by paxnirvana
Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Shadowcat/Shatterstar, Rictor Archive: Ask first.Author's Note: Rating for a little violence, some swearing and grown-up stuff, as well as a *liberal* dose of sex [yes, in this part!]. Due to my beta's pithy comments we get four parts rather than just three. [Thanks bunches K - you know who you are!] 7/17/01
Disclaimer: The main characters and most of the references in this story belong to Marvel Comics. The others don't. But all three of the mains are in CHARACTER LIMBO right now anyway, so they probably won't mind the action here.
* * * * *
I've never felt this way
About anyone or anything
Tell me...What do I have to do
To make you want me?
But if I can't make you want me
What do I have to do?
To forget about you. . .- Stabbing Westward
Part IV
To Shatterstar's relief, Shadowcat had returned to the hotel room finally with wide bandages for the worst of Julio's abrasions, salves for his bruises and medicines for his pain along with a selection of easy-to-eat foods and beverages. She'd also had the forethought to purchase Julio a new shirt and some other minor articles of clothing. As Julio had no clothing of his own save the ones he'd been captured in and their resources were slim still, he was quite grateful. They had to return to Mexico somehow. He felt the burden of debt they owed her weighing heavily on his thoughts. It was a point of honor, he told himself, and since Julio needed to recover it fell to him to repay her to the best of his abilities. It wasn't just that he was strangely reluctant to let his time with her end. How could it be? His best friend Julio was back and safe.
He had helped Julio out of the bath and into one of the unfortunately small beds in the room. Propping him up with all the pillows available. Settling him under the thankfully clean sheets with much relief but little real comfort before she returned. Julio was in more pain now, he could tell, his lips white with strain.
"Two King size beds my ass," he heard Kitty mutter under her breath, seeing Julio's lanky frame stretched diagonally across one short bed. She passed over the supplies with a cheerful grin however, showing Julio the cans of pudding and soft fruit she'd purchased for him with his sore mouth in mind. Julio grunted weary thanks, then protested weakly as he pushed aspirin on him. But his friend swallowed the medicine down anyway.
Then, before he was ready, she was moving toward the door, saying her goodbyes.
"You guys look like you can take care of yourselves now, right Julio?" she said, a tight little smile on her face. "I'd better get going. Keep the bracelets a while longer. No sense letting them track you on your way out of here."
"Shadowcat," he said, standing with the bag of medicines held uselessly in his hands, staring at her desperately. She turned to look at him, a neutral look on her face. He fumbled for something, anything to say to her to keep her there. But nothing came. Then he realized he didn't want their goodbye to take place in front of Julio. "May I take you to dinner? As a way to thank you for your help. We have enough for that now, I believe." He darted a quick look at Julio for confirmation, but didn't leave his attention there long enough to read his friend's dismayed expression.
"That's not necessary, 'Star," she said with a kind smile.
"It is a matter of honor to me," he said. "By my swords, I will not have you think me ungrateful. I know what helping me. . . us... might have cost you." And behind him Julio let his breath out on a heavy sigh.
"Give it up, Kitty," Julio said, his voice weary with pain. "Once he swears on his swords, it's serious. I need a good night's sleep anyway and he'll just sit up all night watching TV."
She glanced between the two of them for a moment, then her warm brown gaze locked with his own. "Okay, I'll be waiting downstairs," she said, nodding at Julio before she left the room. "Get better, Julio. Vaya con Dios."
"Yeah, you too, Kitty," Julio replied.
Then Shatterstar was left staring at the closed door, suddenly reluctant to turn and look into his best friend's eyes.
* * * * *
It was several minutes before he joined Shadowcat in the lobby. Then, in silence, they made their way outside. The sun had finally begun to dip below the mountains to the west, bringing the long northern-lattitude summer day to an end.
"My place isn't far from here. We can walk," she said quietly once they were standing on the sidewalk in the warm evening air. Strangely not meeting his gaze. "Your pack is still there, after all, and I'd like to change first."
"As you wish," he replied, following her down the street. The walk to her apartment seemed to take forever and pass too quickly, occurring as it did in a strangely tense silence.
She led him inside the building, up the stairs, down the hall. She paused in front of her door, shooting him an unreadable glance before unlocking the door and letting them both in.
"Do you have clean stuff in that pack?" she asked as she moved inside, greeting the ever-present Moe. The cat trailed her around, mewing plaintively for attention. He nodded.
