my, dearest

The Baby Meme; part two

icecoldwit — Tue, 31 May 2011 19:12:35 GMT

Yes, again.

Give me one of your characters with one of my muses, (Emma, Rogue, Ophelia or Pyro) and I will tell you -- no matter how ridiculous the pairing -- the following about their first child;

A. Name
B. House
C. Circumstances of Conception (may become a drabble who knows)
D. PB
E. Three Random Facts

requests; response eleven

icecoldwit — Thu, 26 May 2011 13:59:46 GMT

Who: Ethan Sykes, Jesse Dylan, Mackenzie Richards
Where: Medical Center
What: Mac being slightly overprotective and Jesse just lapping it up. Ethan's not overly amused.

Rating: PG-13
For: Charlie who asked for 'Mac/Jesse' she did want them on a date, but eff that.

What Mac hated was getting called out in the middle of the night. When she'd just gotten ready to actually sleep and then getting called for something. So when Ethan pulled her up on the comms and told her she was needed at the Medical Center, she had thought it was a case of one of the floors losing power, or the heat going, or something stupid like that.

She had not been prepared to walk in, be directed to the second floor and herded into the ward, finding three members of the team going over the basic physicals and a curtain drawn around another. Ethan stood just at the end of the ward, beside the drawn curtain, glancing between Mayspring and Collins. Mac gave Worth a small nod before she headed towards Ethan.

"What's going on?" She'd already stopped being annoyed and was working on being worried, she didn't like just how Ethan was watching her, like she'd lose it or break something. "Ethan?"

"You know that we sent out a mission yesterday?" She did, she'd been told to expect a new humvee, possibly a little used and dented but good enough for spare parts, so she nodded for Ethan to carry on. "It got a little, complicated." Mac glanced to the closed curtains then back at Ethan. "Dylan was injured."

And that's all she needs to barge through the curtains. She and Jesse may not have discussed things, they weren't dating, they weren't fucking, they were just close and occasionally indulged in a little bit of kissing and groping and so far that was where they wanted to be. But he was still a kid, he wasn't completely trained, he so was not ready for the kind of ops that they were running with the mutant taskforce. Instead of finding him beaten or battered or bruised, Jesse is sitting up on the bed, a nurse stitching up a gash on the side of his arm.

"Are you mentally deficient?" She knew that later she'd be apologising to Ethan, especially since they were in front of nurse staff and Jesse. "Don't fucking scare me like that you asswipe." Ethan had snippets of Mac's life before she was assigned to his camp, he knew that her fiancé had died on a mission, he knew that he had been forces, and she was entitled to a small freak out when Ethan got serious like that over Jesse getting a bullet graze. "Fuck sake," she ignored the look from the nurse, taking a seat on the bed and running a hand down Jesse's uninjured arm. "Didn't anyone teach you to dodge?"

Jesse just grips her hand when it reaches his, pulling her in close. "I'm fine, honest. It's just a graze." And it was, she could see that, but it still scared her, at least Ethan had scared her.

"Well, you'd be even better if you weren't getting shot you idiot." The nurse gave them a small smile before taping a piece of gauze over Jesse's arm and leaving them. Mac just knocked her hastily shoved on boots back off and pulled her legs up onto the bed, curling against Jesse and pressing her face into his neck. "We're gonna run some drills later, babe. Your reflexes need work."

Ethan sort of excused himself quietly, and Mac made note to track him down when she was calmer and apologise. But right then she was more interested in staying wrapped with Jesse.

requests; response ten

icecoldwit — Thu, 26 May 2011 12:06:23 GMT

Who: Haylie Collins, Jane Worth, Jesse Dylan, Sarah Mayspring
Where: Mexico
What: A successful mission with a shitty exit plan, needs some fixing.

Rating: PG-13
For: Bri who asked for '"If I'm not back in five minutes... wait longer!"'

For once, everything had gone off without a hitch. Which was pretty impressive considering the fact that they had an unstable empath as part of the plan. They'd gotten into the facility fairly easy, made their way through the building to the lower halls where Ophelia had whammied the entire army waiting there until they'd pretty much collapsed from pain. Haylie fussed a little with the girl, after she went sheet white pale -which was just a little paler than her usual pale, but the little china doll waved it off. Jane's fairly certain she meant she'd just pushed her powers too hard but when she talked in riddles it was hard to keep up sometimes.

With the opposition out of it, the group headed towards the locked up station, Jane and Jesse using synchronised military access systems to break in. Once inside, it was a simple case of grabbing the canisters they were to take back to Dr Chandler for analysis. Haylie and Ophelia went to one side, Jesse and Jane took the other and in a matter of minutes they had their packs filled with the samples and they were ready to go.

"Okay?" Jane got the nod from the other three and they started out, walking past the room full of unconscious operatives as they went. Jane really didn't understand that, but he wasn't about to question it. Ophelia started to dawdle half way down the corridor, sparking Jesse to grab her wrist and tug her to keep up.

It wasn't until they got to the ground, about to cross the base when the explosion rocked them all just a little bit. "Wasn't that the humvee we were meant to steal?" The vehicle was already on fire, burning from the inside out. "Why did they blow up their own car?" Jane and Haylie crouched down behind one of the bunkers, Jesse keeping Ophelia down just a few feet away from them.

"I thought she took care of them all?" A glance around the edge of their cover informed Jane that these weren't the same operatives that Ophelia had taken out previously.

"Different team," and it made sense that there would be other people looking for whatever Sykes and Frost had sent them to pick up.

"We know where you are, buckos. How about you hand over the loot and no one gets hurt, eh?" The ground shook around them, and Ophelia started to stand up, some kind of worry in her eyes.

"No, Ophelia, it's not Rictor, Ophelia." The girl was almost all the way out of her cover before Jesse pulled her back, something zinging past them and Jesse crying out.

"Dylan?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just," there's a spark of blood already showing up on his green tee, his arm caught by whatever it was that went past them. Ophelia was wide eyed and staring and Jane really hoped she wasn't put off by blood or something, before he realised she could probably feel the pain from that since she was an empath.

"One last chance." There were a few more blasts, whatever it was the other team could do rocking the ground a little.

"Haylie, can you get a clear shot at the jeep?"

"What? Yeah? Why?" Jane shook the backpack off his shoulders, laying it on the ground beside Haylie's knees, taking a glance over at Jesse and Ophelia -Jesse didn't look too bad, and Ophelia was tearing strips from her own shirt to bandage around Jesse's arm while the kid muttered about homicidal mutant freaks. Jane wasn't about to take offence to the kids' pained ramblings and Ophelia didn't look like she was either, not by the way she just kept bandaging and petting and shushing him.

"Blow up the jeep, give me some cover. If I'm not back in five minutes..." if he wasn't back in five minutes, well, they'd be sitting there for a little while more, but he wasn't exactly sure how fast he could cross the base, "wait longer." It seemed like the best bet.

"What? Where are you going?" Jane just gave her a nod, indicating towards the jeep and she slipped around the side, pushing out whatever she did and blowing the jeep sky high, scattering the other group of mutants for enough time that Jane could cross around the far side of the bunkers.

He'd done enough covert instances, been on enough smash and grabs, stole enough from rival bases that he knew how to move, where to move and how fast to keep his pace. Hopefully Ophelia's little trick with the base operatives had worked and Haylie could keep the other mutants at bay long enough for Jane to get to the helipad.

They'd been instructed to take one of the humvees from the base, drive it across the border where Jesse and Jane's I.D would get them through fine, and then get to an air base in Arizona to get back to Washington. No one seemed to think that Customs and Border Control would question Ophelia's presence, but Jane wasn't so sure. Either way, the plan went bust when the other group blew their ride, which meant improvising and really, so long as Frost and Sykes got the samples they were here for, did it matter how they got home?

The helipad, it seemed, was a gold mine of HH-60 Pave Hawk's and frankly, Jane was completely okay with that. Realistically, Jane had no issue with stealing a helicopter, most people might, but they all had their standards, so it worked out in the end. Getting the chopper started and in the air, Jane was mindful of the burning wreck of the humvee as he directed the rotors downwards, scattering the other group and giving him the chance to hit ground.

Haylie didn't need telling, grabbing the packs and pulling Jesse and Ophelia towards the chopper. The packs were tossed in the back, Jesse and Ophelia climbing in and strapping up while Haylie took the passenger seat. With everyone on board, Jane got them off the ground and out of the way before they ended up shot down and dead.

"You stole a helicopter?" Haylie's voice is slightly distorted through the headset, and Jane can hear Ophelia in the back, talking Jesse through the rudimentary cleaning of his wound.

"Well, it was that or take the Jayhawk, and that really wouldn't have been too good for us." He just grinned though, because stolen or not, they were out of there, all in one piece -well, mostly, and mission completed.

requests; response nine

icecoldwit — Thu, 26 May 2011 11:10:19 GMT

Who: Wade Wilson
Where: Mess Hall
What: Unrepentant Wade is falsely repentant

Rating: PG-13
For: Bri who asked for '"I don't know! I don't know why I did it, I don't know why I enjoyed it, and I don't know why I'll do it again!"'

Standing in front of the everyone, shoulders slumped, Wade really can't be bothered with the farce that this is. Everyone is sitting around, some of them still on the tin foil from early when the whole mess half ended up wrapped in the stuff -and that had taken ages! Didn't these people appreciate the effort he put into these things? Sykes was standing at one end, glaring away, and even Emma seemed a little miffed, but that was probably the blue in her hair that did it -she'd been perfectly understanding about her office filled with rubber ducks two days ago.

"This is stupid." He just wanted to get that out there right now, but apparently, he had to apologise. "She's sleeping! She's not even listening to my heartfelt apology." And true enough, Richards was face down on her tin foil table, blue paint smeared on her face, out cold to the world.

"She just spent the last nine hours getting the dried paint out of the sprinkler system."

"It's water soluble, and not flammable, it's fine." Really, it wasn't like he was going to get anyone killed. Yet.

"It could clog the system and cause issues if there ever is a fire."

"Um, hello? You have a pyrokinetic on the team? If he's worth his salt he can just put it out or whatever." Wade seriously wasn't doing this, no way. They had to just buck up and shut up and if they didn't like it well...

"What the hell were you even thinking?"

It wasn't like he'd gone overboard. Rubber chickens in all the lockers of the training center, tin foil around everything in the mess hall, Emma's office filled with rubber ducks, Sykes' office filled with blow up dolls, Vaseline on all the door handles to the buildings, both the elevators filled with packing peanuts, the massive orange bouncy balls filling up the halls and then, well, then the blue paint in the sprinkler system which was apparently Sykes' breaking point.

Wade was the only person untouched by the paint. Ophelia seemed to be the only person who hadn't tried to wash it off and was grinning like a loon sitting on a table between Rictor and Martini who just looked bored. Angel looked somewhat annoyed, Haylie had this stupid disappointed look on her face, but Wade knew he'd be able to get her to laugh about it with one comment, Victor looked ridiculous and honestly, that was the whole point of it.

"I don't know! I don't know why I did it, I don't know why I enjoyed it, and I don't know why I'll do it again!" He heard Emma bite back a snort, caught the smirk on her face and really, he just crossed his arms over his chest, "That is all you're getting out of me."

At the very least, he'd put off the foam bombs for a week. Tops.

requests; response eight

icecoldwit — Thu, 26 May 2011 10:28:29 GMT

Who: Elisabeth Braddock, Ethan Sykes
Where: Training Center
What: Umm, Ethan and Betsy...'sparring'.

Rating: Hard R
For: Kaylee who asked for 'Betsy/Ethan -TURN THAT DRABBLE INTO A FUCKING FIC! NOW.' Anyone get that joke? (this is probably not as long as you wanted it, but stfu!)

Without a doubt, Elisabeth enjoyed the weekly battle of wills, even before that was what it became. It started out as a simple case of two combatants getting a work out. The burn of muscles afterwards was enough gratification to begin with. But somewhere along the line things changed. There was an attraction, Betsy knew that already, but neither of them were willing to act on it. But sparring, that was different.

The spark of pleasure that ran up her spine had nothing to do with being pinned to the mat and everything to do with the power above her. Betsy's skin tingled where his hands gripped and she had to bite back the moan of pleasure, lest she give the game away too early. That was what they had come to, beyond the training and the sparring lay a dangerous game that neither vocalised but both were far to interested in stopping. There were rules, unspoken rules which came with the game, and both understood them without ever having to say anything.

As he tried to get her into a submission hold, Betsy twisted her body, using her impressive flexibility to reverse their positions. She wasn't nearly as strong as he was but that just meant she had to use different tactics. His hand was still around her wrist, forcing her hand back down behind her, twisting her arm even as she locked one of her legs around his, her other leg over his hip for leverage. And then she pressed down.

She knew what she'd find, and that was why she did it. His intake of breath, even as his hips pressed up into the warm curve of her hip and leg, Betsy using her lower body to add pressure, twisting her hips down until she heard him groan. She got a point for that, the unbidden noise to prove her upper hand, more so that the hard length of his cock pressing against her hip. It was the satisfaction of hearing it that caused the distraction, not long, but long enough for him to pull her down and twist them again.

Betsy gets one hand in front of her to avoid her face hitting the mat, her other still twisted behind her back. Sykes gives her arm a slight twist, pushing his knees under her hips and spreading her over his thighs. The position pushes her down while pressing her crotch into his and Betsy can't help but grunt at the pleasure that pulses when he pushes his hips up into hers. His other hand plants on the mat right in front of her, changing the angle and he takes a slow roll of his hips, pushing against her and inducing a full body shudder. She knows that she's lost from that second on, the wide splay of her hips, the angle he's got to push up, it sparks pleasure at every move and Betsy bites he lip, pressing her cheek to the mat even as her hips push down to meet his.

"Okay, okay, I give." He releases her wrist without further delay and she understands then, he was moments away from conceding as well. She doesn't say it out loud though; her hand slipping beneath her work out shorts as his hand curls around her hip. She moans against the mat, mouth open and gasping as she works herself closer to the edge, Ethan rubbing against her through his own work out gear. They're growing bolder, needing more every time, they started out rubbing against each other but finishing in the showers, now, she's got her hand under her shorts and his is close to slipping in with it.

She gets there first, and he follows. It's just a game, but it's definitely mutually beneficial. No matter who gives in first.

requests; response seven

icecoldwit — Wed, 25 May 2011 21:31:44 GMT

Who: Jack Hendley, St John Allerdyce
Where: Unknown Enemy Compound
What: Botched mission (there's a lot of them) where Jack and Pyro don't try to kill each other.

Rating: R for Language
For: Shade who asked for 'Jack and Pyro manage to not kill each other in some situation that is more annoying than they find each other.'

"We should go this way."

"Ow."

"Quit bitching."

"Are you serious? You're gonna rip my arm off."

"Be an improvement."

"Oh yeah, you do that then, who's the one that get trigger the doors? Oh, that'd be me."

"I'll still have your arm."

"I'm pretty sure once it's been ripped off my shoulder, it will get cold."

"Lets test tha-"

Whatever Jack's about to say -and Pyro's pretty sure he can guess, gets caught and lost as the pair shift back, plastering against the wall to keep out of sight. It's getting ridiculous really, but it's not like they have much choice. They were on yet another mission, and later, St John would be bringing it up with whoever planned these things that he was never leaving base again. He hadn't ever been on a single mission that didn't get fucked up some how and he was so over it.

Now, now they were separated from the other two of their team -Polaris and Bolt were likely somewhere, unless Bolt had a heart attack or Polaris just beat him stupid, Pyro didn't really care too much. It did mean they were currently on their own, without Bradley to open all the doors, so Pyro had to overheat the displays on the doors and short out the system just to heave the doors open.

They were hoping to find the armoury soon. Or at least the exit.

