passion she could not wait to explore. And
then once again, he sealed the force of her name with a hot-searing kiss,
the heat of his tongue enrapturing her mouth, eliciting from her a low,
quiet moan.

Watching him in the dim light of the room, Emma noted that Sean's face
was a study of mounting desire and rapidly falling control -- a
combination which on him only heightened to increase his criminally
good looks. Emma found herself breathing quickly as well, anticipation
unabashedly written over her face.

She let her lips join his for another round of sparing -- jab and parry,
forward and retreat, a different form of dueling. She let her hands roam
freely over her lover's bare chest, boldly stroking. Lover. She liked the
sound of that. She'd never had a lover like this before -- an equal, a soul
mate. Already she was discovering that Sean was a gentle but intensely
passionate lover, quick to learn exactly what she liked and more than
willing to see that she got it. For the hundredth time tonight, she cursed
herself for having waited this long to let her feelings show. With a silent
vow, she promised that she would make up for lost time, beginning with
tonight.

They reached a point at which the last barriers of their clothing became
unthinkable. With swift, sure hands and tender kisses, she peeled the rest
of his clothes away in layers. Here, she was the seductress, a nocturnal
goddess, reveling and awed by her power over him. And at last, when he
was bare to her -- soul and body -- she let her gaze linger over her hard
won prize.

Sean was truly magnificent, the sleek muscles of his chest and legs and the 
narrow incline of his hips wrapped in warm, golden skin. Watching him slowly
in the dim shadows of the room, she found she couldn't tear herself away
from drinking in the sight of him. Reaching out from her position above
him, she placed one small hand on his chest, feeling his pounding
heartbeat while she cradled his face with the other -- leaning in to give
him yet another soul-searing kiss.

In one quick, swift movement, the room spun as Sean smoothly twisted
her under his long, lean form. A smile played over his lips as he took in
their reversed positions. "Turn about is fair play -- Emma." She let out 
a delighted smile at his playful comment. God, how she loved this man.

Using his strong hands, Sean began to unwrap the gift that she offered,
the gift of herself. With each movement, each tingling sensation as her
bare flesh encountered the cool air, she felt herself opening up to him,
like a bud unfolding its petals. The last of her pajamas shimmered to the
floor in a rustling pool, and she caught his eyes go wide as he drank her
in. In the dim light of the room, her pale, bare skin looked almost
translucent, giving the moment a surreal, sacred air. Even having seen a
good deal of her body over time at the school, nothing could compare to
seeing her bare to him body and soul right now.

His assault on her lips began anew and within moments, he had moved
his seeking mouth along the hypersensitive skin of her neck once again.
Not content to make her shiver and moan uncontrollably by those actions
alone, and the feel of his bare, warm skin on her own, Sean bent down to
trace his tongue along the dip between her breasts and leisurely
encircled, teasing her even further.

Pushing her gently back down on the mattress, Sean renewed his efforts
four-fold, raining hot kisses on her neck, her shoulders, her breasts...
where ever he could reach. Along her thigh, she could feel him hotly
sliding against her in increasing tempos, rocking back and forth with a
delicious friction that made her want to scream.

After a while, his long, delicate fingers followed the heated trail of his
tongue, drawing long circles around both breasts. Caught in the trance
her partner had emerged her in, Emma waited with bated breath for his
mouth to return -- and when it did he suckled gently yet urgently, settling
in snuggly against her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him
close to her, sweetly aroused by the sensations and the position he was
now in. In response to his movements, she was an erotic madonna,
offering nourishment for the soul and satisfaction for desire.

Moving up slowly, he lowered his face back to hers and lightly brushed
his lips against her own again and again, until she finally captured them
and drank him in. In that instant, he moved within her, one swift thrust,
filling her with total completeness. The sensation was beyond thought or
description for them both, and Emma caught herself breathe a low "oh."
The sound of his own ephemeral sigh joined hers as their lips still clung
to one another. Sean slowly moved his mouth over her cheek, her eyes,
down to her throat, where he lingered to suck at her throbbing pulse. He
did not move, content to make this moment of their union last as long as
possible.