"You can change in there," she said, waving at the bathroom, oddly subdued. He gathered up his pack and retreated to the bathroom, puzzled by her distracted behavior. After quickly washing his face in cold water, taking down and raking his hand through his ponytail before tying his hair back up again and digging a new tee shirt out of his pack, he was ready. The last thing he did was shrug back into his vest, feeling the reassuring presence of a single scabbard against his back. He was rarely comfortable without both his swords, but one was sufficent here.
When he emerged from the bathroom, she was nowhere to be seen. But the closet door on the far wall stood wide open. He could hear her voice coming from inside.
"Do you like these shoes, Moe?" she was saying, apparently speaking to the cat. He moved with his normal silence across the room to the doorway.
"Are you. . ." he started to ask, then froze with his hands locked on the door frame, staring at her. She had turned toward his voice from her place in the depths of the closet, her expression startled. The little gray and white cat sat by her feet blinking suspiciously at him. But it was the woman who had captured his attention. Shadowcat was only half dressed; low shoes on her feet, legs bare in deference to the warm night, and a sleeveless thigh length dress with little shell-like buttons all up the front hanging half-buttoned over her body. Small, bare high breasts pushed the fabric away from her chest, her hands caught below her waist still doing up buttons.
"I am. . . I did not mean. . ." he tried to apologize, meaning to turn and leave but he found himself taking a step toward her instead. The delicate line of shadow inside the dress fascinated him. He couldn't tear his gaze away.
"'Star," she said, her tone strangled. He looked up at her face, surprised to see a kind of fire in her eyes. She licked her lips nervously and let her hands fall to her sides. The dress gaped open even more, letting him see the pale side of a breast.
"Shadowcat. . . Kitty. . ." he tried, his throat dry. Then she turned toward him, taking a step closer as well. Her hands rose quickly toward him and, to his shock, he didn't react with a block or a guarding maneuver. Even though he'd seen her devastating skill in action only a few hours before. He wanted her to touch him. Her hands cupped his face as she stepped closer to him, her slim body suddenly warm and lithe against his own.
"Don't," was all she said, leaning up to give him a swift kiss. He froze in surprise, then carefully raised his own hands to touch her, settling one on her hip, the other spreading across her back. A trembling had started deep inside of him, confusing him. He'd never felt this way with Julio. That had always seemed like exercise, more familiar to him. This was different. What had caused this burning, consuming feeling inside him? All he wanted to do was touch her, look at her, explore her.
"You are beautiful," he said shyly. She laughed, surprising him.
"How can you say that after living in the same mansion as Domino and Betsy and Ororo? I've got nothing on them. . ." she said, looking down her slender body with a strange, bitter smile on her lips.
"I do not understand, for you are strong and subtle, like a fine blade . . ." he said with husky intensity, his eyes gleaming in the poor light as his gaze traveled over her. She sucked in a surprised breath, touched by his words, her pulse jumping.
"Like them skinny, huh?" she said, struggling to not be overwhelmed by him, but wanting him badly. He shook his head, long ponytail dancing in the shadows, his hands sliding up her back.
"No, I like you."
And the struggle was lost. She felt the attraction, the desire she'd been fighting for two days surge through her. And why not? He wanted her as well. The heavy bulge in his jeans clearly indicated that. As did the intent gleam in his eyes. "'Star," she said, pulling back slightly. "I don't think I'll need this dress after all. Will you take care of it for me?"
A ginger brow rose, but he released her, moving back enough so that he could comfortably reach the buttons on the front of her dress. She held herself still, curious as to just what he would do. Shatterstar gently lifted the fabric away from her heated body, deftly slipping buttons free as he concentrated on his task. Only when the last button was freed and the dress hung open over her did he touch her: a gentle glide of fingertips over her stomach; a hand sliding along the side of her waist to her ribs, under the loose dress; a tentative brush against the tender underside of her breast, sending a shockwave of desire through her body. She bit her lip, trying to suppress a moan, and failing miserably. His silver gaze snapped up to her face, concern large in his eyes and he pulled his hands away with almost guilty speed.
"Does that harm you? You are so soft. I'm not used. . . I do not wish to hurt you," he said anxiously. She shook her head lightly, letting her lids droop over her eyes, watching him from under her lashes with sultry heat. Her body swayed toward his, but he put his hands on her shoulders to keep her back.
"No, I like it." Her words eased his concern, but not his uncertainty.
"Will you teach me how to touch you?" he asked, looking eager but still faintly wary. "I would not wish to displease you."
"I don't think you can, 'Star, but yes, I'll teach you. . ." she purred, then leaned toward him, gaze locked on his chiseled mouth. Her lips met his, their touch like electricity, shocking through them both. He wrapped his arm around her, reacting to the instinctive urge for closeness. Nimble, urgent their mouths fused.