As far as missions went, it was pretty much one clusterfuck after another. They arrived on site to a quiet base, easily snuck as per orders and then, well, somewhere between Bolt setting off an alarm and Polaris triggering the auto lock down, they went straight to hell. And hell was a cell block, with Jack attached to a cuff and chain, with Pyro on the other end of that. Which just pissed them both off to no end.

"Move kid, and keep your mouth shut." For once, Pyro didn't make the snappy retort, just shut up and moved down the metal lined hall with Jack until they reached a set of locked down doors. "C'mon then spaceheater."

"You know, things like that make me willing to get caught again." Even as he said it he was taking off the pathetically easy cover from the door and wrapping his hand around the computer board, trying to force his power out without a fire source overheated his skin, frying the components in the computer and shutting down the system so that they could pry the doors open.

"Yeah, you do that, they'll probably dissect you then and there." Every muscle in St John's arms protested at the strain of opening yet another ten tonne weight door, even with Jack helping, they only got so much space between their cuffed hands before they needed to use just the one arm and Pyro was seriously going to kick whoever planned this mission. Repeatedly.

"So long as they shoot you in the head first, I don't give a shit." Frankly, despite their utter loathing for each other, neither of them had actually worked up the ire to really let loose on the other. For one thing, they were cuffed together with little more than a foot of chain between them.

"I swear, if that little shit is sitting around, I'll knock his block in."

"Might want to wait until we're out of this place to do that." That was if Bolt could actually get them out without setting off another alarm. Or if he and Polaris were even still alive. They would be helpful all things considered. They at least had powers that could work without some equipment, where as St John was a 'some assembly required' sort of mutant. Which was probably why he was down to his cargos and his tee, bootless and jacketless and most definitely lighterless. Which pissed him off, because he had twelve of them. Overkill, maybe, but Jack was on the mission, so St John had been unwilling to take the chance.

"Left or right?"

"You're asking me?" They were in a corridor with two doors at either end and nothing else. It was pretty much a hit and miss sort of deal. "Left?"

"Right it is." Pyro just rolled his eyes, but let Jack tug him right once again removing the console and overheating the components before helping to tug open the doors. It's only after they get the doors open that they come face to face with two armed guards.

"Should've gone left." They don't get the chance to argue it though, not when Jack goes straight for one guard and his weapon and Pyro's left with his hand following Jack while the other guard raises his gun. He's pretty sure he's about to get shot again when the gun is yanked from his grip before swinging around and smacking his face.

The other guard drops as Jack smacks his head against the door frame and in the next second, Jack is turning, gun raised towards the far end of the corridor, pulling St John's wrist with him.

"Ow, seriously, stop yanking so much." It doesn't matter anyway, at the end of the hall -by the door Pyro suggested they use, Bolt and Polaris are standing, Polaris with that stupid sort of smug going on and Pyro just rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you're great, whatever. Can you get these off us now?" Since neither Bradley or Lorna have shackles, it's a pretty good bet that she can, so Pyro can hold back on anything he might say until she gets him and Jack unattached.

It's just a casual flick of her wrist and the metal flies apart, dropping to the ground with a clatter. Pyro isn't in the least bit subtle in rubbing his raw wrist, it hurts like a bitch and he's pretty certain he's lost a few layers of skin. Jack just gives him a side look, before nodding to the gun on the floor and turning around to walk down the corridor. St John just grabs the gun before following Jack, not really questioning it.

"Where are your shoes?" Bradley and Polaris catch up with them fairly quick, St John just looks at his feet before looking at Bradley.

"Probably the same place as his lighters." Pyro just shrugs as Jack answers the question. "You two must be able to get these doors open better than the kid." There's a hint of challenge in Jack's voice and Polaris is the one to rise to it, using her hands to indicate the doors shoved open and pushing power through them. If Pyro disliked her less, he might be impressed. "Good, now you had better have a way out for us."

And if Bolt knows what's good him that'd be a yes.

Write Off; battle five

icecoldwit — Tue, 24 May 2011 18:44:31 GMT

Who: Emma Frost
Where: Through time and space -really, it's Emma's psyche
What: Write off battle; prompt 'Death Cab for Cutie' - I Will Follow You Into The Dark
Rating: PG-13

The laughter carried over the courtyard, warm and light, something the Emma could almost forget. "Is there a reason we're here?" Boston in the fall was always pretty; bitter winds at times, but pretty. The trees turned the burnt orange and the petals fell from the blossoms so carelessly to litter the ground. She hadn't spent a fall in Boston in years though.

"Patience." She turned to glare, ignoring the stern look she got in return.

"I'm beginning to think you don't know me at all." She wasn't the patient sort, and she most certainly did not like being in the dark. But then, there was nothing but dark at that moment in time. Emma wasn't a creature used to the shadows, she didn't hide in them, she didn't skulk or move with them. She stepped out, she was seen, she was noticed. This was not who she was.

"Christian, come on, you're too slow!" Her attention is drawn back to the scene in front of her, out in the courtyard, the four children playing. She can recognise them without trouble, even with all the time that's passed and all attempts to shove the memories down.

"I'm coming Emmy, I'm coming." Dusting off his hat, tugging his scarf tighter, Christian pulled himself to his feet and chased after Emmy.

"He breaks his wrist later, falling over some stones. Adrienne will blame Cordelia, but really, he just tripped."

"You went to the hospital with him. Even though you hate them."

"Of course I did, he's my brother."

Everything swirls, almost like Vertigo was nearby and Emma closes her eyes to let the world around her fade away before things reform. It's not the house this time, they're outside, and Emma doesn't recognise it at first. "Where's this?"

"You remember." It's almost a command, which irritates her, but it does jog her memory.

"School." It doesn't take long for her to find what she's there to see. Two blondes, sitting on one of the benches, the girl with her legs drawn up to her chest pressed to the boys shoulder and sobbing quietly against him. "He never asked why. It was Adrienne, of course. Ian was fired and I was a foolish sixteen year old who thought the world was ending. He never asked why though, just held me and told me it would be okay."

"You believed him."

"He was usually right."

Once again, the scene changed, things fading out in a swirl of colour, leaking and mixing together. They stand in the middle of the grand room, three females sitting on a hideous couch with a balding, round man in front of them.

"You know, Renne has his colouring, she was always so paranoid that she'd develop his build. She had a gastric band inserted when she was twenty one." Emma snorts slightly as she walks over, her hand running over the top of Cordelia's shaved head. "Delia, on the other hand, was such a stick insect that Mother envied her own daughter. Then again, Mother was hardly sober enough to remember which of us were which."

"Bitter, Emma?"

"Desensitised, is more like it." She remembers this moment with crystal clarity, she can see the tear streaks on her own face. Father had just had Christian locked up, Adrienne was sure she'd be named the successor in light of Christian's 'condition'. "I wanted to kill her right then. I didn't care how. Right now, look, you can see it. I'm imagining how many ways I could use that letter opener to kill her."

Emma smirks at Adrienne's face as their Father once more names Emma his successor, his heir, his chosen daughter. "Sometimes I wonder, what would've happened if I hadn't walked away." But she rises, tells her father she doesn't want it and leaves, stunning her sisters, leaving her Father gaping like a fish.

"Why didn't you?"

"I would've actually killed her back then."

"Do the years after make any difference?"

"They did to Christian."

Everything starts to melt away this time, Emma sighing, exhausted and emotional. "Why are we doing this? It's my life, I was there. There isn't a lot I forget you know." The curse of telepathy, perhaps. Compartmentalising everything into neat little categories. It wasn't just reading other peoples minds, it was calling up every tiny detail of your own life too.

"You've forgotten the important things."

"Such as?"

"How did it feel? Losing Christian?"

"Like someone had ripped out my heart," it wasn't a secret, most people knew it. Emma loved her brother dearly, would go to war for him, would tear apart hell for him, would face the Phoenix for him. When he'd been sent away, it hurt more than she knew. "It was agony, it was pure desolation with no end in sight."

"That's when you started to harden. That's when you stopped letting people in."

"Because they wouldn't stay." They sort of flew through a few scenes from her life. Troy, Ian, Astrid. Shaw was a grinning face that taunted, but Emma couldn't resent him for it. "If anything, Sebastian Shaw was the one decent thing that came out of my college years."

"He turned you."

"I was already turned. He gave me a chance, the one opportunity, to get Christian back." She doesn't like the scene in front of her now. The cold blue of the walls, the harsh white of the steel doors. "It's like a prison, he should've never been through it."

For a moment, he huddles away from her, even as Emma leans down and takes off her coat, wrapping it around his shoulders. It's a careful sort of change, his body leaning into hers and melting against the familiarity of that. It's a broken sort of scene, and Emma feels the tear roll down her cheek looking at it.

"He wasn't the same. He didn't come out the way he was. They made him think he was wrong, like being gay was something they could fix. He never understood that I could relate. He never saw past the bars." They end up in a cemetery, one Emma can recognise without difficulty.

"You still put him with them."

"I didn't want to. I wanted him to have his own place, a special place. But it's a family plot, and he is family." There are four headstones in a row, information carefully etched on each. "I haven't spoken to Cordelia since we buried him."

"You haven't smiled since you buried him."

"There's nothing to smile about."

"Really?"

It's a tilt this time, a sharp turn that causes her to stumble, and then she's on Xavier's grounds. There's laughter again, Armor and Wolfsbane running along the gardens, Ororo descending to scold them gently for running through her rose bushes. Wolverine and Gambit are sharing a space on the patio, beer bottles in hand. Pixie and Jubilee are sunbathing, Rogue and Psylocke sparring, Dazzler and Beast with Iceman, keeping a score.

In the background she can see Scott, standing near the doors, watching everything carefully with a leaders eye.

"Are you sure there's nothing to smile about?"

"They're all going to die. Just like the others." She's buried far too many people, her mother and father were no real loss. Her students, her Hellions; Catseye, Tarot, Jetstream, Roulette, Cypher. She'd buried too many of her fledgling team, then Christian had come so soon after losing Katherine, regardless of their turbulent relationship.

"What about him? Don't you think he needs you?" Emma was foolish enough to think that she could stand there, by his side, to make the difference and lead them.

"He's still in love with your mother, dear. Nothing is likely to change that."

"So you'll add your name to the plot? You'll be the next addition the Frost Family Plot in Massachusetts?" It was highly undesirable, but extremely likely. "You're comatose, Emma. Not dead."

"I am aware of this," and she was. Every aspect of her state, she was aware of, the machines, the visitors, the attempts to reach her. She was in the bowels of this very mansion she stood before, being tended to by the careful dedication for Hank McCoy and Dr Nemesis. "Charles is decidedly persistent in his attempts to break the barriers."

"Why not break them yourself?"

"Because I'd rather remain here, numb and cold, than walk into another battle and lose another loved one." Escapism was hardly Emma's thing, but right then, she had a hollow where her heart once was, where everyone believed a stone sat, cold and unfeeling. After all, they wouldn't allow her to maintain her diamond form constantly.

"Then suit yourself." And everything faded again. She could sense that she was alone this time, that Cable had pulled out and left her be. It wasn't ideal, but Emma was fine. Sitting alone, in the cold, harsh metal of the Danger Room, staring at the walls she'd put up around her mind.

It was fine. She'd be fine. It was quiet, and Emma had always complained about not having enough time to enjoy the quiet. Now, she had all the time in the world. Something had snapped, something was broken that couldn't be fixed, not without Christian. She'd failed him, she'd promised never to let him go through anything alone, to always be there.

His first day of school, she'd been the one to take his hand and lead him inside, promising it would be okay. She'd been the one to stand beside him against bully's, she'd been the one he came to when he developed a crush on her boyfriend, she'd been the one he'd cried on when their Father blew his top after Adrienne exposed him.

She'd been the one to find him dead.

She'd be fine. It was cold, and quiet, and lonely. But she'd be fine.

requests; response six

icecoldwit — Thu, 19 May 2011 01:22:39 GMT

Who: Daken, a whole bunch of people [names in the tags]
Where: Here, there, everywhere
What: Daken, if allowed off the leash, and a look at the very naughty things he could do.

Rating: NC-17, very very very adult
Warning: Contains allusions to rape, dub-con, marking, bondage, blood play, rough sex, possessiveness, and sexual violence. Do Not Read if Squeemish.
For: Aimiee, who asked for 'Daken getting his creepy freak on with everyone possible. Not at the same time -although that'd be kinda cool. But just scenes from it. Creepy, creepy, stalkery psycho sex.' Darling, you are disturbed. ILY. ♥
Also, for Shade and Charlie, who gave me no peace.

Adrian:

The poor kid probably didn't even know what was going on. One second he's drying off in the locker room, the next he's pressed against the lockers, groaning against a tongue in his mouth that isn't his and grasping at strong shoulders. Daken doesn't care if the kid is green or not, if this is 'all so sudden' or if it's exactly what the boy needs. He's just worked up and blowing off the steam, too bad for the kid being in the wrong place -or the right one.

He does a quick prep job, not through any kind of concern, but he can't really afford to have to deal with Sykes' doubt right then, and really, it's more fun when they aren't crying. Most of the time. Turning Adrian around, pressing him into the lockers, Daken bites a nice big mark into the kids shoulder, grinning into it as the gasp and slight whine reaches his ears. The pheromones might start things up in the best way, but Daken can smell the boys arousal.

The slide in is smooth; steady and measured to avoid that annoying niggling doubt some people start to get, those protests that go ignored anyway. Adrian arches back, hands pressing to the lockers for leverage, his back curving as he pushes back to Daken, getting into the rhythm and staying with it. There's a grin on Daken's face as he picks it up, running a hand up the back of Adrian's neck, threading it into his hair and pulling his head back, exposing the long line of vulnerable throat.

It would take one movement, just the one and then the skin there would part and the blood would just flow. Growling, Daken leans in, biting along Adrian's throat sharply and with a jerk of the hips, the kid's lost, moaning and spilling over the lockers without a single touch to his cock. With a few brutal thrusts, Daken reaches peak, his hand running along Adrian's side before he clenches his teeth and releases the claws from his knuckles, scoring two lines along the kid's ribcage.

It's not the gasp, or the reflective clenching from the pain that sends Daken over, but the flaring scent of blood in the air and the feral groans and comes, hand tightening to painful levels in Adrian's hair as he does so.

There's no afterglow, no touchy-feely talking about stuff. Daken just pulls out, wipes off and pats the boys head like he's a pet before walking off. He's hungry, at least this time it's for food.

--

Alice:

The punch to the face makes him stagger, the swift sweep of a leg under his floors him and Daken barely gets his barrings back quick enough to avoid the mat beside his head exploding. He rolls to a crouch, glaring at the woman who has this ridiculous smirk on her face. Oh, he'd underestimated her, that was about to change.

And he was going to wipe that smirk off her face.

He pounces with a feign to the left, heading right at the last second. She only just swerves out of the way from the claw, her body twisting and ducking, moving fluid through the space left there. It's easy to twist it round, bring a left hook around that catches her shoulder, a knee up to her stomach, only she gets an ankle around his shin and rolls and they both end up down.

There's a scrabble for the upper hand, Alice gets it with another fist to his jaw, and fuck that woman needs to stop hitting his face. She gets enough of an opening to get the upper hand there out, straddling him and laying out the punches, and Daken reacts with a flare of movement, surging up and taking her with him, twisting and pinning her into the mat. With her legs still around his waist there isn't exactly much to stop her feeling just how hard he is; fighting does it, adrenaline and anticipation. The fact that winning does it for him, even when he hasn't won yet.

For a moment, she's stunned into inactivity, before her hands start to come up and Daken has learned to be wary of those. He grabs at her wrists, leaning forward and pinning her hands to the mat with his hands over hers, pressing his weight down to keep them there while rocking his hips up. Oh, but that feels good, pressing into that spread of her legs. It'd be so easy, easy to just rip off the sweats she's wearing for training, get himself free and then sink in. One hell of a pay off for all those punches to the jaw.