Then keeping his eyes focused on her in a way Emma found captivating
beyond belief, Sean slowly began a gentle rhythm, rocking softly as he
watched just which movement took her closest to the edge. Emma
discovered she was an apt pupil to his administrations and quickly
responded, listening to her own sighs as if they were somewhere far
away.

After the span of several heartbeats, Emma began to clinch her inner
muscles around him, twisting her own smooth motions counterclockwise
to his -- like a variation on a theme in music, echoing and
complementing. Here was at least one little trick she didn't need her
powers to accomplish. The sensation resulted in a low, fierce growl from
deep in Sean's throat, and she silently thrilled to the idea she could make
him that aroused.

"Ye... feel so good..." he gasped between movements. "Do ye know how
long I've wanted..." Sean's voice trailed off, adrift in the heady
sensations they shared. His meaning, though, wasn't lost on Emma.
She'd wanted to share this with him for far longer than she would have
admitted days ago. The full feeling of him in her, his low groans in her
ear...she was so close...

They rushed head long into the abyss, their tempo at a maddening pace,
frenzied and fierce. She heard Sean murmur her name over and over, like
a chanted mantra, and her own breath came in short gasps, racing toward
the edge.

"Sean. " His name was little more than a breath on her lips. "Sean ...
don't hold back...."

She wanted more. Even at their fierce pace, she wanted to go faster,
taking Sean to the very edge of conscious sensation and primal lust.

"Emma .." It was more of a savage growl than a word. She felt herself
flutter and tighten around him and after one last deep thrust, she let go in
a burst of grateful joy, followed immediately by Sean. In that moment,
she was caught beyond time -- she was pure sensation and bliss, existing
in him, and he in her in a way she hadn't thought possible without
telepathy.

Emma floated back to reality slowly, like a light feather on the wind,
feeling totally complete of body and spirit. Reluctantly, Sean pulled
away, raining soft kisses, and she settled herself into the crook of his
arm, where they drifted into that contented place between sleep and
reality. The last sensation she had before the peaceful serenity of sleep
took her completely was the feel of Sean's lips on her forehead, giving
her a gentle kiss as he murmured softly, "I love ye Emma." In a child-
like, sleepy voice she couldn't ever remember using, she heard herself
reply, "...love you..."

****************************************

"Ye will never know how much I love ye."

She heard his voice whisper low in her ear, his warm breath sending a
sudden thrill through her, waking her fully. The words registered deep in
her soul, and she fought back the need to smile at them. Sean thought
she was still asleep, cocooned as she was with her eyes closed in the
warmth of his arms, her bare back to his muscled chest.

She was content for the moment to let him think she was asleep -- she
wanted to savor the plethora of sensations, right here in this quiet
moment; sensations she usually overlooked as a telepath in lieu of hazy
thoughts and emotions. More than anything, she felt his heart beat,
steady and strong, reverberating against her bare back. His head was
nestled beside hers on the pillow, sharing the space between her own
head and shoulders, with his warm breath still tickling the very sensitive
spot behind her ear. Even with her eyes closed, she could imagine how
he was wrapped around her as they laid -- clutching her with gentle hands
and strong arms, as if she were a sacred object or a holy vessel.

He was not all together correct in his statement, she silently considered.
In the quiet morning mist of her sleepy thoughts, she did understand
what she meant to him. She finally understood, still awe-struck at the
idea. She was his alpha and omega, his beginning and his end, shattering
his half-lived existence and completing his soul. She knew he was afraid
of losing her, now more than ever. She feared losing him as well.
Looking back, she didn't fully understand what she could acquire when
they'd surrendered to each other last night. Now she did. She felt those
empty places within her, places she wasn't aware of, filled now with
him. He *needed* her, a thought that brought her unexpected joy. No
one had ever needed her before. And she needed him -- he was
nourishment to her soul, the final missing piece.