The opened dress hung from her shoulders like a cloak, and her nearly bare body pressed against his, the blazing heat of him searing her through the cotton shirt and leather vest that still separated them. She felt a shudder pass through him.
Her hands slid up his chest as he lifted her effortlessly high, his hands locked under her arms, around her back. Slender legs wrapped around his narrow waist, trembling arms about his neck, under the heavy tail of hair to draw him closer. She slid her tongue along the line of his lips as she drew back from him slowly, making a low sound of contentment deep in her throat. He tasted like some exotic spice, enticing and new.
"What would you have me do, little Shadowcat?" he murmured. She looked into his glowing silver eyes, lost for a moment in their molten depths. Trust and curiosity and a definite desire lurked there.
"Kiss me," she whispered. He obediently leaned toward her mouth again, but she put a hand quickly over his lips. Warm lips, clever and sensuous. His tongue darted out and caressed her fingers, startling her, thrilling her. He was a quick learner, too.
"Not there, not this time," she said, trembling at her own boldness. She'd never been so demanding before, content to let her only other lover sweep her along, bowing to his experience. But here, with this man, she was the experienced one. She lowered her hand slowly, sweeping it down across her own body, to her breasts and the hard, peaked nipples on top of them.
"Kiss me here," she said. His gaze had followed her hand, but at her words he glanced up at her in surprise.
"How?" he asked, mildly confused. She just smiled, trying to still the anticipation thrilling through her. But her body shivered lightly with waves of lust.
"Just try it," she said softly. "You'll figure it out."
He leaned down hesitantly, loosening his hold so he could tilt her body back. She linked her hands behind his neck to support herself, watching him. His breath feathered across the skin of her breast, making her shiver just as his lips touched her. Warm. Tentative. She moaned. He brought his mouth back again, lips opening on her, tongue darting out to taste her. She moaned again.
Encouraged by her sounds, he shifted lower, exploring her slowly. The tip of his nose brushed against her hard nipple and she gasped. He drew back slightly, then darted forward, his lips closing gently over the hard peak. She groaned deeply, her head tilting back, eyes closing, lips parting. He rolled the tight bud experimentally in his mouth, then his tongue stroked across the tip of it tantalizingly. Arrows of desire shot through her, straight to her center, making her shiver deeply. Her breasts had always been amazingly sensitive, and he seemed to know just what to do with them. Just who was teaching whom, she wondered as she groaned again, her fingers clenching tightly on his nape. Then he lifted his head to watch her.
"Julio likes that too," he said softly, almost in relief, as if gender could somehow preclude similar sensations. Her eyes flashed open in shock and she gave a bark of surprised laughter.
"'Star," she chuckled, struggling with amusement and mild outrage amid the urgent demands of desire. "It's bad form to compare lovers - especially in the middle of the act."
"I did not mean to compare," he said soberly, a shadow of concern crossing his face. "I am trying to learn - should I not draw on past experience?"
"By all means," she said, meeting his worried gaze and letting a teasing gleam enter her eyes. "But you don't have to mention names..."
"Ah," he said, understanding dawning. Then a tiny smile touched the edge of his mouth. "So I should not ask you about your prior lovers either?"
"Definitely not, bub," she said with a widening smile and a brief shake of her head. This was a first. He was teasing her. She grinned at him with delight, still trembling with desire. Oh, he was sweet.
"That is good, because I now have another use for my mouth..." he said, his voice lowering as his gaze swept over her, fixing on her bare chest. But instead of leaning over again, he lifted her effortlessly higher, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, bringing her breasts level with his face. Then he took her other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it deeply. Her hands slipped down to his shoulders; her fingers clenching tightly in the heavy muscle there as she threw her head back and cried out in delight.
The sharp motion made him take a step forward to keep them balanced. An outraged squall of feline pain came from the floor as his foot apparently landed on Moe's tail. He jerked back in alarm, but Kitty just glanced down without undue concern. The little cat glared at them, then licked at her tail with injured dignity.
"Better stay out of the way, Moe," she said absently to the indignant cat, her attention shifting immediately back to the man holding her as her tone lowered, "Better yet, we should move this to the bed." He smiled at her and obediently backed up out of the closet, uncannily aware of the obstacles around him. She stared deeply into his silver eyes, lost.
He let the edge of the low bed hit his calves, then sat slowly down, lowering her onto his lap, arms sliding tighter around her body. She drew a shaking breath, feeling the heat of him, the hard shape of him under her bottom. He leaned toward her, mouth sliding over her cheek, down her neck to the hollow of her shoulder.