But he underestimates her again, and she rolls them, twisting her hips up into his and pushing her weight over -where the fuck did this woman come from- and he's about to mourn the loss of a good release, when she's sat atop him, likely to just sock him one again and walk away. He's debating how worthwhile it would be to chase her if she did. Instead, she hooks her feet under his thighs, pulling his legs apart a bit before grinding down onto him, rocking her hips forward onto him and, Christ he can smell her.

He's not put an ounce of his pheromones into it, but there she is, practically riding his cock through their clothes. He lets go of her hands, pretty sure she's not about to blow up his head with the way she's bucking into him, gripping her hips and pressing up harder, rubbing into her. God, this would be so much better without clothes; he wants to fuck her until she screams, until she's begging for it, until she stinks of want and arousal and need.

Her head dips and she groans, and the scent spikes, he can tell she's come just from the smell in the air and just one last press down of her hips and a push of him into that snug, hot curve between her legs and he's there too. The fact that he just came in his slacks doesn't bother him, he could go another round in a few minutes and fuck, that'd be good, pinning her down and fucking her for real. Actually hear her begging for it, knock her down a few fucking pegs.

She stands up though, her foot pressing into his chest and he just smirks up at her, like they didn't spend fifteen minutes beating each other and then the last five rubbing off. "Thanks, sweetheart." And she flicks her wrist to blow up another portion of the mat, right beside his hips before walking off. Forget fucking her, he's going to rip her throat out.

--

Emma:

If those bastards shot him just one more time with those stupid dart guns, he was going to ram one down their throats. And then pull the trigger. He was groggy, and disorientated, and confused as to just what the fuck was going on. He's in a cell, it's a small cell and he doesn't have a window, there's blood over the front of his shirt, and he's aware that it's his own because his side is still tingling from the healed wound.

The door creaks open, Daken staggered slightly as he shifts to get up and into a defensive stance before there's a blur of white and a body barrelling into his. His back hit the wall, hands moving to grip whatever -no, whoever, was just thrown at him. Scent told him it was Frost, and Daken held back the growl. "Little close, don't you think?"

"It would help, immensely, if you would pull back your fucking pheromones." He wasn't pushing them, he wasn't even using them at all. His hands found her waist either way, stroking along the flesh there, she never did wear much in the way of clothing, her uniform for missions was white skin tight leather pants and a fucking strip around her tits for Christ sake.

"I'm not doing anything." He was tired, and pissed off, and aching from head to toe. She didn't move away though, letting his hands trail over her ribs and around to her back, finger tips brushing along perfectly smooth, flawless skin. "Well, with the pheromones anyway." Even tired, and pissed off, he wasn't about to push a warm body away, even one as infuriating as Emma Frost.

"You are," her fingers pressed against the unhealed marks of where the darts hit, careful with pressure as she drew them along the line of his neck, "what did they hit you with?" The marks stung, it was irritating that they hadn't healed yet, but that was it, just an irritation.

"Darts." It should be strange, he should push her away, get angry, get out and kill something. Instead he's leaning back against the wall with her pressed along his front, the touches aren't rushed, he's not pushing towards anything. If he wanted to, he could fuck her. Mark her and make Victor see it, see just what he'd done. But he's not, and he doesn't know why.

"Drugs. If they just wanted you incapacitated they'd shoot you, you'd heal but it would give them enough time. Why drugs?" He gets the impression that she's not actually talking to him, from the way that she brushes her nose up his jaw, her breath ghosting along his throat. "They have plans for something, your powers aren't under control right now." He doesn't believe her, she's just guessing. He could make her angry, that would prove it. Except he doesn't, he tries but she just stays were she is, calm and docile. It's unnerving to have her calm and docile.

"What's going on?" She'd been outside, wherever they were, that was where the blood on her came from, surely. Smearing on her pants along her thigh, a graze above her hip where she'd rubbed against something or been hit. There's blood in the corner of her mouth though, he's willing to bet someone smacked her -she ran her mouth off just like anyone else, infuriated with her snark and her smart comments, no wonder someone smacked her, he wanted to smack her sometimes, he'd put money on Ethan wanting to smack her sometimes.

"We're going to be livid in the morning, pet. Rescues on it's way." Her lips brushed his cheek, her hand by the marks on his neck slipping around his shoulder while the other ran down his chest, along his ribs. Daken was trying to figure out just why this didn't feel sexual, where was the charge, where was the need, the arousal. Why in the hell was this -soothing? comforting?- so fucking innocent. "You, dearest, are fucked. Try not get shot when we're getting out of here, you probably won't heal."

"What?"

"I can hear your thoughts." It startled him enough that she moved back slightly, "Don't worry, I'm too blissed out to bother reading your mind."

"Blissed out, eh?"

"Your hands are on my butt and I'm perfectly content to just stand here while we're meant to be escaping. What does that tell you?"

Daken grinned, "I'm just that good." He didn't let her get the comment out though, pressing his mouth over hers and immensely pleased with himself when she practically melted into his body, mouth opening under the touch of his tongue.

You even think about marking me, and I'll rip your balls off.

--

Ethan:

Sometimes, Ethan liked to lie in. It didn't happen often, but he enjoyed the later rise on a Sunday purely because it was his one non-military indulgence morning. It meant staying in bed an extra half hour, taking a longer than usual shower and skipping his morning run. Few people knew about the difference in his schedule and he liked it that way, it meant he wasn't bothered.

What was even better, was the slow rise to consciousness rather than the sharp jolt from the alarm. The last vestiges of sleep lingered and the dream hung around, whispers of an enjoyable dream still playing behind his eyes. Ethan couldn't help but sigh, a sort of easy pleasure rolling through him. A warm, wet heat and...

Ethan's hips bucked up, pressing into the heat when he realised it wasn't the remnants of a dream, mouth falling open as he grunted slightly. A hand stroked along his thigh, fingers pressing against his muscles and making his legs shake, even as his hips rolled upwards again, pressing deep into a wet, tight throat.

The pooling lust in his gut told him all he needed to know. Daken. It was irrational that it made his hips jerk up again, a moan low in his throat as he met no resistance. Opening his eyes, finally letting the dream slip away completely, Ethan was met with the sight of a bobbing head under the sheet. He had the option of closing his eyes again and imagining anyone he wanted, or pushing the sheet aside and just go with it.

Daken moaned in the back of his throat, sending vibrations along Ethan's spine and that was that. Ethan's hand slid under the sheet, pushing it aside and gripping the back of Daken's neck, hips pressing up, "Fuck, yes." If anything Daken appeared to get a little more enthusiastic; throat tightening around Ethan, tongue laving along the underside, an addition to the suction around his cock.

With the warmth, the tightness of Daken's throat and the shaky jerks up into that heat, Ethan grunted, hand clenching on the back of Daken's neck as a warning. There was another rumble of a moan, Ethan's toes curling as the heat pooled in his gut and spiked, and Daken just lifted back to swallow down, throat milking Ethan through his orgasm.

Licking up the tip, drawing back slight, Daken smirked as Ethan lay back, spent and boneless, fingers stroking up the back of the ferals neck and into his hair. That smirk was still on Daken's face as he crawled over the bed, getting a raised eyebrow from Ethan until he leaned down, nipping lightly at Ethan's jaw before kissing him, tongue slipping past pliant lips and trailing through Ethan's mouth, licking another taste out of him.

"Rise and shine, Captain, we've got things to do today." And Daken clambered off the bed in a graceful leap, leaving Ethan with half his senses and a mild confusion. He was going to have to talk boundaries to the feral again.

--

Julio:

Ric's back slammed against the wall, back of his head hitting it with a dull thump before his front was covered, mouth caught in another kiss as hands attacked his belt and jeans. "Fuck," against every judgement in his mind, Rictor pressed into those hands, his own hands pulling at clothing to get to skin, "I hate you, so much. God." Ric's head thumped against the wall again, teeth biting along his throat painfully, hard enough to tear the skin, making Ric buck his hips and pull away. "Shit."

"You'll be begging for it, fucking pussy." Daken shoved Ric's jeans to the floor, stripping out of his own clothes in a flash and grabbing Ric by the hair, pulling him away from the wall into a violent kiss and pushing him towards the table in the room. With a bite to Ric's lip, piercing the skin and drawing blood, Daken twists away, pushing Ric over the table, pinning him there with a hand in the middle of his back. "You'll be fucking desperate for it," sliding a hand down, fingers teasing at the dip of Ric's ass, "split you open and fuck you 'til you scream, bitch."

Rictor felt his cheeks heat, arousal and embarrassment spiking in equal measures as Daken's fingers pressed teasingly at his hole. He was about to protest, because it was dry and that was not on, but his words left him in a gasp as his ass was spread and Daken's tongue licked over his hole, pressing against the muscle and pushing the tip inside. A ridiculous whine escaped him at the press of heat and wet inside, his hips pushing back for more while his open palms braced him on the table. Daken laughed, the sound tingling along Ric's spine as a long finger slid into him along with the tongue. "Dios," he had to bite on his knuckle, grunting as a second finger slid in, far too soon, the burn aching slightly.

"Fucking slut for it, aren't you." Ric heard a tear, his heart hammering in his chest as his hips rocked back on Daken's fingers, unable to make a remark past the moan and whine in this throat. Daken pressed in a third, slick finger, scissoring out for a stretch before withdrawing. Then there's the press of a blunt head, and Daken is half way inside Rictor before he even thinks to protest the lack of condom. "No, no. Just like this, having you all spread out, little whore. Come on, you fucking love it." Daken's hips pumped forward, thrusting all the way in, lighting Ric's nerves alight. Even with the added lube, it was tight and hot and fuck, Ric was aching for it.

"Bastard, shit," the pace built, hard and fast and deep, and Rictor couldn't move except to rock back onto each thrust, Daken gripping his hips tight, no doubt leaving bruises. Daken leans over, teeth biting at each knot of Ric's spine, leaving imprints and changing the angle, pressing in deep and hard and Rictor sees stars as his prostate is abused. Everything clenches as he curses up a storm, Daken catching Ric's stiff cock just before he orgasms, stroking him through it and only making Rictor hate him that much more. One hand in Ric's hair, Daken yanks him back, bending him at the spine in an awkward angle, his other hand, sticky with Ric's come pressed against his lips.

"Come on, princess." Ric parts his lips and two fingers slid in, mimicking Daken's thrusts as he fucks Ric's mouth and ass. "Oh, yeah, c'mon, lick them clean, that's it." Ric nipped at the pad on Daken's fingers, clenching his ass at the same time and Daken grunted as he came, pulling his fingers out of Ric's mouth. "Fuck."

Rictor lay sprawled out, ignoring the slightly ache in his hips as Daken pulled back, ignoring the cool feeling of come leaking from his ass, until Daken pressed into his back again, this time with his pants back on. "Was that so bad, princess?" A hand stroking through Rictor's hair, Daken leans back over him, biting into Ric's shoulder and sparking a hiss, before laying a mocking kiss on Ric's cheek and chuckling as he walked out.

--

Lorna:

"This is a really weird way of getting your own back." Not that Daken was complaining, not really. He was just pointing it out. He was surprisingly accommodating when he was shoved back, hitting the bed and sprawling over it.

"I'm a spoiled little princess, I get everything I want, and I want you to shut up and let me ride you." Tossing the last of her clothes to the floor, Lorna shifted to straddle him, picking up the condom from beside her and tearing it open. "It's calculated and catty, don't even pretend you're not on board with this." Her hand sheathing his erection with the condom squeezed just shy of too tight and Daken bared his teeth.

"There is far too much talking going on right now." Lorna answered him with a glare, tossing her hair over her shoulder and seating herself on his cock in one movement. "Fucking Christ," hands on her hips, Daken hissed through his nose, watching her rock herself on him, knees pressing into the bed by his hips before she found a rhythm, rising and falling and practically swallowing his cock.

"How many times, shit, did you say you could go?"

"Fucking loads, baby, fuck yeah." Sliding his hands up her torso, thumbs pressing into her ribs before cupping her breasts, Daken's hips press up into Lorna's pace, tilting his hips to catch just right. "Jesus, darling, fucking tight little bitch, ain't you." With a loud moan, Lorna clenched, back arching and a smirk on her face that he could appreciate for what it was, scorned woman out for vengeance.

"Harder, c'mon, harder." Grabbing her hips again, Daken twisted them, pushing her down under him and pulling her leg up.

"Oh, I'll give you harder." She managed a low chuckle before it stemmed off into a moan, his thumb rubbing over her clit as he slammed his hips forward, pushing into her with abandon as she flexed and arched upwards.

One thing was for sure, when Frost took a peek into Lorna' head, she'd see just what Lorna wanted.

--

Mac:

It was the alcohol, he knew, and she tasted like cheap beer and cheaper vodka, but her hand was in his pants before he even bothered to care and frankly, it wasn't his problem she was easy.

He expected a drunken blowjob, he expected her on her knees outside the bar. He didn't expect her to push him into the wall, open his pants to push them down his thighs while she was licking into his mouth, didn't expect the rough slide of her hand over his cock while she pulled back sucked two of her own fingers into her mouth before she pulled him back and turned him around.

He would have something to say about it, as her wet fingers pressed at his ass, her hand still stroking his cock in a slow, steady pace, thumb circling the head and flicking teasingly at the underside. Her fingers stroked inside him, pressing deep and nudging his prostate, her grip loosening just a little as he started to press back onto her fingers and buck forward to the grip, fucking her hand and then fucking himself on her fingers.

"Take you back to the garage," her lips brush his ear, a fleeting touch of her tongue as she licks her lips, her hand pressing another finger into his ass and her grip tightening, making his grunt and buck back. "Got all sorts of toys, pretty sure could wear you out. Fuck you good and proper, ride your face until you're aching and then let you fuck me until I'm sore, hmm?"

When she bit his earlobe, nudged her fingers up and dragged the thumb over the slit of his cock, he was gone, shoulders tense as he came against the wall, low groan in his throat. She stroked him through it, her fingers pulling out carefully, before she tucked him back into his pants and gave his cock a gentle pat. "C'mon, pet, I have plans for you."

Shit but that was better than a blowjob.

--

Rogue:

"Stop fuckin' around an' get me outta these." She tugged at the chains again, wrists twisting uselessly as her legs tried to pull up. The chains were made of some metal she couldn't break, but Daken they'd just thrown in a cell and after he'd dislocated both his shoulders, he'd managed to slip through the bars before knocking his shoulders back in place.

"This is," he stood right in front of her, finger tapping on his chin, "intriguing." She tugged again, almost wanting to kick him in the face. "I mean, we know they aren't coming back, so,"

"Whatever is runnin' through y'r head, stop it right now, or Ah'm gonna,"

"Gonna what? All tied up Roguie, can't do anything." His grin was enough to make her shiver. He moved to stand right in front of her, eyes running over her like she were a piece of meat that he was about to shred, and Rogue felt the first tendril of fear shift in her body. "I mean, there isn't really anything I couldn't do right now." His fingers trailed along the top of her thigh, stroking from her knee to the curve of her hip, down the line of her pelvis to her crotch, hand cupping her through her pants.

The gasp was completely unbidden, along with the hitch of her hips as she pressed into his hand, biting on her lip. "Y' need me," she gasped out, swallowing past the lump in her throat, "y' need me t' get outta here. Ain't no way y'r doin' it y'rself." Her heartbeat was hammering, her cheeks heating as she tried to move back from him but had no leverage.

"C'mon, sweetheart, we've got plenty of time."

"Don't'cha remember what Ah do? Y' that thick headed?" There was a bite to her tone, even as he stepped closer, hips almost pressing to hers, his breath catching her hair slightly. "Y' wanna end up passed out on the floor again?" What really annoyed her was that spiral of arousal, she worked so hard to push those down, to never feel them, he was such an asshole and if they made it out of there she was going to smash his face through a wall.