She stirred herself from her sleepy contemplations, and slowly opened
her eyes. Behind her, she felt him respond to her movements. Reaching
out, she interlaced her fingers into his, gripping tightly.

"Sean." Her voice was warm and smiling, reassuring him that this was
what she wanted, what she needed. That she didn't regret this in these
early morning hours. That this was no mere one-night stand; for once
Emma Frost claimed something, it was hers forever.

Still resting his own cheek on hers, she felt his mouth curl up in a smile
of its own. "Emma," he whispered low again into her ear, and then she
felt a gentle, almost holy kiss on her neck. She shivered unexpectedly
with delight, and his arm went further across her chest and held her to
him, to warm her. But she didn't need it -- she felt warm, and loved.
She, Emma Frost, truly loved. For years she'd believed no one would
ever love her, or trust her, and that she couldn't take the risk of loving
another, even if she could find such a man...

She replied to him without words, softly kissing the tips of his fingers 
in her hand. She had never stopped to consider how wondrous his hands
could be -- these strong and gentle hands that devoted themselves to the
umpteen million things he did around the school. When fueled as they
were last night by his own fiery passion, his hands transformed into a
sensual vessel, conveying his desire without words.

Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, Sean withdrew his hands from her
grip and began to trace a leisurely path up her bare arm. He kept his
touch light and gentle, almost a whisper on her skin. She was still so
brand-new to his searching fingers, and he took delight even now in
learning every plane and curve of her being. Had the events of the
previous night really happened? Even now, he couldn't believe it. She
loved him too, she'd opened up her soul, and now he held the key. What
was he going to say to Moira, or his daughter, or the kids when they
finally figured it out? He didn't have a clue, and at the moment, it didn't
matter; he was content to just be here with her, warm and safe.

His fingers reached the junction of her shoulder, and then followed their
curved path down past her ribs and the gentle curve of her hips, as far as
his long arm could reach. Emma found herself holding her breath with
anticipation as he made his slow way back up, skimming the top of the
sheets that shrouded her lower half into mysterious folds and valleys. He
moved lightly over her inner leg and thigh, slowly taking his way back
up toward her face, purposely missing her most sensitive spots.

 "Tease," Emma murmured through her reawakening desire.

She heard Sean chuckle low in her ear, clearly loving the way she
responded now to his touch. Without pause, he assaulted her ear with a
sensual attack, swirling his warm tongue and nipping at her earlobe. She
let out a long sigh, from the bottom of her soul, and squirmed up against
him with ultimate delight, feeling as she did his own growing arousal.

Turning herself around quickly, still wrapped in his arms, she looked up
into his eyes. They are filled with the same deep emotions she was sure
were mirrored in her own. Behind their smiling, crinkling edges, she saw
deep, smoldering desire, joy and love. God, how did she get so lucky to
find this man?

As much as she didn't want to break the near sacred feel of the moment,
in the end, despite all that had happened, and all that she now felt, 
she still was the practical and organized Emma. In light of all that had
happened, some questions remained to be answered.

"Sean," she let her voice stay in the soft, warm mood even as her mind
shifted to more immediate concerns. "Where do you want to go from here?"

Sean had more immediate concerns of his own as well. "I thought we're
gonna fix th' car and drive t'Westchester." He punctuated the space
between words with small, airy kisses to the tender spot behind her ear.

Trying to ignore her own rising desire, Emma pushed forward with
determination. "No, silly, I mean with us...and the school ... and the
kids. How am I going to hide my good mood so they don't catch on?"

Sean, undeterred in his amorous efforts, took to swirling his tongue
slowly in her earlobe. That was sure to get her undivided attention. 
"Em, we have five hours o'drivin' to figure it all out." From her slow
squirming in front of him, he thought his efforts were paying off.
"Maybe ye can tell 'em ye were abducted while on th' trip?"

With a smile that betrayed her growing interest in the bedside activity
Sean was initiating, Emma sighed and said, "Abducted by a lusty
Irishman, that is...Now, come here..."

********End*********