Her fingers dug hard into the leather over his shoulders. In her way. The vest. She wanted to feel that creamy skin, touch the glorious body she'd seen far too much of over the last two days.
"Off, this has got to come off," she said as she brushed impatiently at his vest. He lifted his head, arms slipping away reluctantly. She tugged the vest down his arms, feeling the drag of the sword on his back. His weapon. His honor. Without any hesitation, he shrugged free of it, catching the vest and scabbard in his hand and placing them carefully on the floor beside the bed, silver gaze locked on her face. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her body trembling with wild need. She had to see him, touch him soon or she would go mad. Her hands were already busy with his shirt, tugging it free of his pants and drawing it up his chest.
"Kitty. . ." he said her name on a gasp as her hands skimmed over him. He was smooth and firm, with only a light dusting of hair on his chest, as she had already seen. She stared at him, mesmerized by the sight of her hands on him. Hard muscles flexed as he lifted his arms, pulling the shirt off over his head, and he gave his head a brisk shake to free the tail of his hair. Galvanized by that motion, she reared up, pressing hard on his chest, pushing him over onto the bed while his arms were still caught inside the shirt, trapping him, tumbling him beneath her as she crouched over him. In her peripheral vision she saw a fleeing streak of black fur as Larry hastily vacated the bed for a less disturbed location. But her cat's alarm wasn't important. She bit her lip in pained need as she stared down at Shatterstar hungrily. He was beautiful. And here - in her bed - at last.
Silver eyes flashed in response to the need in her gaze. His mouth opened again. To question, to beg, to protest, she didn't know or care. She dropped her own mouth over his; lips seeking, tongue searching. A low groan rumbled in his chest, and she felt it under her hands, through her thighs, the sensation sending a shockwave of desire through her body. She tore her mouth away, panting hard, and leaned back. Trembling hands dropped down to the top button of his jeans, tugging at it wildly. She barely felt it as he shifted under her, stripping his shirt the rest of the way free.
"Off, off... all of it," she groaned. "You've been driving me crazy for days. I want to see you again. . ." But his hands were tugging insistently at the dress still hanging off her own shoulders instead, drawing a sob from her throat as he pulled her hands briefly away from their goal in order to discard the offending fabric. Then his hands joined hers - strong wrists brushing against her inner thighs, slightly rough knuckles against the soaked fabric of her panties - as he worked the buttons with her, getting in the way. She felt like whimpering and might have; she was no longer certain which noises were her own.
"For days, Kitty?" he asked huskily. Was that a full-on tease? Astonished, she darted a look at his face and nodded, briefly caught by his molten silver gaze. Her hands froze, allowing him to tug the rest of the buttons free.
When her hands resumed their motion it was to feel silken skin over a hard length thrusting up from his jeans. No underwear, but she already knew that. And not alien, as she had already seen. No, not alien at all. Her eyes rolled then fluttered closed, her head tipped back and she groaned deeply in satisfaction as her hands closed around him, stroking him investigatively. An answering groan came from the man below her. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, a smile curving her lips in a decidely feline fashion.
"You are so beautiful," she sighed, gaze traveling over his face, his shoulders, his chest. And he was, like a classic sculpture, but warm and alive and so very touchable. As if Michaelangelo's David had come to life and crawled into her bed.
"You are the beautiful one," he said softly, his own gaze traveling over her in return, heated and delighted. "Like a flashing blade. . ."
"Mutual admiration aside," she said desperately, wanting to laugh and bite him all at the same time, but doing neither for the time being, "why aren't you naked yet?"
He met her gaze steadily, hands cupping her hips and flexing there warmly. He lowered his ginger brows and said quite soberly, "My boots."
That startled a short laugh from her and sent her heart tripping in her chest. So unexpectedly sweet! Then impatience took over and she slid off him and down to the floor between his knees. Her fingers tore at the buckle around the top of the first boot, tugging frantically at the laces below until she yanked it free. Then did the same for the other - tossing it aside as well. Revealing white socks that she also took the time to remove, vaguely surprised that he wore them. Sliding back up his jeans-clad legs, hands flexing against his heavy thighs, her half-lidded gaze locked with his. Their hands met at the waist of his jeans again, both trying to tug them away. Neither suceeded.