"You have no imagination," his hand shifted to the button on her trousers, flicking it open and tugging the zipper down, his eyes never leaving hers and that smirk pissing her off. "Haven't you ever gotten a little adventurous? Hmm? Never played around?" She was about to flinch back from his fingers along her stomach, but the smooth glide of leather stopped her and Rogue frowned.

"What're y' doin'?" Her voice took a completely different tone, the odd feeling sparking goosebumps along her skin. Sure, she'd been touched before, Rictor used to cuddle her through layers of clothes, but this was decidedly more intimate than anything she'd ever experienced. "Back off an' get me outta here."

"Yeah, in a couple of minutes, I'm entertaining myself first." His hand turned to cup her again, this time sliding under her clothes and brushing along her folds. The chuckle from him told her he was smug with himself, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and even as she protested, he'd know what she actually wanted.

The first finger slid into her, making her gasp and pull away, Daken's other hand gripping her hip and stilling her as he pushed deeper inside her. It felt so different, it wasn't like she was abstinent, but someone else touching her, even through the leather gloves, maybe because of them, it just made her muscles tremble and her heart rate soar. Daken pressed in closer, his hips pressing against her leg as he inhaled beside her throat. "Isn't this so much better than escaping?" She couldn't say anything, not with a second finger sliding into her, pressing deep and stroking along her, the ridges on the gloves so different from her own slim fingers.

Her hips bucked forward, head tilting back and Daken started thrusting his fingers in and out of her, pressing his thumb to her clit and rubbing circles into her, his own cock rubbing at her leg through his pants. His hand on her hip slid up, stroking her breast through her shirt, running up her throat and his thumb stroking over her bottom lip before he pulled it back, his open palm running over her stomach, pushing her shirt up and slowly extending his two claws.

"Don't."

"Oh, but you'll like this, baby." Pushing her shirt out of the way, pressing his fingers up into her hard, Daken pushed the claws along her rib cage, tearing the skin and making her jerk and cry out. She bucked onto his fingers, feeling release shoot through her at the pain in her side and the hard press of his thumb into her clit. She hung from the chains, shaking slightly and clenching around his fingers as he pulled her hip closer, staring at the blood rolling down her side before he grunted and went rigid against her.

She took a moment to get her breathing under control, to make sure her voice wouldn't shake, "Y' done playin' y'r games now? Ready t' get outta here?" He smirked as he withdrew his fingers, licking his gloves like a cat.

"Yeah, lets go kill things."

--

Ophelia:

Pheromones on their own were bad enough, mix it with an empath with questionable boundaries and eclectic taste at the best of times and it was just a big bad idea trying to blow up.

Daken's never really been affected by his own pheromones, never really gotten lost in the haze before. Only this is like a mist that doesn't lift. It's probably the haze that gets them there, mind swimming with God knows what and just this urgent need to claim and own and have. She's all smooth and pale and creamy, folding under his hand and bruises rising to the skin fast; marks on the delicate lines of her shoulders, on the slim curve of her hip, the smooth flesh of her arms. It's not enough though, even as she melts into him, as her legs clench around his hips and draw him in, her body undulating like liquid and her skin flaring with heat.

At first, he just draws his nail down the middle of her chest, watching the red line stand out stark against her pale white skin. The skin rises around the scratch, red and vibrant, like her hair, spilling around her head like a halo of blood and Daken growls in the back of his throat, pressing his hips into her wildly. She moans and sighs and practically purrs, even though he could break her in his grip.

Bracing one hand at her shoulder, just beside her head, he bites at the curve of her throat, where her neck and shoulder meet, licking over the teeth imprint up to her ear, his breath hot against her skin, "Will you bleed for me? Hmm, will you paint the bed with your blood, darling?" She practically mewls at him, this spike of lust hitting him like a solid wall, and he almost wants to turn her over and slam into her without abandon.

One claw slides out from his fist, pressing against her shoulder and drawing down, slow and deliberate and shallow, blood welling under the tip. He drags a line from her shoulder to the swell of her breast, letting the blood gather on the skin while she arches and whines, biting at her bottom lip. The scent batters him, and trust her to smell sweet rather than metallic, and he just has to taste her. His tongue chases the beads of blood, lapping at the wound and she writhes against him, her hips pushing into his as a long whine breaks from her throat.

She's getting off on it and that's getting him off on it more than he gets off on it himself. It's like a cycle that just flares out of control and burns through him and fuck she's crazy in the best possible way for this. He leans over her again, dragging another line parallel to the first, just a little deeper to watch it bleed more. She twists into it, hand gripping to his shoulder, nothing but need and want and desire pulsing from her and into him and the way she ruts her hips up, trying to fuck herself on his cock but getting nowhere while he has her hips pinned down. His tongue drags from her shoulder to the swell of her breast, down to the nipple, smearing the blood around her skin and listening to her whimper and gasp, feeling that steady thump of need.

Pushing up, Daken resumes a steady pace, fucking into her, a hand sliding through her hair and gripping tight, tugging her head back and arching her body up. His claw slices a neat little cut over her other breast, the blood trickling down over her skin, catching on the nipple and Daken dips forward to suck it off, biting at the puckered nipple and laving up the blood, licking until every trace of it's gone.

He pulls her closer again, hearing the gasp as her back nearly bends, her legs spreading wide around his hips and Daken grunts, thrusting into her without rhythm or pace and dragging his claw over her thigh just as he climaxes, pushing her to that stage at the exact same second and both of them riding it out in a haze of need and desire and pain.

When he comes back to himself, she's lying out beside him on the bed, blood smeared over her breasts and the slice on her thigh trickling blood along her leg, down to the other and obscenely pooling between her legs. He has the ridiculous urge to lick her clean.

So he does.

--

Spencer:

It's just to kill the boredom, pushing the pheromones until he breaks and then just pushing him through the door. The biggest thrill isn't the sex, it's the fact that he can push the boy into this, and that it'll piss off that Collins bitch something fierce.

"C'mon, that's it." He's slow at pushing in, letting Spencer get used to it, hand cradling his head as his hips push forward, Spencer opening his mouth and letting Daken push in. "Oh yeah," it's all tentative, Spencer licking carefully and sucking lightly, and Daken takes his own sweet time.

His hips press deeper, pushing more in, pulling back and slowly starting to fuck Spencer's mouth, taking care not to choke him because he's not interested in having his cock bitten right then. Spencer just opens his mouth wider, flattens his tongue to the base of Daken's cock and lets him, groaning just occasionally around Daken.

It's easy to get to that point, to get to the brink and then he pulls out of that nice, warm mouth, hand stroking his cock fast and dirty and then he grunts, coming on Spencer's face, strips of come hitting his cheek and nose and lips and fuck, he licks his lips and Daken just grins, leaning in to share the taste.

"You should really clean that up." And having gotten what he came for, Daken fastens up and leaves the room.

--

requests; response five

icecoldwit — Fri, 13 May 2011 01:19:44 GMT

Who: Haylie Collins, Jane Worth
Where: New York
What: Following a bit of a disaster, Haylie takes steps to bring Jane back to himself.

Rating: PG
For: Bri who asked for '"Now, just because someone sees, you know, two naked people asleep in bed together, it doesn't necessarily prove sex was involved. It does, however, make for a very strong case." -Velvet Goldmine {Haylie & Jane}'.

He’s not exactly aware of anything that’s going on right then. There’s this sort of blank screen over his vision that’s pretty much blocking everything out. He’s able to follow directions; stand, come on, step up, mind your head, sit down, drink this. It’s all just autopilot, but it’s probably a good thing that he still understands the English language or something. He doesn’t protest when he’s pushed onto the edge of a mattress –bed, he tells himself, probably the hotel. There’s not a word out of him as his boots are pulled off, socks next and thrown somewhere.

His feet feel like blocks of ice, but that’s probably par for the course. His entire body feels like a block of ice. It probably has something to do with plummeting into the Delaware River stuck inside a car. “Arms up.” The plain, soaked and cold t-shirt is tugged up over his head and Jane hisses slightly at the pull of the muscles in his shoulders. A soft, warm hand runs over his collarbone –broken earlier but now in one piece and hell if he knows how that happened, because it’s not part of his mutant power and it’s not part of hers. It’s probably the same reason as why he’s alive right then. “Stand up again.” Her hand grips his elbow to help him stand, even as she unfastens his belt and something tells him that maybe he should actually move or something.

But three hours ago he drowned. Actually drowned, completely gone, lungs with no air and filled with water. Disgusting, freezing cold, Delaware River water. And then, suddenly, he’s not. It doesn’t make sense and he’s still freezing and his brain hasn’t caught up with anything yet. His cargo pants are on the floor and he’s buck naked and his brain is still switched off, possibly rebooting like something from the 90’s. “C’mon,” he’s horizontal and swaddled in blankets just as the shivers start and Jane has to clench his jaw just to stop his teeth clattering together.

There’s shuffling and the click of a light and then the bed dips behind him and there’s this warmth along his back, like someone just lit a fire down his spine. He’s slow to realise that its Haylie pressing to his back; her breasts against his shoulder blades, cheek to the nape of his neck, arm sliding around his waist, her legs tangling with his just to spread the warmth. He’s so fucking grateful and just as terrified. Because he’s shivering, he’s cold and numb and the possibility of this resulting in the cold to end all colds is completely possible. He just can’t articulate it at all, that she should probably not lie so close, or something to the same effect. Instead, his eyes start to droop and his breathing levels out and he feels everything relax backwards into that heat as he drifts off and just completely turns off.

--

Consciousness is like a stab to the neck and Jane’s awake in a second, body rigid and brain firing at a million miles a second.

“Hmm, Worth?”

Haylie is still right there behind him, still this furnace of welcome heat along his spine, but the pain is just excruciating. “Yeah, s’rry, jus’,” fuck he hasn’t felt like this since his lung collapsed when his chopper was shot down on his first tour of duty. “Little bit sore.” Understatement, but he’s not really trying to worry Haylie at this point.

His hand moves up to rub his face, but the muscles protest and the ache of the broken collarbone is there, even if the bone is no longer broken, so he can’t hide the hiss of pain or the uncomfortable shift. Haylie moves back, shifting up and away from his side just a little and the warmth is instantly missed. “Here, move back a little.” Her hand is firm, but gentle, pushing his shoulder until he’s lying on his back and then she just rearranges herself against him.

With an arm pinned under her body, sliding around her waist, Haylie settles to his chest, sprawling over him and the heat just seeps into his body. It’s a little weird; he’s never done the whole ‘lying naked with a friend just for the sake of it’ thing before. When he’s naked, in bed, with a hot chick, it’s usually for some far more biblical action. But it’s sort of nice, comforting in the sense that he had been dead and now he’s sort of calmed and definitely warm. So he just goes with it, staring at the ceiling, letting his mind just drift. Haylie’s head resting on the shoulder that doesn’t hurt, her thigh resting through his, arm over his hip, it’s sort of reassuring in a way. She raises a hand to run over his collarbone, fingers tracing it up to his shoulder. “Do you remember?”

He doesn’t really, snaps of things and a few blurry images, but it’s mostly just a haze of pain and cold and panic. “Not really,” he’s fairly certain that he’ll be given a degree of leeway with his report for this one. “Remember the car going off the bridge, remember Nitro bailing out.” He got rattled around in the car when it hit the water, no time to push the door open or kick open a window, it filled up too fast for him to get his bearings and by the time he’d managed to smash through the sunroof he’d lost too much oxygen and blacked out before he’d even reached the top.

The bone had broken before then though, when Pulse had blasted him through the diner window, it had cracked and split then, making one arm and hand completely useless. It was just as well that Haylie took Pulse out when she did or they’d have been well down the shitter. “What happened after that?”

She’s not looking at him, and he doesn’t really mind, she’s just staring at that place where his shoulder and throat connect. “Coast guard pulled you out, no pulse, CPR didn’t work. And then there was this kid, he pushed through to the docks and promised he could help.” Her fingers start that slow, soothing stroke along his bone again. “He just pressed his hands on your chest and then,” he feels her shrug against him, feels the turn of her lips against his skin, “you spluttered and coughed and everything was normal. Some strange guy in a leather suit picked up the kid, his name is Josh, by the way, Josh Foley.” Jane makes a note of it, since apparently that’s how he’s alive, because some kid named Josh played hero for a day. “Kinda scared me.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He’s pretty sure she’s not the only one he scared, since he’s still not managed to wrap his head around it all. “I think I’ll make a point on not drowning again.”

“Good plan.” Since it’s sort of clear that he’s no longer in danger of freezing to death after being saved from drowning, Jane almost expects Haylie to shift away so that they both, at least, have their own side of the bed. Instead she sort of nestles down, still resting on his chest and shoulder, still sharing the unbelievable body heat she has, and still stroking along his collarbone.

It’s the thump of her heartbeat, the steady reverberating of it through his chest that eventually pushes him back over to sleep, arm curved around her back to hold her close. He’s still too tired to really deal with anything, and it’s sort of nice to just share the heat and have that contact, so he doesn’t bother shifting away himself.

--

requests; response four

icecoldwit — Tue, 10 May 2011 11:29:23 GMT

Who: Julio Richter, Marie Darkholme
Where: Manhattan, New York
What: Julio and Marie, through the eyes of a stranger.

Rating: PG
For: Charlie, who asked for ‘Rogue/Ric, sibling love’.

Milligans’ is a small, peaceful sort of place. It’s a family kind of place but tends to be more students and writers that congregate there. But there’s one girl that doesn’t fit the mould. She’s in her late twenties, at least that’s what Clive Milligan –owner and namesake- believes. She’s a pretty girl; round face, brown hair streaked with white in a manner that looks natural but can’t possibly be, big green eyes and this homely sort of look to her. Clive thinks she’s one of those profiler types, probably studying people and their behaviour. It’s the only explanation for her actions that he can think of. She’ll come in with a book sometimes, read through it slowly, or she’ll just sit and watch everyone around her. She never brings any books for course work or the like, so Clive can’t be sure.

It comes as a surprise, not a horrible surprise, but just a shock, when she greets a handsome man outside one afternoon. The stripped haired girl has never met anyone there, she’s never brought a friend or left with anyone, she’s never talked past giving her order and then thanking anyone who clears her table. Clive finds himself watching in fascination.

She’s animated as she talks, her hands flitting around when she describes things, running through her hair and resting on his arms when she’s punctuating a point. Her grin is so wide it must hurt her face, but it looks good on her. She looks happy. Clive has never seen her look anything other than interested and distant. The man, whose name Clive catches as Julio, orders for both of them and pays, while she argues that he shouldn’t.

They seem so familiar with each other, but there looks like they have a lot to talk about. She seems to want to fill him in on everything she can in the space of a few seconds. Her voice is honey sweet, and Clive has always wanted to hear her speak more, those teasing hints of her accent always making him wonder what her voice would be like as it just flows. She’s from the South, he gets that, she’s not a native New Yorker, but she fits in with the city like she is. Until words like ‘darling’ and ‘sugar’ roll off her tongue. For a moment, he’s a little crestfallen; it looks like Julio is her partner, possibly her long term spouse. Only he wears a wedding ring and she doesn’t. He never pegged her for the homewrecker type.

She takes him to her regular seat, they huddle close and Clive sees that Julio speaks in just the same manner she does, with his hands and with pure joy on his face. He’s not surprised that they talk for nearly an hour, exchanging stories and hand movements and he makes her laugh; this warm, smooth sort of laugh that just suits her so perfectly. Clive makes a point on being the one to go and clear their table of used dishes and empty mugs.

“Hey, can we get two refills of coffee?”

“Julio, ain’t ya got a plane t’ catch?” So he’s leaving soon, it must be why she’s cramming so much into the one afternoon. Although Clive doesn’t get why she wouldn’t take him home if that was the case.

“Sure, but it doesn’t leave for another three hours, I’m all yours for another hour and a half.” His voice has a lilt to it, a Spanish sort of feel and Clive figures he may live in Florida or California, one of the more Spanish populated states. “Besides, we haven’t even gotten to Lucia, and the kids.”