With a low murmur of exasperated amusement, his big hands closed around her hips again lifting her effortlessly aside. She tumbled down on the bed, lips parting on a gasp. He stood up and efficiently stripped his own jeans away, watching her the while. Her gaze flicked down between his legs then back up to his face. A delighted smile curled her lips and she reached toward him as he tossed the last article of clothing aside. A knee landed on the bed beside her and, grasping one of her hands, he allowed her to pull him down. Oh, why had she ever thought dark hair was sexy? She'd never look at red hair quite the same again. She surged up to meet him, mouth seeking. His free hand glided around her neck, holding her steady as they kissed greedily.
Shifting to the side, she slipped one leg around his knee, drawing him over her with the simple ploy of laying back. He followed her down, tongue stroking deep in her mouth, until his chest brushed her peaked nipples. Kissing he had mastered. She groaned into his throat, arms sliding around his smooth back, leg rising up the outside of his hard thigh. He slowly lowered his weight onto her, hesitant at first, but the tightening of her arms and her legs around him reassured him that he wasn't crushing her.
She twisted her mouth away finally to draw rapid, gasping breaths, looking into his bemused eyes. He framed her shoulders with his arms, his hands cradling her head, stroking her short hair back from her face as he stared into her eyes.
"Kitty, I am not sure what to do next," he said quietly, his expression uncertain. "I have only. . . "
She quickly put her fingers across his lips, cutting off whatever he'd been going to say.
"No comparisons," she scolded gently, then smiled, "and my panties have got to go." He looked down in surprise, lifting away from her to spot the serviceable white cotton still between them. The long tail of his hair fell across her shoulder and breast making her gasp. It felt like ragged silk, smooth and heavy. Then a warm hand, callused from handling weapons, but so very gentle, distracted her by trailing down her side and slipping under the elastic of her panties, tugging at them experimentally.
"We will have to move again," he sighed regretfully.
"Just rip 'em off," she suggested breathlessly, watching him and biting her lip at her boldness. He shot her a bemused look and instead pushed himself up, letting his other hand join the first. He stroked both hands down her hips, dragging the scrap of fabric along. He lifted her legs easily into the air until he could slip the panties free of first one foot, then the other, before tossing them aside. His gaze was riveted suddenly on the dark hair curling at the apex of her thighs. She shifted slightly under that intent look; amused, aroused, yet self-conscious all at once. He slowly lowered her legs again, fingers slipping down their smooth lengths until they met over the span of her pelvis. His breath puffed warm on her inner thigh as he examined her curiously.
"Uh, 'Star?" she said with a soft laugh. He didn't look up, but she felt gentle, curious fingers touch her carefully. She gasped and her eyes fluttered briefly closed.
"Images are no substitute for experience," he said quietly. And she thought his tentative touches would drive her mad. She squirmed under him, nails digging into his arms. He stroked her more firmly, exploring the wetness, the plump folds, the slick feel of her.
"'Star?" she moaned, tugging at his arms. Torture. He was torturing her. And she wanted him inside her so badly right then. "'Star, come up here. . . Gaveedra!"
His head lifted and she drowned for a moment in the wondering desire in his eyes.
"Is this really how it works for humans?" he asked. She laughed shortly and shook her head, tugging at his arms more insistently.
"Oh, yes, and for you too, buddy," she growled, charmed and frustrated and needy all at once. "Get up here." He relented, lowering himself over her as she guided him between her thighs.
She lay under him, finally, her body wracked with shudders, arms locked around his neck, bent knees cradling him. He was arched above her, his hard thighs between her own, his head lowered, looking down their entangled bodies. He was trembling with the effort of controlling himself, his hardness poised against her aching opening.
"I am too big," he whispered, voice catching. The molten silver gaze darted up to capture her gaze, "I will hurt you."
"No, no you won't," she gasped, desperate, her fingers digging into his shoulders, one arm sliding down to his waist. "I want you inside me, please, 'Star." She pressed down on his back as she lifted her hips, pushing herself against him. His eyes closed and he groaned deeply as she slipped over the head, slick and hot. Sensations like lightning, painful and charged shot through them both.
"Za's Vid!" he cursed, then his eyes flashed open and he stared desperately into her eyes. She smiled weakly back at him, then lunged up and kissed him, tangling one hand in his hair as her tongue delved deep into his mouth, his own tongue curling around hers in response. He held himself still as she pulsed her hips under his, frustrated by only being able to take a little bit of him inside her. She wanted all of him - his concern was driving her wild. She pulled back enough to speak, lifting her heavy lids with great effort.
"Please, 'Star," she groaned. "You want to. I want you to. I promise, you won't hurt me, please. . ."
"Kitty. . ." he moaned, stirred by her pleas, then covered her mouth with his own again. His hips flexed and he surged slowly inside her. She threw her head back, reluctantly breaking contact with his mouth, crying out helplessly. He paused, alarmed, and she almost shrieked, clawing at his back, hooking her legs around his hips trying to push him on. He lowered his head to her neck, his breath harsh and hot against her skin. Shaking, trembling, uncertain, he let her motions decide him, sliding forward a little more.
"Don't stop! Don't stop," she chanted, eyes tight, mouth open, tongue circling dry lips. He groaned in reply and all at once surged inside her, filling her deep, stretching her wide. Her breath stopped, her body clenching down tightly on the welcome invasion. He froze there, arms tense around her, mouth open against her throat, his harsh breath searing her. She gasped, hands sliding urgently over his back, his shoulders, his waist, savoring the feel of his fine skin under her hands, his firm body covering hers, his pulsing hardness deep inside of her.
"'Star," she breathed. "'Star! Oh, God!"
"You are all right?" he whispered, drawing back to search her face. "Have I hurt you?" She shook her head and moaned in reply, eyes fluttering open reluctantly. He was watching her with burning intensity, his gaze riveted on her tongue as she licked slowly at desperately parched lips.
He leaned down, lips nipping at first her bottom lip, then the top, his own tongue tracing the path hers had taken. She shivered, her body clenching down on him, her motion making him groan sharply, breath washing hot over her cheek.
"Move," she all but hissed, teeth clenched in mounting frustration. His mouth feathered across her cheek, down to her ear, pale red strands of his long hair tickling her neck. She surged under him again, sliding over him. He froze then, as if shocked.
"More? There is more?" he groaned into her ear. She wanted to laugh, but couldn't, her heart was racing too fast, her breath too precious. He was too precious.
"Yes, much more," she said, eyes heavy-lidded, hands stroking. "Move inside me, in and out." He flexed his hips even before she finished the words and a mingled groan erupted from them both. Hard sliding. Heat and pressure. This was new to him. She held him close, feeling the pulse of him, the slick motion. He hadn't done this before. He thrust deeper, harder, his motions becoming less coordinated. With anyone. Her heart thrilled while her body ached for a still-looming release and her pulse throbbed wildly in her ears.
"Kitty," he said, his tone desperate, his breathing harsh. "I - I'm going to. . ."
"Yes, 'Star, let go. I'm here," she groaned, feeling possessive and humbled and wanton, holding him close, knowing for certain now that this was his first experience with penetration, that she would make it good for him - that her own pleasure could come later, would come later. He froze suddenly after thrusting deep, and she felt the pulse inside, heard the startled groan of release as he shuddered above her. And to her own surprise, caught up in his delight, she went over as well, bright flashes of sensation shooting through her, pistoning her hips under his own, making him cry out in shocked pleasure as they fell into glory together.
* * * * *
He lay quietly beside her as she slept, fascinated by the delicate yet muscular line of her back. She was lightly built, almost like a Mojoworlder, but not as hardy. She had no inbred enhanced healing ability. And she had not been trained from childhood in combat as he had. It didn't seem to slow her down much, however, and her fighting skills had been perfected under the tutelage of one of the best - Wolverine. In battle she was to be respected, as he'd seen earlier. And she had a head for both strategy and espionage. But she was trying to give it all up in an effort to live a more normal life on this world. The concept puzzled him. Even after all the television he'd watched; or maybe because of it. Watching parodies of normal human life had not really taught him what that elusive something was that all his Earther teammates seemed to crave so much. Peace. He'd never known anything other than the life of battle and struggle he'd grown up with until he came to this world seeking help.
But there was peace here, lying beside her now.
He traced his hand down the delicate line of her spine to the gentle flare of her hips. She wasn't anything like his other lover at all. Julio was heavy muscle and familiar shapes and known reactions. Their pleasure had been with hands and mouths alone, like to like. But sex with Kitty had surprised him. Discovering the extreme, intimate differences between male and female had been an enlightening event. He had gathered little experience with women during Julio's attempts to help him adjust to this world by taking him 'nightclubbing', despite their frequent attraction to him. He had felt too different, too alien to the people of this world to risk any kind of intimacy with one of them. Casual sex had been even further beyond him. Julio's endless pursuit of it still caused him confusion.
But this had been different. This wasn't casual at all.
She moved slightly, her head turning toward him, her chin resting on her own shoulder. He stilled the motion of his hand, distressed that he'd disturbed her.
"Mmmmm. Don't stop. That feels good," she said in a husky voice, her eyes still closed.
"I woke you," he murmured, his hand flexing on her hip. Her skin felt like silk under his fingers, warm and smooth. And so delicate. Yet she was strong too. A strange dichotomy.