“Oh, how’re mah darlin’s?” Maybe they’ve split up, maybe they were together but separated. Lucia could be the new wife. But then why would he have the kids.

“Lucia misses her Auntie Ro, you gotta come visit us more.” Aunt. Lucia was her niece.

“I’ll just get you those coffees.” Clive gives them both a smile, glad that he was there for the conversation, glad that Julio wanted the extra coffees. Lucia missed her Auntie Ro, which was the girl with the stripes. Ro could’ve been short of Rose, Rosie, Robin, Rowan, Roxanne. Her name aside, Clive was just too busy focusing on Lucia, Lucia who missed her Auntie Ro. They were siblings.

Accents aside, it was understandable. The comfort they showed with one another, the happiness she exuded and the joy he seemed to have just by seeing her. There was a distance between them only because of where they lived it seemed, and Julio wanted her to visit him. He was tanned and seemed to have that Spanish sort of feel, probably California, somewhere sunny and laid back, somewhere nice enough for kids to grow.

And she seemed so excited about the kids, clearly family was a big thing to them. Clive had always thought family should’ve been everyone’s priority. He had a small family, but he always wanted a big one. She looked like she wanted a big family, like she’d love a big family.

Taking the coffees over, Clive placed them down, giving her a soft smile and meeting her eyes. Julio may’ve handed over the money, but Clive was too caught in that smile from her. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“Thanks.”

And if she didn’t know before, she probably would now. Clive wasn’t even all the way to the counter before he heard her brother –her brother! “Hey, the cute coffee guy likes you.”

“Shut y’r mouth,” but there was no bite to her tone, and Clive risked a glance back. She ducked her head just as he caught her eye again and he resolved, the next time she was in, he’d ask her what her name was, maybe for her phone number, or just if she’d like to go out sometime. “Drink y’r coffee, Julio.”

Thank God for visiting brothers.

requests; response three

icecoldwit — Tue, 10 May 2011 00:14:30 GMT

Who: Akihiro 'Daken', Haylie Collins, Julio Richter, Marie Darkholme
Where: Ontario, Canada
What: A clusterfu-- of a mission, with the four most dysfunctional members possible and the most vague objective ever.

Rating: R
For: Kaylee, who asked for 'A mission, with Rictor, Rogue, Spitfire and Daken. Yeah, you read it right. Bonus if Rictor doesn't turn into the punching bag'.

Whoever had planned the mission hadn't stopped to think just who they were sending and just what sort of issues it would cause. As far as they were concerned, they had a tracker in Daken, a medic in Spitfire, a destructive power in Rictor and an information gatherer in Rogue. No one considered the personality or personal differences of these four before sending them out to Canada on a research and destroy mission.

Haylie wasn't pleased at all, and Rogue could feel the rage almost simmering off her. She understood it, she would feel the exact same way if it was her. Daken was a piece of shit, a smarmy one at that, acting like the cat that got the canary. Frankly, Rogue wasn't taking her eye off him. The fact that she and Rictor were still having these tense sort of moments when they both remembered just what they said a few weeks before didn't help matters at all.

They landed at the deserted air strip in Ontario, the black canvas of night pretty much wiping out anything they could've seen. Lieutenant Worth gave them nine hours for pick up and took the chopper off. Daken grinned at Haylie as she glared and they started walking where they were told.

Rogue and Haylie take the front, ignoring Daken but minding the presence, while Rictor sulks behind. "Can't believe they let you out." Daken has to needle though, can't just shut his mouth and get on with things, as if he doesn't even realise that two of the members of the unit would like nothing more than to rip him limb from limb at the first available moment. "It's not like you're useful. Probably do them a favour, will I?"

It's the sound of the claw unsheathing, that annoying 'flick' noise that puts Rogue's teeth on edge and her face curls into a scowl. Haylie's getting ready to round on Daken, Rogue knows, but it's Rictor, and no one threatens Rictor, ever. Her fist smacks solidly against Daken's jaw as she turns and hovers until she's standing between Daken and Rictor.

"How 'bout ya clamp that mouth o' yours shut before Ah wire it." With her mother around, Rogue's had a little more time to get her old traits back into order. Her glare is on par with Raven's and no one dares to argue with the shapeshifter. "Try anythin' an' Ah'm gonna have fun buryin' ya."

Haylie and Rogue practically flank Rictor, and it's a subtle move when Rictor brushes his knuckles over Rogue's gloved hand as a thank you. She doesn't know why he feels he should thank her though.

--

The 'compound' they've been sent to is a fifteen story building in the heart of the city. It's a bother to deal with but nothing they can't really manage. There's a back door that Rogue hauls off it's hinges and a camera system that Spitfire and Rictor disable.

Daken's three seconds away from killing two security guards when Rogue has to push him into the wall and flick his nose. "Bad dog, no." They weren't to leave a body count, which meant keeping the feral on a leash. "Y'r worse than Creed." His claws come back out, narrowly missing Rogue's sides, and she knows it's not a coincidence.

"Go on, say it again."

"Step outta line, an' Ah'll drop y' from the roof." Her open palm smacks his cheek before she moves away and she hears his growl behind her. Not that she's at all bothered. Rictor and Spitfire incapacitate the guards, leaving them in a closet while Rogue and Daken take to the main hall, disabling the security system and Rogue absorbing enough of the on duty guard to knock him out and give her the location of their target.

"Where we headin' then?" It's no surprise that Haylie is impatient, with Daken skulking in the corner and no doubt just waiting for his next chance to go for one of them, Rogue can relate.

"Ninth floor. We gotta get to level three before we use the elevators." There are routes and security measures and the schedule for patrols all running through her head right then, it'll be good for them to avoid running into too many guards, but it's also a bit of a hindrance when there's something inside her that wants to blow the whistle on their team.

"Let's go then." Daken is the first up the stairs, four at a time and gone from view before the others can see. Rogue flies up, ahead of Haylie and Ric but not too far. Daken can take care of himself, she knows that Ric and Haylie can take care of themselves, but she just likes to stick close to Ric just in case, even with this slight distance between them. They catch up with Daken at the third floor elevators and there are two guards on the ground, knocked out. There's no blood, so there isn't exactly much to say.

"Feel better?" Rogue can't help but revert to her catty nature when around Daken, it's lingering from Rictor and she just needles and picks, because she knows she could snap his neck and heal herself with his powers if he got too close. What is really off putting, and just a little uncomfortable, is the muzac in the elevator. When the four of them get in, hit the button for the ninth and then have to deal with the annoying, calming sort of noise from the speakers.

When they get to the ninth, they head along the hallway until they come to a split. "Right, y' each take a path, head to the very end an' activate the panels on the walls. It's a simple case o' punching in the code 1763, then hitting enter. Then y' get y'r butts back here fast as or we're leavin' y'all behind." Haylie gives her a nod, Rictor does a mock little salute thing with a grin before darting off and Daken just snorts. She's really not bothered.

Rogue gets her own done and heads back first, Daken coming in second and then Haylie and Rictor meeting them just in time. The ground they stood on started to shift, and Rogue smiled at Rictor's shock and glee, written plainly on his face as they ascended through the opening ceiling above them.

"What is this place?"

"It's a specialist compound. They're working with highly experimental weapons and technology, it's all very cloak an' dagger." They stop in a large grey room, desks laid out with various implements laid out on them. They break off from the platform, wandering the length of the room which easily takes up the whole building. It's like a whole floor just laid out as the whole lab area.

Rogue's just a little stunned at the whole thing, everything is so elaborate and amazing. She knows that she needs to find an office and thus the computer system with the information and then Rictor and Spitfire get to destroy the floor and they are out. The only problem comes when Rogue opens the door to the office and Daken shouts.

"Incoming."

"We got it Ruby, you get the job done!" Rogue just goes for it, leaving Rictor, Spitfire and Daken to do what they had to. Body counts were to be avoided, but not completing the mission or getting caught, that was worse than killing a few people, surely. She got into the computer system, pulling up all the information she could on the program and saving it to the USB she had been given.

The walls shook a little as she worked, soft pops of explosives carrying along the floor. She could hear the fighting, the three of them working together while the download completed. With all the information transferred, Rogue smashed the hard drive on the floor, slipping the USB into her uniform and heading out.

She flies out the door to a body sailing past, holes in the chest area and Daken is about five feet away from her, taking bullets in the back. Rictor and Spitfire are about twelve feet from him dealing with their own problems and Rogue can't believe that she has to help this asshole. She breaks a jaw, smashes a head into the floor and tosses a body into another body. Daken is slumped against the wall, breathing harshly and Rogue knows better than to ask him if he's okay, he'll be fine in a few moments, just needing the time to heal.

It's pure fighting instinct that makes her grab one of the men by the head and yank, snapping his neck without second thought. It's the last body to drop, Rictor and Spitfire staring over where their attackers have been rendered incapacitated, because Haylie doesn't kill and Ric tends not to. Rogue can't manage to feel guilty about the three she's killed. Daken just smirks.

"Shut y'r face an' lets go. Ah got the info." They get as far as the platform lowering when there's another rush of guards, all armed. Daken takes a shot gun blast to the chest, pelting him with buck shot and he lands in a heap on the ground. "Shit."

Spitfire pulls out a boom, shattering ear drums but not killing and Rictor causes a tremble through the walls. They head for the elevator, Rogue grabbing Daken on the way. Haylie and Ric make it in when Rogue takes a bullet in the shoulder and stumbling. The doors close before she can get in and she sees Rictor's face. "Keep goin'," she says into the comm system they hadn't been using. "Ah'll use the wall."

Daken is starting to shake off the shot gun blast, still groggy and Rogue could really use some of his healing but is loathe to have him in her head again. Instead she uses a panel from the ceiling to bring part of the roofing tiles down on the five men standing in the hall before grabbing Daken by the scruff of the neck and barrelling herself out the nearest wall, back first.

They plummet for five floors before she slows and flies the next two floors slower before losing strength and dropping the last two, landing in a heap with Daken nearby. He's shaking it off when Rictor and Spitfire run out of the building, Daken getting to his feet just as Rictor makes it to Rogue's side. "Ruby, Ruby, you okay?"

Her shoulder burns and aches from the bullet, but nothing feels broken and she figures that Ms Marvels powers stopped that from happening. "Yeah, just a little annoying." They'll probably need to slit her skin open to get the bullet out later. Or just leave it in there. "C'mon, we better get going." It almost looks like Daken wants to head back in and finish off the remaining people, and Rogue wouldn't be surprised if that were true. But for once, common sense might've won out, since there are still pieces of buck shot embedded in Daken's skin.

"Yeah, whatever."

--

When they reach the pick up point, Rogue collapses on the ground, sitting in a heap and letting her head loll forward. Ric's there in a few seconds, carefully moving her head and showing far more caution than he used to, shifting her until her good side is leaning against him and her head is on his shoulder. Daken makes a point of picking the metal out of his shoulder and chest.

"Y' got a bit in y'r neck." Rogue still doesn't like him, still won't put up with his crap, still feels that he's a threat to Rictor. But he did take a lot of the damage that would've potentially killed any one of them.

When Worth arrives, Haylie climbs into the passenger side of the cockpit, Daken taking the back and closing his eyes to ignore everyone while Rictor fusses over Rogue opposite Daken.

As far as missions go, it wasn't perfect, but then, it could've been so much worse.

--

requests; response two

icecoldwit — Sat, 07 May 2011 23:05:04 GMT

Who: Jubilation Lee, Marie Darkholme
Where: Safe house, unknown location
What: Conversations, in parts, over a week and a half of 'laying low'.

Rating: PG-13
For: Bri, who requested 'Rogue and Jubilee, prompt Breathe Me by Sia'. I am sorry, I honestly do not know how I got this from that prompt.

"We got any soda?"

The cupboards had been stocked with something, neither of them had stocked them, neither of them knew who did. They just woke up to a full supplied kitchen and clean linens. This place was kinda creepy like that.

"Yeah, diet lemon an' some cola." It wasn't that they were stocked well, just, stocked. They had a ridiculous amount of beef jerky, and that alone made Rogue worry that Creed had been part of some kind of questionnaire concerning what they might need. "Got some orange an' apple juice too."

Since the radiation blast, the one that had wiped out a base of people, completely obliterating them and leaving nothing, Rogue and Jubilee had been quarantined in some strange little house with no obvious door. After the first day, when Rogue had slammed her fist into the wall and been electrocuted, five times following five separate attacks on the wall, and Jubilee had almost blown herself up trying to zap the walls, well, they hadn't attempted escape since. A recorded message informed them that it was only for a while, until they were sure of what the radiation had done to them, until they knew why Jubilee and Rogue had survived while no one else had.

Rogue would've worked up the energy to care about those faceless, nameless people if she wasn't losing her mind in captivity.

"I hate diet lemon."

Jubilee blew up the bottle.

--

"First time ya broke outta the house?"

"When Ah was nine, went 'gator wrestlin' with the other kids."

"Gators? As in alagators? As is big teeth and chomping jaws?"

"Yeah, swamps round mah place were full o' them. Learned how t' wrestle 'em before Ah learned how t' swim."

"Jesus, you are scary."

Rogue just grinned.

--

"Why don't you like being touched?"

"Cause it's how mah power works. Ain't fun t' know too much 'bout everyone. What's your excuse?"

"One less way for someone to try and hurt me."

"Got a point, Ah guess."

Jubilee just shrugged.

--

"Why Rogue?"

"Why Jubilee?"

"Well, Jubilee is half Jubilation, half Lee. Both my names in one."

"Mah Daddy tol' me once that mah Mama, the one that gave birth t' me, that she'd said she'd seen a vision o' me. An' Ah'd be a real rebel, a right rogue. Kinda just stuck."

"Ya ever meet her?"

"Yeah, but Ah've forgotten everything Ah ever knew. Mystique's mah Mama, an' Destiny's mah Mom."

"Sometimes, I'm scared I'll forget everything about my parents too."

They don't talk any more that night.

--

"Seriously, do they think we'll grow wings? Or horns? Is this some sick punishment because we made it through? Come on, where are you! Why don't you fuckin' talk to us!"

"Would'a stop it before y' spark the damn wall again."

"I don't care if I blow the whole place up. Someone answer me!"

"Jubilee, quit it!"

"God, damn you!"

The only chairs in the room blew up with a loud crack.

--

"Ah wonder what kind'a fuss they're kickin' up."

"Who?"

"Ric an' Tini."

"Those two? Why would they bother?"

"Ric's mah brother, and Martini's, well, he's like mah brother in law Ah guess."

"You all that close?"

"Sure. Ain't nothin' Ah wouldn't do for them. Pretty sure they'd do the same f'r me."

"I've never had that."

"Ah hadn't either, not before Ric."

Jubilee huddled into a ball on the floor.

--

"Can you remember how long we've been in here?"

"Three days? Ah dunno, it feels like months, but Ah'm pretty sure it's a few days."

"Know what I miss?"

"Quiet nights in?"

"Ice cream."

"Rocky road, or bubblegum?"

"Strawberry mint cheesecake."

"Where in tarnation d' you get y'r ice cream?"

"When we get outta here, we're going to L.A. I'll show you the best damn ice cream ever!"

Rogue was surprisingly excited about it.

--

"What the hell'd y' do this time?"

"I thought the window would smash."

"It looks like it did, all over y'."

"Well, I didn't exactly plan on the wall being behind it."

"Sit y'r fool ass on the table an' lemme see if Ah can help."

"You'll be careful, right?"

"Trust me, Ah don't want no more folks runnin' round mah head any more than you wanna be comatosed on the floor f'r a couple'a hours."

Jubilee didn't complain as Rogue gently got the glass out of the wounds on her arms.

--

"Hey, you mind if- I mean."

"Y' think we'll end up with some crazy dependency on each other?"

"Us? Nah, we're too strong for that. Ain't gonna break. Just, I guess I get a little lonely. This place gives me the willies."