"'S'okay," she said softly, her dark eyes fluttering open. "I don't mind."
He bent over her, enchanted, and kissed her gently. Savoring the feel of her soft lips parting under his, her breath puffing into his mouth. She was all smooth rises and secret hollows. Different and fascinating and mysterious. He couldn't seem to stop himself from touching her, wanting her. The sexual drive he'd dismissed so casually to her before had found him.
She turned languidly and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down toward her, deepening the embrace, igniting his barely-slumbering desire.
"Do you..." he began, only to have her stop his voice with her mouth, pressed eager on his own. And he was lost in the feel of her under him, the scent of her, the heat of her skin.
"Don't waste time with talk," she whispered, her breath warm on his face. And he didn't.
* * * * *
Julio Richter lay alone in the dark and dingy hotel room, nursing his sore ribs with the aid of a now partially-empty bottle of rum. It was working much better than the aspirin. The desk clerk had been more than happy to get the bottle for him for an extra twenty bucks, despite his nominally underage status. Alone, he stared unseeingly at the water-stained cracks in the wall illuminated by the pale blue neon glow spilling through the curtains from the motel's sign outside. The motel was run down and tired, the fan on the air conditioner hissing and spitting as it ran. A dump. It's only claim to fame was that it was cheap. Beside him on the bed lay a sword hidden inside a black leather sheath. One of Shatterstar's precious swords. Left behind in the care of his friend. Not just to defend himself with, but because it would attract too much attention.
Because 'Star was with her. With Shadowcat.
Jealousy gnawed painfully at him. He supposed he deserved this punishment, this unintentional torture. They had saved him together, the little X-Man and his good friend. But the moment they'd appeared on the ship he had sensed some kind of attraction between them. He had hoped it was just a passing thing. An aberration brought on by working closely together to rescue him.
But then 'Star had shyly excused himself tonight. To say goodbye, was all he had said. For all the help she'd given him, he owed her a nice dinner out. All the while never quite meeting Julio's eyes.
Yeah, right. Dinner. He had no illusions about that. He doubted seriously that they would even make it out the door before crawling all over each other.
Julio sighed heavily, rolling his face into the pillow and feeling the pain and loss settle into his heart. He had only himself to blame, after all. He was the one who had pushed 'Star away. Afraid of the way he needed him. Afraid of the feelings inside himself. Afraid of carrying yet another label beside all the others: vigilante, Mexican, gunrunner, mutant. Adding 'faggot' to the list had seemed a little too much to bear. And he had never been entirely certain of 'Star's feelings. From the first his friend had scarcely known what sex was, much less seemed to understand the full implications of being gay or straight.
But Shatterstar knew loyalty. And he knew friendship. And he had believed the soft words Julio spoke to him in the night telling him it was all right, that this was just another part of their friendship, a more physical part. And maybe for the Mojoworlder that was truly all it had been. But not for Julio. For Julio it had been the first frightening steps toward love. Love of another man.
That was the real reason he had run from the team. Not from Cable - who made a handy excuse - but from Shatterstar himself. But leaving him behind had only tortured Julio with guilt and shame and incredible loneliness. When he had been unable to stay away a minute longer, tormented by his need, his love, then he'd returned. To tax the remains of their friendship by asking the displaced Mojoworlder to leave the team that had been the only family he had ever known. 'Star had come cheerfully, relieved and pleased that his friend had returned. It was only when Julio kept his distance both physically and emotionally, denying the depth of their relationship, that 'Star had closed down. Becoming confused and silent and brooding. And apparently now willing to look elsewhere for what once Julio alone had been able to provide; acceptance, understanding, caring.
He was a coward. And he had no one to blame but himself. Lifting the bottle to his mouth he swallowed another mouthful of the firey liquid, trying not to choke as it burned its way down his throat. Numbness followed it. If he finished the bottle, maybe the numbness would wipe out the pain in his heart. But it would never erase his regret. The running and denial and fear had cost him the one thing that Julio had come to realize was the most important thing of all - a chance to win Shatterstar's love.
* * * * *
Shatterstar sat in the window, looking out at the lightening early morning sky, absently stroking the purring creature nestled in his arms. Cats liked him, apparently. And he liked them.
Especially the human ones.
He looked fondly over at the disheveled bed, but due to the tumbled blankets could see only a single out-flung, slender arm, a bare foot and the top of a tousled brown head. She was sleeping deeply now, her breathing gentle and regular. She'd let her training slip, she'd joked once during the long night, - as he'd held her trembling, sweating form once more against his own, listening to her thundering pulse, her rasping breaths - and her endurance was way down. But then, he'd taxed even his own considerable stamina last night, loving her over and over again, pushing them both to the brink of collapse with his hunger for her. She had matched him every time until she finally fell into an exhausted slumber.