"Yeah, me too. Alright, gimme a minute t' get mah gloves."

"I've got my jacket too, that helps, right?"

"Ain't ever been too careful."

It was the first night Jubilee and Rogue laid out on the cots, side by side, shoulders touching.

--

"We just ran out of canned meat."

"Shit."

"We've got one jar of pickles, a tin of tuna and some rice pudding left."

"Then it's on to the jerky, isn't it."

"We're gonna starve!"

"Lets eat the puddin's first then."

They ate the puddings, split the pickles and turned their nose up at the tuna. It was just the jerky from there out.

--

"Y' think we'll suffocate before we starve?"

"If we're getting close to starving, would you kill me and eat me?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Naw, I'm serious. If we were gonna starve, and you could survive, but only if you ate me, would you?"

"No. Gawd. Ah barely even stomach beef at the best o' times, Ah ain't about t' eat mah friends!"

"Friends?"

"Y' go from cannibalism t' friends, an' the fact that Ah call y' a friend is more surprisin' than the fact that y'r talkin' 'bout cannibalism?"

"Cannibalism would be relatively normal with our group."

"Fair point."

Rogue doesn't bother pointing out that Jubilee seems a little happy.

--

"Okay, out o' the whole group, who d'ya hate the most?"

"Psylocke. Uh, that woman is just- grrr."

"Really? Ain't talked to her much."

"Do 'paths freak you?"

"Paths? Nah, ain't nothing like that. Actually, Ah think Ah bother telepaths more 'an they bother me."

"How come?"

"Dunno, probably residual noise from folks Ah've touched or somethin'."

"Okay, who do you hate most?"

"Um, prob'ly Wade. Man jus' talks too damn much."

"He's kinda funny."

"Sure, if y' like slapstick stupid."

"Babe, you're besties with Ric."

"Ain't the point."

But it does make them both smirk.

--

"It's been forever."

"An' a few days."

"Wonder if this is what castaways feel like."

"How is that even remotely the same?"

"I have no idea."

"Now we're just talkin' for noise. We're gonna end up like Rictor, or Wade. Gawd, Ah'm gonna go stitch mah mouth shut."

"Just stuff me like a turkey."

"Turkeys are stuffed through the ass, Jubes."

"Alright, like a pig! Call me a pork chop and shove an apple in me!"

Rogue smashes her hand through the wall where the window that Jubilee blew up once was. She hits the opposite wall with the thud before stumbling back to sit beside Jubilee.

"Feel better?"

"Meh, could'a worked better."

"I don't know, you did get through the wall?"

"Seriously?"

"Look."

There's a tiny speck of light, the smallest hole in the brick there. Rogue and Jubilee just grin.

--

"You're sure?"

"Hell yeah."

"I mean, I want out of here -wherever here is- just as much as you, but, well, you flew back about thirty feet."

"Important thing is gettin' back up."

"Oh god, we're gonna be buried in here."

"Stop being such a drama queen and go stand under the doorway."

"If you die, and come back and haunt me, I am so not feeling guilty."

"Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap. We're turning int' a married couple, we gotta get outta here."

Rogue takes five blows before she slumps towards the floor. The hole is around the size of a window though.

"C'mon, we're climbing through."

"Where the hell does it go?"

"Who the fuck cares? Lets get out of here before we turn into beef jerky."

Jubilee insists on going first, hands up ready to blast anything that tries to stop them. When Rogue slips through the window, she just slumps down against Jubilee's side and closes her eyes.

--

"Wha- where-"

"Hey, sleepin' beauty. Nice of you to show up to the meeting."

"Shuddup, Jubes. Who hit me with the truck?"

"That would be the result of almost seventeen thousand volts of electricity pounding through you. Those powers of yours really are scary."

"Ms Marvels, not mahn."

"Same diff. Fact is, babe, you hauled ass on that wall. The normals are pissed but screw them. I think the ol' Captain went through them like a fucking bulldozer."

"What are you talkin' 'bout now, fireworks?"

"They didn't know we were in there. Can you believe it? Fucking military had us locked up to see if they could zap us with radiation."

"What?"

"Woah there, skunk queen. You're finally reacting like a normal person would to being zapped by lightning. Which is to say, you ain't looking so hot. Take a pill and chillax a while. That doctor lady is taking care of shit."

Rogue couldn't keep up with Jubilee any more, so she gave in.

--

"They finally let you out?"

"Yeah, after Ah tore another door off its hinges."

"You wanna grab some food?"

"Really, Ah just wanna sit out here a while."

"Oh, okay. I'll just-"

"Y' wanna sit y'r butt down an' tell me what the hell's been goin' on? C'mon, who else is gonna give it t' me straight?"

"Ain't gonna be these bozos, that's for sure. Right, way I've gotten it, and that, by the way, took a lot of wheeling and dealing, but, story is--"

--

requests; response one

icecoldwit — Fri, 06 May 2011 22:43:31 GMT

Who: Jane Worth, Ethan Sykes, Juggernaut
Where: Orlando, Florida
What: In an attempt to stem the Juggernaut’s destructive rampage, Sykes takes a team to Orlando with varied levels of success.

Rating: PG-13, for a potty mouthed flyboy
For: Kaylee, who requested 'Ethan and Jane on that mission, pre-the hotel thing.'

Considering the heat, the fact that they were running through Florida, Jane was starting to wonder if this was some kind of passive aggressive method of killing them. A guy like ‘the Juggernaut’ really wouldn’t have a problem with killing them if he put his mind to it, flattening three cars with little more than a stamp pretty much highlighted that point, but it seemed like dehydration and heat exhaustion were also acceptable methods of murder these days.

"Carlysle, position?" From the looks of things, Sykes was having just as much trouble as Jane was, both of them stopping their sprint for a few moments to catch their breath and Sykes’ checking in with the other half of their team.

"He’s taken a turn into the bank, you can’t miss it. He made a new door." Yet more property damage.

"You and Caine get there, see if you can’t stave off the carnage." The fact that Alice Caine seemed able to stop Juggernaut’s projectiles from hitting anyone made it pretty damn useful, and Vanessa, well once Jane got his head around the casual way she wore his face he’d been pretty okay with that girl too. "Let’s go." And off they were again, sprinting the last of the distance between them and the mass of destructive force.

What Jane hadn’t figured out, which he hoped Sykes had, was just what they were meant to do when they got to Juggernaut. The man had hauled off the moment he even caught a whiff of them and then it had been a chase through the city, trying to minimise casualties and damage. For such a big guy, he was pretty fast. Or just had the sheer mass to move everyone out of his way.

Rounding the last corner and reaching the bank, there weren’t even any protests from the local police force as Sykes vaulted the barricades, Jane on his heels and the pair of them went for Juggernaut’s newly created hole.

"Captain, we’re in position. Caine has things in hand." A glance to the side and the slight build in noise informed both Jane and Sykes that Flick was taking care of the weapons Juggernaut was launching, freezing some and blowing up others. "I’m maintaining Olivia Hughes’ powers at the moment, will update if needed."

Sykes just gave Jane a nod, starting back up towards the gaping hole in the side of the building. The dents in the floor were like a bread crumb trail, rubble and crumbling walls leading the way through the building. There were a few civilians inside, momentary pauses to assist in showing them the safest way out putting Jane in front of Sykes as he turned the last corner, just to get smacked with a slab of wall. "Ow, fuck." His chest took the brunt, knocking him back and winding him for a moment. The biggest pain was along his side where five spikes had shot out of his rib cage, tearing through the skin and mangling his side for the time being. Groaning in pain, Jane yanked them out, leaving them where they fell and pulling himself to his feet just as Juggernaut slammed Sykes into the wall, one large hand around the Captain’s throat.

Forcing a spike up through his shoulder, Jane gave a pull and threw the sharp tipped bone right for Juggernaut’s metal protected head, forcing another three from his arm to launch at the colossal menace. One spike pierces through the metal ring on Juggernaut’s leg, forcing the giant to drop Sykes to the floor and staggering back slightly before he regains his balance.

Jane tries to fire off another three, allowing Sykes to regain his breath, before Juggernaut crosses the room. They bounce off whatever his chest plate is made of, one big meaty hand lashing out as Juggernaut staggers forward, clouting Jane over the side of the head and launching him into the wall. There’s a dazed minute where the world tilts and Jane’s vision goes black before he can even contemplate getting up and following.

"Lieutenant," there’s a hand on his shoulder, just beside yet another spike and Jane grumbles as he yanks that one out. "Easy there, you stay put, that was a bit of a blow." Jane can feel the blood at his temple, the ache in his head already outweighing the soreness in his muscles and bone from his powers.

"No, no, I’m good," and he’s not about to leave the Captain taking on the Juggernaut by himself. "Lead the way." It’s fairly obvious that Sykes wants to make it an order, but maybe he’s figured out that they don’t really have much option here. Jane used to wall to get his balance back before following Sykes out, back on the trail of destruction that heralded Juggernaut’s path.

"Watch!" They manage to duck as a bank counter flies towards them, Sykes going one way and Jane going the other. Juggernaut takes a run at Sykes, battering into him and both of them going through the wall, taking them back outside the building Jane barely gets out before part of the building collapses down on itself from the structural damage.

There’s a flash in front of him, and Jane is stunned to find Juggernaut tossing Sykes into the air like a rag doll. Copycat is already on it, slipping into Justice’s form with practised ease and halting Sykes’ fall with a raised hand. "Spike!" With Sykes out of the equation, Juggernaut takes another turn at Jane, Flick’s warning coming just too late and Juggernaut slamming Jane back into the building, his side colliding with the mangled wall. He’s barely hit the ground before Juggernaut is there, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him into the wall again. A series of spikes jerk out of his back as he’s slammed, nine along his spine just jolting out and into the wall. His head cracks into the concrete and two long bones jut out of his collarbones, one running through Juggernaut’s hand where it grips him.

Jane is released again, Juggernaut flinching away with the bone stuck through his hand. Leaning against the wall, Jane gets a few seconds as the mammoth of a man reared back before yelling out. For a brief moment, Jane’s pretty sure that other fist is about to crack his head like a watermelon, but there’s a blur, and the world tilts again, and something in the back of his head tells him concussion before anything rights itself.

When it does, Jane is on his side, on a stretcher, outside the rubble of the bank with people milling around and muttering. "Finally back with us?" While looking at her face, Jane would believe that he’d irritated Flick in some way, but the tone wasn’t just as caustic as she could be. "Just as well, Sykes was starting to wonder how we’d be getting back." There’s a snap of thunder around them, and Jane wonders just how long he was out, because the weather was nothing like this earlier.

"What?" Trying to sit up is apparently a no, Flick’s hand on his shoulder urging him back down and then he notices that his shirt is a complete mess of holes and there’s blood smeared everywhere.

"Whatever happened, you freaked everyone out. The amount of blood was fantastic in the sense that you shouldn’t bleed that much." Oh, right, too many blows against the wall, the spikes forcing out and tearing through the skin.

"It happens." Which was his standard response when it came to his powers these days.

"Well," Flick sat back against the side of the ambulance, where Jane was propped up away from prying eyes, "Sykes and Copycat are securing Juggernaut, the Captain managed to take him down after you skewered his hand. Impressive." It had been a complete accident, startled out of him by the blows to his back. "Then we’re catching a hotel for the night, and when you can see straight, we’re out of here."

Jane just nodded, ignoring the throbbing in his back and the stinging along his side and the ache in his head. He could use a long, hot shower and then about twelve hours sleep before returning to base. Hopefully the next time they went out to try and keep the peace they wouldn’t end up with so many pieces of it.

Requests;

icecoldwit — Fri, 06 May 2011 00:21:51 GMT

Taking requests for drabbles;

Leave a comment with:

A character, a pairing, a setting, an inspirational image or a rating. Any welcome or all.

Comments are screened so that it's a surprise!

for my Charlie-Bear

icecoldwit — Thu, 05 May 2011 23:27:43 GMT

Who: Ethan, Everyone else
Where: Here, there and everywhere
What: Following the completion of her course work, Charlie gets a present. She's the one that's dirty minded -or I am and she just enables it, anyway! All characters used with love for shameless gratification. List of characters used in the tags.
Rating: Ratings range from PG-13 to full blown NC-17.

Adrian:

Missions were usually hard, missions with Daken harder still. The fact that the feral took three bullets in the chest which pretty much saved his team-mates lives was just the icing on the cake of that slight awkwardness. Really, Ethan wasn't sure if it was the lingering of Daken's pheromones or the residual effect of the empath they'd had to take out, but when he's exiting the showers and almost literally bumps into Clark, there's this moment of pause where a multitude of things run through his head.

He would apologise and walk around the kid, but his gaze is pretty much locked on Adrian's lips and it's hard to shake off those emotional manipulations that still hamper his mind. It appears that Clark is having the same problems and when Ethan leans forward the other male is doing the same.

There's something gratifying about it though; the press of hard body, the slip of soft lips and Ethan has a hand around the back of Adrian's head before he even realises that he moved at all. It's not a soft, tentative testing of the waters; it's a sloppy, open mouthed exploration with a desperate edge.

They don't part until there's a clatter from the far end of the shower room, Adrian with a high blush on his cheeks and Ethan is blinking back the confusion. There's the awkward clearing of throats and Adrian steps back as he stares at the floor and Ethan just mumbles an apology before walking away. If he could go back for a second shower he would, but considering his current state he's fairly certain a private shower would be preferable.

--

Akihiro:

Something had to give, he knew it. Eventually, something was going to give and that was just going to be it. But Daken kept playing the little games and Ethan was only so good at fighting them off. It was the pheromones, that was it, that's all. And if Ethan told himself that enough, he might believe it.

"Fuck," the sharp bite to his throat pushes thoughts aside and all that's left is the action, hips pressing forward and down and a low growl vibrating along his neck. Passive isn't in Daken's nature, so Ethan isn't surprised to find himself on his back seconds, Daken grinning over him and setting a brutal pace.

"Trying to." As flippant as he tries to be, Ethan can hear the slight waver in Daken's voice, the way he bites on his lip around his grin, the stutter in the shift of his hips. Daken wants the control, but Ethan's not quite ready to lose all of it yet. They twist together, trying to counter one another as if it's another battle, but Ethan has the upper hand for the split second he needs it.

Slamming Daken back to the ground, he uses a grip on those sharp hips to keep the feral in place, pushing his arm under one leg and spreading Daken out before resuming the quick, strong pace. It's like purring, the noises from Daken's throat and Ethan redoubles his efforts, determined to best the feral here.

--

Alice:

"We'll have to play it cool."

"I am aware," she's got this stubborn streak that he's sure every member of the team is required to have before joining, "if you'd shut up, sir, I'd be able to work with this."

He forgets that she's actually trained for these situations, that this was her career before she took a place with the military group. Instead of reprimanding her, he presses his lips back to her neck, trailing tiny kisses along her throat while his hands slide around her waist.

As disinterested as she is, she seems very good at faking it; the way she leans into his, her lower body pressing to his, curving around his hips, hands sliding through his hair as her head tips back just slightly. She's an attractive woman, rough around the edges in a way Mac is, but still attractive. Soft skin and delicate curves, pretty eyes and soft hair. He can understand how easily it is to believe he simply can't keep his hands off her.

"Look out," her head turns suddenly and she's kissing him. He's suitably stunned for a moment to go lax, allowing her to control the kiss, her hands tugging at his hair to move his head where she wants it, her lips slipping over his but never going past polite. She really is a contradiction. "Okay," when she breaks back, slipping away from his grasp and flicking out her hands, Ethan can't even detect a hint of fluster from her. "Are you coming or what?"

Alice Caine doesn't wait for him to answer, with the guards to the back of the museum frozen in place she slips into the employee only area and Ethan has to wonder if she really is asexual or if he's just taking offence for no reason.