Still, sleep had eluded him.
Julio was waiting for him back at the hotel, he knew. He would have to leave soon. His heart was torn. He still loved his friend Julio, the first person to truly befriend him in this strange new world. But now, he was afraid, it was very likely that he loved the prickly Shadowcat as well. Kitty Pryde. The young woman running from everything that made them what they were. The woman who only wanted to be left alone to live a normal human life. The thought sent a flash of pain through his heart. It didn't leave much hope for a displaced Mojoworlder who didn't truly know the meaning of the word 'normal'.
A one night stand. The phrase had puzzled him before. How could humans risk so much on a single, ephemeral night of pleasure? Now, painfully, he understood it. At least how it applied to his situation. Sometimes, when it was all you were offered, you took what you could get. And were grateful.
* * * * *
Kitty Pryde leaned against the window frame staring into the street below, long after Shatterstar's tall form had disappeared from sight, as the pale light of morning faded into the harsh light of day. She clutched a rumpled sheet tightly around her bare body. Moe sat on the windowsill beside her, intently watching the birds sitting on the power lines outside through the screen, tail lashing with impotent fury. Larry, ever hopeful of attention, lay over one of her feet, a purring black lump.
Her body ached in several places. From the fighting earlier. And the loving. She wasn't sure if he'd let her sleep for more than an hour at a time, gently waking her to love her several times during the night. Like a kid with a new toy. Or a man discovering his secret desire.
They hadn't exchanged many words after he woke her the last time. He had just held her close, kissing her gently and stroking her hair. He had been hard and ready, again, but had refrained, maybe remembering an earlier comment she had reluctantly made about being sore. Healing factors were daunting things. His wasn't as advanced as Wolverine's but still considerable. And she didn't have one at all - it had scarcely mattered at the time, but she was paying for it now.
He had risen from the bed finally, gathering his things and dressing in silence while she watched from the illusory safety of the blankets. Trying without much success to slow the terrified pounding of her heart. And not certain exactly why she was so frightened in the first place.
Two days and two nights. That was all the time she had known him. She couldn't quite remember what her life had been like before his arrival. And now he was leaving.
To return to his friend and the daunting task they had set for themselves.
"Julio is waiting for me," he had said after efficiently tying back his long hair into its usual cascading tail, his silver eyes obscured by lowered ginger lashes.
"You'd better go then," she had found herself saying, sitting up in bed and self-consciously wrapping the sheet around her body. Why be shy now, she thought desperately but had been unable to let it fall. All night long he'd held her in his arms, stroked her skin, kissed and loved her until she had thought her mind and body wouldn't be able to endure any more, so great had been the pleasure and contentment they shared.
He had looked at her fully then. The dark red tattoo around his left eye giving him a shadowed, wary look in the pale morning light.
"I am glad you are my... friend, Kitty Pryde," he had said softly, his voice husky. "Thank you for helping me rescue Julio." She had forced herself to smile back despite the aching of her heart, the light-headed and confused feeling in her mind.
"I'm glad you're my friend too, Gaveedra," she had replied around a strange lump in her throat, unable to think of anything else to say to him, anything that she dared say to him, anything that she thought he would want to hear. He had turned and walked away, pausing a moment at the door, his hand on the knob, his back stiff, before unlocking it and leaving so abruptly that she had gasped in shock as the door closed solidly behind him.
She had listened to the sound of his purposeful footsteps fading away down the hallway, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
Gone. He had been gone just like that. And she was alone again, three cats notwithstanding.
Just like she'd wanted.
A tear slid slowly down her cheek, flashing brightly in the morning
light before slipping off and vanishing into the sheet, lost.
- - brief epilogue, one month later - -
To: julia.swenson@physics.uw.edu From: mojoboy7@hotmail.com Subject: The Three Stooges My friend tells me that the "jewelery" you let us keep should be delivered to you tomorrow. Our profound thanks for the loan. They ensured our departure was undisturbed. Did I tell you that I do like cats? I miss yours. Especially the cat that lived in the shadows. To: mojoboy7@hotmail.com From: julia.swenson@physics.uw.edu Subject: Re: The Three Stooges Thanks, but you could have kept them. They might have helped you guys in your "hazardous" line of work. The cats miss you too. Come visit them again if your work allows. And the shadowy cat as well.- - fin - -