--

Angel:

"This isn't-"

"I know,"

"We shouldn't-"

"I know,"

"Ethan," Complaints aside, Angel isn't pushing him away, not as he presses her against the counter, not as he kisses along her throat, not as his hands slide along her legs, stroking the soft flesh of her thighs. "We're in the kitchen, oh my-, no, we shouldn't be, ah-"

"Can't help it," her legs shift, almost subconsciously, to fit him in between her legs as he pressed her to sit on the edge of the counter. "These little shorts, God Angel, what you do to me." Anything else she could say is just a moan, her head falling back as Ethan trails kisses along her throat, biting softly on her collarbone. His hands slide up her torso, slipping beneath her flimsy little top to caress the skin.

"Ethan, come on, we can't get caught." They work so hard at not getting caught, at not having any sort of incident that could be deemed inappropriate. But Angel's small, dexterous little fingers are working at Ethan's belt, sliding it off and tugging at his fly and Ethan doesn't even argue. Ethan's pants are around his ankles as he pulls Angel to the edge of the counter, her short shorts pushed off one leg. It's a practice in recklessness, Ethan knows it and Angel knows it but they just don't fight it this time. There's a soft gasp from her as he presses in slowly, Angel's hands supporting herself on Ethan's shoulders as he uses a grip on her hips to direct them, mouth pressing just below her ear. He'd like to draw things out, tease her along, but there's just no way he possibly can; the thrill of getting caught, the pure desire she inspires in him, those soft, needy gasps she makes right beside his ear. It's impossible to keep things slow and controlled.

They move like they can't possibly survive without out, Angel's fingers digging into his shoulders and Ethan struggling to keep himself in check until she whines low, bites her lip and clenches around him, his name utterly like a prayer against his cheek. He doesn't take much more to follow her, her lips moving in hushed words against his skin, coaxing him along.

Even with the precarious location, Ethan couldn't resist a little after glow, smirking slightly and pressing soft kisses to Angel's lips. At least until the moment was broken, "Yo! Romeo, Shar Pei says you better get that place scrubbed or he's having your hide." Mac's voice was loud enough from the main area of the kitchen to tell Ethan that she was at the front of the mess and likely the reason they weren't being interrupted. For the most part. "Make him clean up and then take him home Angel."

Ethan was pretty sure that he and Angel had mirroring looks of embarrassment on their faces.

--

Betsy:

The spark of pleasure that ran up her spine had nothing to do with being pinned to the mat and everything to do with the power above her. Her skin tingled where his hands gripped and Elisabeth had to bite back the moan of pleasure, lest she give the game away too early. Which was exactly what it was, a game. But they both knew the unspoken rules, and she wasn't going to be the first to break that.

As he tried to get her into a submission hold, Betsy twisted her body, using her impressive flexibility to reverse their positions. She wasn't nearly as strong as he was but that just meant she had to use different tactics. His hand was still around her wrist, forcing her hand back town behind her, twisting her arm even as she locked one of her legs around his, her other leg over his hip for leverage. And then she pressed down.

She knew what she'd find, and that was why she did it. His intake of breath, even as his hips pressed up into the warm curve of her hip and leg, Betsy using her lower body to add pressure, twisting her hips down until she heard him groan. It was the satisfaction of hearing it that caused the distraction, not long, but long enough from him to pull her down and twist them again.

Betsy gets one hand in front of her to avoid her face hitting the mat, her other still twisted behind her back. Sykes gives her arm a slight twist, pushing his knees under her hips and spreading her over his thighs. The position pushes her down while pressing her crotch into his and Betsy can't help but grunt at the pleasure that pulses when he pushes his hips up into hers. His other hand plants on the mat right in front of her, changing the angle and he takes a slow roll of his hips, pushing against her and inducing a full body shudder. "Okay, okay, I give." He releases her wrist and she knows, he was moments away from conceding as well. She doesn't say it out loud though; her hand slipping beneath her work out shorts as his hand curls around her hip. She moans against the mat, mouth open and gasping as she works herself closer to the edge, Ethan rubbing against her through his own work out gear.

She gets there first, and he follows. It's just a game, but it's definitely mutually beneficial. No matter who gives in first.

--

Emma:

Daken is barely seconds out of the cell when Ethan feels it.

He's still not familiar with it, that press of pheromone against his senses, but he recognises it from the last time. It's the wrong time for Emma to sway, her hand catching his arm for balance as she questions what's happening. The touch, even through his shirt, is enough to burn his nerves. At the best of times, Emma pushes his buttons just because she can; now her just standing there is pushing his buttons. Later, Ethan is going to kick Daken's ass.

But right then, he just pushes Emma into the wall, covering her body with his. "Why the hell don't you wear more clothes?" It's easy for his hand to trail over the exposed skin of her abdomen, "Why is everything so fucking skin tight?" Because it highlights everything, and while there is still enough left to the imagination, it's not hard to imagine; the sweet curve of her ass, the pleasant swell of her breasts, those toned, long legs. His hands ended up sliding over her body, cupping her ass, running down her thighs, pulling her legs apart and running back up her sides.

"I take it, from the groping, that this would be Daken's pheromone effect." Smart woman, Ethan just grunted his reply as she arched into his hands. "One of us should leave." And Ethan agreed completely, even as his right hand wound into her hair, pulling her head back and exposing that long line of her throat.

"Sure, let’s do that." He didn't move though, or he did, but he moved closer. Her legs spread around on of this thighs, her head back, Ethan stopped fighting the pheromone and dragged her in for a kiss; bruising, filthy, open and messy. Ethan took complete control and gave Emma no room to take it away.

God, it was like she was built for it, maybe she was, maybe her mind and skills were all just a front and this was really what she was meant to do. Open up under him and take it. Her frame shifted with his hands, hips pressing forward, back arching, face twisting with his hands, so fucking submissive that he could get off on that alone.

Except then she pushed and he stumbled back and then he was staring at pure diamond. She didn't look at all flustered and her eyebrow arched, how the hell did that work. "I think I'll leave then." And before he could even utter a word, she walked out and shut the door behind her. He'd would've worked up the energy to mind if part of his mind wasn't telling him this was better, even if it felt like he'd just been given a time out. "They'll let you out in five minutes." And this time, she sounded just as out of control as he'd been. Thank God for secondary mutations. Five minutes would give him time to get himself in order and plot revenge against Daken for this latest trick.

--

Jane:

One of the annoying things about assignments was the wait to return to base. Now that they had a pilot it wasn't usually an issue, but the weather in Florida was too dangerous to fly out which left the team of four staying over night in a down pour in Orlando. Caine and Carlysle were in a double three doors down, while Ethan took a twin single with Worth.

The pilot was currently in the shower, leaving Ethan in the main room on his own. It was hot and humid and Ethan was certain he'd never get any sleep. The shower had just switched on, and Ethan figured that Worth would be a while, so really, there wasn't any harm in working off some energy.

It was awkward at first, working with just saliva and trying not to shift too much under the covers. Glancing over at the closed bathroom door, Ethan took the chance and pushed the sheets down, slipping his boxers down slightly and taking himself in hand, starting with long, slow strokes. He shut his eyes, conjuring up random images as he built up the pace. So lost in the moment, Ethan didn't hear the shower switch off, or hear the bathroom door opening. It wasn't until Worth cursed that Ethan realised the other man was out of the bathroom, and apparently hopping on one foot. "Fuckin' desk."

Ethan couldn't exactly hide what he'd been doing, but apparently it had caught Worth by surprise and the pilot wound up stubbing his toe on the desk by the wall. "Um, I-" awkward wasn't a suitable word for it. "I'm- I mean I just-" Worth waved a hand, walking -or hobbling- to his own bed.

"Whatever, I served for nine months on an air craft carrier, you get used to it." And that was something Ethan hadn't really thought. Worth pulled out a pair of headphones and an iPod, putting the earphones on lying back on his bed. "Don't let me stop you."

It was hard to believe that Worth was serious, but he was just lying there, eyes shut with the music up loud enough that Ethan could hear it so it did appear that he was. Ethan was careful at first, working back into it. It should've been uncomfortable, with someone else in the room, but the only thing bothering him was the dry pull of his hand. When a bottle on lotion landed on his chest he started a bit, glancing over to the other bed, but it didn't look like Worth had moved.

Why the man had a- It dawned on Ethan then, remembering the way Worth had pulled a ragged bone from his side, skin torn and angry, after he'd been thrown into a wall by Juggernaut earlier. Probably to minimise scarring when he used his powers. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth, Ethan used a small amount, hand sliding over his length easier afterwards. Falling back into the rhythm came much easier than expected, Ethan flexing his hips into his hand, biting back the groans just to be polite, even as his thumb flicked over the head and he twisted his wrist around his cock.

He's gone in a matter of minutes, bone tired and relaxed. He's got enough sense of mind to clean himself up, tucking back into his boxers and curling under the sheets. He's half dozed off when he hears shifting, the music turning off and Worth switching off the last of the lights before turning in himself.

Ethan makes a mental note to see about getting a few more flying assignments for the Lieutenant as a thank you for the avoidance of too much embarrassment.

--

Jen:

The second he does it, he knows he's in big trouble. But Mac always gets the best alcohol and that's not his fault. He's not sure if it's Christmas, New Year, Easter, Thanksgiving or just a day of the month ending in 'y', but the party has probably gotten way out of hand and proof of that is him leaning against Barq for a moment too long and then turning his head to kiss her.

She's been a great friend though, she's been a great SIC, and he wouldn't ask for another in her place. But he really shouldn't be kissing her, and he really shouldn't be this drunk.

But he does and he is, and maybe it lasts a little too long, but it's something he'll deal with in the morning. Right then, it's just nice and warm and Ethan just doesn't care.

--

Jesse:

How he got talked into it, he has no idea. That's a lie, he does. He knows exactly how; Mac.

Mackenzie Richards is the reason he is in the garage, pressing Jesse Dylan against the side of Mac's busted old Mustang with his tongue down the Specialist's throat. He's not sure why she makes the dare, but both of them are far too stubborn to back down and it's probably a flaw.

It doesn't stop Ethan from putting his strength into holding Dylan where he is, doesn't stop him from slipping his tongue past parted lips and dragging the kid into a kiss, from pressing his hips into Dylan's, slipping his thigh between Dylan's parted legs and applying just enough pressure to have the kid rocking up into it.

The grunt and moan vibrates against his mouth and Ethan is shocked to find himself responding, hands pulling Dylan's hips forward, rubbing himself against the kid just the same as Dylan rubs against him.

"Um, guys? Boys? You two? That's been like...ten minutes." The dare was two. Shit.

"Shut up, Mac, you set the dare." And frankly, it's her own fault if he wants to get her boyfriend off.

--

Julio:

"What in Gods name are you doing? Get up, right now. Hey, stop that, Richter, stop-" The Mexican just grins from his knees, hands not stopping at all.

"I love it when you call me by my last name." And then his mouth his busy and Ethan loses all train of thought. Holy shit, the-- Fuck he was actually-- God that was sinful.

For whatever reason, Ethan stopped trying to push Richter away, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes as the Mexican went to work. Fuck, went to work with his mouth in an entirely more acceptable way that he usually did. Fuck, this was why Frost had insisted on picking out their wardrobe. Fucking telepath and her fucking games. But hell if Richter's mouth wasn't made for this. Warm and wet and Ethan was pretty sure there was no sign of a gag reflex at all.

It was too much of a struggle not to push his hands into that mass of messy hair right there and Ethan wasn't that good at restraint. If anything, Richter just opened his mouth wider; doing something with his tongue that sent sparks through Ethan. Vibrations danced along his nerves and Ethan took a minute to figure out just how Richter was doing that until it dawned. "God, you're still fucking talking, aren't you." It made sense, the movement, the little vibrations, fuck if it wasn't working though.

Ethan made every attempt not to just let go and fuck Richter's face, his hand directing the Mexican to take more, to go a little faster. There was that tongue thing again and then added suction and Ethan was gone. Richter just swallowed around him, licking along his length, cleaning up and tucking Ethan away while the Captain caught his breath.

"Lovely show," Frost appeared entirely too smug for the middle of an assignment in a sex club but Ethan was still gathering his wits about him. "I got what we need, nice distraction technique." Her hand petted along Richter's cheek, her thumb swiping at a little moisture on his lips and Ethan realised belatedly just what that was. When he did, Richter already had his tongue in Frost's mouth and she had her hand down his pants and Ethan felt the first stirrings of arousal all over again.

God damn this assignment was fucked up.

--

Lorna:

When the door first opened, he thought it was just Frost come to annoy him again. But she didn't say anything, and she always had something to say. So when the door closed, and the lock clicked into place, Ethan looked up and found the green haired one -Dane, standing there, a smirk on her face that looked like it came directly from Frost.

Shit.

"Can I help you, Dane?" First of all, she was out of uniform, wearing some ivory wrap around dress and platform heels, secondly, he had a meeting in ten minutes and he didn't have time for any little issues. "Of could you take this to Miss Frost?"

The smirk didn't move from her lips, and she moved around his desk. His chair moved on its own and for a moment he was shocked, until he remembered -Polaris, magnetic manipulation. "Emma and I aren't like that." Before he could ask what she meant, Dane had her wrap around dress dropped to the floor and she was straddling his lap. "I think, considering, you should call me Lorna."

"What do you think you-" his breath left him as she shimmied her hips, rubbing against his crotch in just her white lacy underwear. Her tongue flicked at his ear, warm breath against his skin and Ethan's hands shifted to push her out of his lap. At that moment, the chair shifted again, swinging around and sliding in to the desk, effectively pinning Dane in his lap. Any other situation and he might've been impressed with her control over her powers.

"Aren't you stressed, sir?" Her voice is a honey purr against his ear, and he's red blooded like any male, with a lap full of half naked woman, of course there's a reaction. "Don't you think you should relax?" And that is definitely Dane's hand stroking him through his slacks, hand curling around his slowly hardening length. He can't not press his hips up into the touch, leaning back in the chair to give a little more access. His hands slid down her legs, spread over his lap, stroking the curve of her calf just as she strokes him to full hardness. "Do you want me to help you?" Her hand squeezes, making him hiss slightly, "I could slip under the desk, take care of this for you. It would really help you unwind, wouldn't it?"

Ethan can't answer, he can't tell her to do it or order her to put on her clothes and leave, because right at that second his intercom buzzes. "Captain Sykes, your three o'clock is here, I'll send them in." Shit, he'd told Margaret just to send them in when they arrived. He's about to call her back, tell her something came up when the chair pushes out and Dane climbs from his lap.

"Oops, sorry." Her dress is on in a matter of seconds and she's just leaving as three Military personnel walk in. "Gentlemen," Dane gives a sweet smile and dip of her knee that almost looks like a curtsy as she leaves and Ethan catches sight of her walking past Emma and the pair of them sharing a high five.

God, he could kill one of them.

--

Mac:

"Fuck, shit, Ethan."

"Hands on the desk." He stills his movements, waiting for her to comply before moving again. She whines even as she does it, and Ethan starts the slow thrusts again, drawing out before pushing back in with a steady force. It's no where near enough to get either of them where they want to be, but it's driving her crazy and Ethan knows it.

"Please, fuck, Ethan please." His hand meets her ass with a loud smack and her whimper is just as satisfying.

"Watch your mouth, Sergeant." And he smacks her again for good measure, getting a jerk out of her, pushing off their rhythm and making her clench around him. It's too much, and they've been at that brink of it for ages. He sits back, pulling her with him, until he's seated in his chair and she's seated on his lap. "Just like this, come on, baby, work for it."

Her muscles tighten around him, even as she pushes herself up and back down, impaling herself fully and whining in the back of her throat. "Christ, so fucking good."

His hand pulls her head back with a grip on her hair, "What was that?"

"So fucking good, sir." His hips press up to meet her pace, hand slipping down to flick her clit piercing, sending her muscles into spasms as she spirals over the edge, clenching around him and pulling him along.

Sweaty and sated, she stays exactly where she is, his softening cock still pressed deep in her as they lay around in his office, completely naked. "I kinda dig this role play stuff."

"You're insane." He just presses a kiss to her jaw.

--

Marie:

"Darkholme, I'm glad I got to speak to you."

"Captain?" The Christmas party probably wasn't the best place to be doing this, but he really hadn't had any other opportunity.

"I understand you're one of the subjects testing out Dr Price's mutant power inhibitor, I was just wondering-"

"Coming through!" Ethan put a hand on Darkholme's elbow directing her to the side as Richter, LeVoch and Clark ran past them, coolers full of beer in their arms.

"Sorry, I was just wondering if-"

"Hey! Marie! Look up!" If the rest of the team would just let him get through a conversation with the girl, they could have her back. He was about to shout over to Martinez to give them a minute when he noticed that Darkholme was blushing.

"Ah think we should move," she said, pointing upwards and Ethan noticed he'd moved them under the mistletoe that Mac and Richter had littered around the place.

"Oh." Mac was rather serious about mistletoe -even though it was a poisonous weed- and Ethan knew if she heard that he'd moved out of the way with Darkholme she'd probable beat him about the head with a Santa hat. "Um, Merry Christmas." She had the inhibitor, so there really wasn't anything wrong with leaning down, arm around her waist to pull her up the little distance and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

It wasn't like she really got the chance to do such things regularly.

"Ah- yeah, Merry Christmas." Ethan decided that he could wait until after the party to ask her how the test with the inhibitor was going.

--

Mark:

It came, as like many things with Martinez, like a bolt from the blue.

On moment Ethan is sitting in the mess, minding his own business and reading the paper, the next he is pulled back, gripped in a tight hold and kissed.

The strangest thing is the fact that it's Martinez. Ethan doesn't get any time to react whatever way he might've been reacting, before he's released.

"There, now we've all kissed him." He can't quite understand, because Richter and Mayspring are sort of standing there, staring at Martinez. "What?"

"Um, loco, no one mentioned anything about Sykes," Mayspring nodded beside Richter and Ethan felt the confusion just building. "And neither of us has kissed him."

Ethan beat a hasty retreat when the Cheshire cat grin spread over Mayspring's painted white face.

--

Sarah:

Panicking empaths were not a good thing. Frost had warned him about taking Mayspring without Richter, but the Mexican was laid up with a broken foot and there was no way they could chance it. They needed Mayspring to keep control of the masses and now that they had got what they needed he'd thought they were fine. Except someone tripped the alarm and Mayspring had panicked and everything went nut.

The other half of the team got out, but Ethan had needed to drag Mayspring into the adjoining building. The found an office supply room and hid there, Mayspring huddling in the corner and steadying her breathing. Ethan felt the panic around her subside so he left her to do what she needed to do. Until someone started turning the handle on the door. Pushing the empath through the only other door in the room, Ethan and Mayspring were huddled inside a stationary closet.

There was no noise from the photocopy room, and Ethan was just about to open the door when Mayspring slapped a hand over her mouth and stared at the door. He was about to ask what was wrong when her heard it, a soft giggle followed by a moan. The tell tale sounds of a creaking table and gasping breath followed and Ethan barely held back a grumble. They'd just have to wait it out.

Mayspring had a hand over her mouth, the other over her eyes and was shaking her head. He wasn't exactly sure if he should ask, but he was a little confused as to what was wrong. Until he felt the small, creeping tendril of something along his spine. It wasn't quite like Daken's pheromone power, but definitely similar, and that was when he realised she was filtering through the lust from the pair in the copy room. "Mayspring, you need to- May- Ophelia!" He had to hiss at her, even as he felt the lust and arousal build up and damn, why did they need to be in a closet and why did this happen to him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he couldn't stop his hands reaching for her slim, delicate waste, not with the heavy, hot, muggy heat there in the space, not with the way she practically mewled with it and melted into his grip, the way her skin was so soft. His mouth fastened to her neck, hands skimmed over her breasts, one moving to cup her ass and pull her flush with him. She was thrumming, this sparking sort of feeling running through his hands just from touching her and Ethan felt like he'd been drugged with it.

There was a thump and a slam and suddenly everything switched off and Ethan had to draw away from her carefully. He wasn't sure if it was possible to hurt her feelings with a rejection, but as he moved back, sheepish and a little out of breath, Ophelia just smiled carefully at him before leaning up to pat his head.

"Coast is clear, they've had their fun, shall we get back on the run?" And God was that a good idea.

--

Spencer:

The annoying thing about getting caught in a hallway with Daken when he was in a mood was the awkward situations that arose.

What was really going to be hard to explain would be the fact that Ethan had practically body checked the first person in the hall, pinning them to the wall and kissing whoever it was. He's insistent, maybe a little forceful, but there's a whine and a moan and a response from it. Lips opening against his and Ethan takes instant possession of a warm, pliant mouth. His hands frame a slightly rough jaw, shifting into soft, short hair. Definitely male.

He coaxes participation from his partners tongue, tangling and licking through the others mouth as he shifts his weight to allow some movement from the other body. And then, as suddenly as it came on, the mood sort of dissipates just a little and Ethan's mouth turns gentle before he slowly draws away. He's a little breathless, and when he sees Spencer, just as breathless with swollen red lips, he feels reality slip back.

Ethan wonders if he's just earned himself a harassment suit or if Daken is going to be getting another talk about personal liberties and how he can't just whammy people with sex pheromones for the sake of it. "Um, I'm sorry?"

Trip just nods, "Yeah, um...Daken?" And Ethan just returns to nod. "I'm just going to," Spencer points down the hall, likely the way he's just come from and Ethan nods again, stepping back and giving the reporter space. Once Spencer is out of sight, Ethan turns on his heel and heads to Daken's room.

--

St John:

The laughter is just completely uncontrollable, and Ethan thinks that he should think himself lucky that there is no way Pyro's lighters work right now. "Does this look like I'm amused? Because I'm not? This is extreme non-amusement." Ethan really can't stop; he's close to doubling over.

"I can't- you just- it's like those old cheesy horror movies." Pyro is too busy blowing the mud out of his nostrils to really work up a glare, and even then, covered from head to toe in mud, it really wouldn't do much.

With a half grin, Pyro blows the mud away from his mouth, speckling Ethan's shirt with it and Ethan doesn't even care. "I'm telling Mac you got me filthy before we drove back, you're gonna be the reason she's got tonnes of dried mud to clean out of the Hummer and your gonna be in big trouble."

"Okay, okay," because Allerdyce has a point, and Mac loves those Hummers, there is no way Ethan is going to take one back to her in that state. "Lets get some of this cleaned off." It's just their luck that the training camp took a torrential downpour over the weekend and the place turned into nothing but a mud swamp. Using his hands, Ethan started to try and swipe the mud from Pyro's shoulders. He wasn't exactly heavy handed, but then, Pyro hated touching at the best of times, flinching away from the littlest of thing, even just a nudge from Mac.

"Hands, hands to yourself. We have discussed this and you constantly forget. I have personal space, you are in it, get out. Now, out, out out." If Ethan had the time or patience, he might see about addressing Pyro's touch issues.

"Fine, but that just means we have one alternative."

The alternative, it turns out, might be worst than the touching. "I hate you. I hate you so much it burns." Ethan just shrugs a shoulder and turns on the hose, soaking Pyro from head down. He's a little surprised that there's steam, but then, Pyro has that elevated temperature and the water is freezing cold, at least he hopes this means there's less chance of hypothermia setting in before they get back to camp.

When most of the mud is gone, Ethan drops the hose and bites back another laugh. "You're like a drownt pup." The glare is only slightly better without the mud, but still somewhat ruined by the sopping wet hair and shivering.

"Hate. You." Ethan ignores Pyro's personal space issues again to grab a towel and quickly rub his hair, then shoulders before wrapping the towel around him and pulling him towards the car. "Fuck sake, Sykes, hands!" Allerdyce walks the last of the way himself before huddling in the front seat while Ethan gets them back to camp.

It only takes five minutes but Allerdyce bitches the whole way. "Next time the words training exercise come out of your mouth I am setting fire to your office, I don't care if you are in it. And if you do it again, I'll burn down the fucking training camp. Or the kitchen. Probably not the kitchen, cause that chef is fucking scary. He's like Martha Stewart on crack. Maybe Betty White's test tube created, gender altered clone." Ethan isn't even really listening, but the fact that Allerdyce is still talking counts for something.

He's still shivering when they get out of the Hummer outside the dorms. "I thought you ran hotter than normal?"

"Yeah, but it makes me more susceptible to the cold." His teeth were chattering and there was definitely a blue tint to his lips. "You fucking hosed me down with freezing cold water, you ass."

"The only reason you're getting away with this is because you're going to catch a death of cold."

"Sorry, should I care? I am freezing here. It's your fault. I'm telling Mac."

"Would you stop using her as a threat?" Because the annoying thing was that is would work. Ethan angled Pyro into his room, noticing that the touching lecture wasn't coming up. Pushing the kid into the bathroom, Ethan turned on the shower as hot as it would go before pulling Pyro's t-shirt off his head and letting it drop to the floor with a slap. "Kick your shoes off." Shaking on a little, Pyro followed directions, and Ethan got his sodden jeans half way off before Pyro started flailing.

"Right, right, right. At my limit, fuck off. I'm good. Go, shoo, scram." Since Allerdyce managed to kick his jeans off and sort of shuffle to the shower, Ethan conceded and started to leave.

"I'm going to check on you in forty minutes."

"I'm going to burn off your hair."

Yeah. The kid was fine.

--

Letter Meme; day five

icecoldwit — Mon, 02 May 2011 11:29:15 GMT

Day 5 — Your dreams

Tad warped, aren’t they. Mutant liberation isn’t there, superiority isn’t there. Once it would’ve five months, a year, ten years. Imagine if I’d gotten what I so desperately craved then. No doubt we wouldn’t be here today, wishing and hoping.

I’ll take another, I don’t mind.
I’ll try again. Someday.

Emma.

Letter Meme; day four

icecoldwit — Sun, 01 May 2011 21:11:11 GMT

Day 4 — Your sibling

Cordelia;

You get the same warning Adrienne did. Stay out of my way.

You may be aware, dearest Ri didn’t believe me when I warned her of my seriousness. Surely you’re bright enough to heed the warning, hmm? If not, well, I’m sure the family plot has space for one more, Delia.

Christian;

I’m sorry.

I miss you.

Emmy.

Emma Frost; the early years

icecoldwit — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 19:17:33 GMT

This girl is the wild smile, the icy stare
She's the crackle of the static, she's the curses, she's the prayers
This girl is the junkie in the children's matinee
She's the 4 minute warning, she is hell to pay

Emma Frost

	FULL NAME: Emma Frost
	NICKNAMES: Ems, Emmy, Bitch
	DATE OF BIRTH: June 2nd
	CURRENT AGE: 22
	GENDER: Female
	PLACE OF BIRTH: Massachusetts

	MARITAL STATUS: Single
	SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
	OCCUPATION: Dancer
	RESIDENCE: Manhattan, New York
	MUTANT LEVEL: Alpha
	MUTANT POWER: Telepath

APPEARANCE

Never really worrying about her looks, Emma has the self-confidence and the know-how to carry off her rich-girl blonde look with little problem. Always aware that she is, what many call a knock-out, Emma doesn't truly have body issues. She's tall, blonde and toned.

Her light skin sets off her hair with a radiance, Emma's blue eyes only emphasising the fact that she has an almost angelic face. With bow lips and perfect teeth, Emma's smile can light up a room and she is well aware of it. While she's not terribly endowed in the chest area, Emma makes up for it with long, toned legs, a butt to die for and the know how to use it.

She may consider plastic surgery in the future, just to emphasis her natural beauty. After all, she's already dying her hair from it's original brown to blonde.

PERSONALITY

Emma is ambitious, manipulative and just a tad vain. Years of rejection from her parents hardened her heart, honing her manipulative ways and drive to get what she wanted, whatever way necessary. Typically a cold hearted, she is fiercely competitive and self confident, her powers building steadily and proving to make her one of the most noted telepaths in the world. While her powers are very similar to Charles Xavier's, Emma Frost lacks the same basic morals and has in the past abused her powers for her own benefit. Unconcerned with scruples or morals, Emma is known to exploit her own abilities to gain her own desires.

While she has the brains to secure herself intellectually, Emma falls on her charm, wit and looks. Emma can, has and will, use her sexuality to get what she wants. She thrives on the power she can obtain through it. Of course, Emma does have a persuasive way with words; practically willing to get her own way, whatever way, Emma will bend the truth as much as needed, and possibly keep her word if it works well for her own drives.

Her genius intellect and savvy business sense make her a dangerous young woman, but a valuable commodity. Getting her foot in the door of the Hellfire Club as a dancer, Emma is already sure to be rubbing elbows with very influential people and it's a matter of time before she uses that to her own advantage. She has a very dry-wit and is a very proud and self-sufficient woman. Having relied on people in the past and been burned, Emma tends to close off from trusting people, making it difficult to trust her in return. While she can appear loyal, it is never truly known if she will remain that way.

Emma's only true concern is her own ends, and if she need to go to extreme measures to get them, she will.

HISTORY

Emma Grace was born into the very wealthy Frost family, daughter to the powerful, cold, ruthless and domineering Winston and his highly medicated and unsupportive wife Hazel. Emma did not get along well with her father, or her sisters, Adrienne and Cordelia, however she did have a good relationship with her brother, Christian. While growing up Emma received little support from her family, and strived to meet her father's far too high expectations. It was in high school that Emma developed her mutant powers, discovering she could read peoples minds, she discovered that her teacher, Ian, believed she was beautiful and intelligent, after he drove her home one day, she kissed him. But Adrienne recorded it, and Winston used it to get Ian fired. With the internal backstabbing of her sister Adrienne and her father's underhanded tactics, Emma quickly learned the art of blackmail and sneaky deviousness. When her father saw that she was a lot like he was in his youth -cunning, ambitious and intelligent, he proposed that Emma would carry forth his fortune and empire. However, Emma was bitter and angry towards Winston for his dismissal of his gay son, placing him in a mental facility rather than accept that Christian was gay. Emma left her family, leaving the wealth and security of her father’s money and ended up homeless for a while.

It was on the streets that she met Troy, an attractive man who offered to let her live with him. Emma later found out that Troy owed money to a local mobster, Lucien. Emma devised a plan in which she was held to ransom, so that her father would pay off the last of Troy's debt. Winston refused to pay and Troy was killed. Lucien planned to kill Emma, until Adrienne leaked the ransom demand to the press, forcing Winston to pay the ransom. Lucien got the money, but still intended to kill Emma. It was then that Emma used her still growing telepathic and psychic powers to turn the mobsters on each other, and convincing the others to release her.

Emma took the money and enrolled in University. It was here that she met Ian once again, and a fellow telepath, Astrid Bloom, who mentored her in using her abilities. Still in love with Ian, Emma and he began dating, until Emma discovered that Ian had attacked her roommate, much like Emma had been previously by a basketball player. It didn't take long for Emma to discover that Astrid was behind each attack, her mental manipulation of each male forcing them to attack the women. Enraged, Emma attacked Astrid with her powers, leaving her friend comatose. When Emma revealed her mutant powers to Ian, he rejected her. Emma lost her faith in humans and closed herself off to them.

Now, with her qualifications set and her powers blooming, Emma ended up in New York. With money being tight and her foot hold being weak, Emma did what she had to do and became a dancer for the elite Hellfire Club, using her powers to secure her the job and win favour with several of the higher ranking members within the Club. She doesn't intend on dancing for the Club forever, but it's a start. She just needs to get her claws into the right people.

RANDOM FACTS

♦ smokes for effect

♦ isn't a real blonde

♦ has a masters in sociology

♦ adores D&G shoes and handbags

♦ cannot abide instant coffee

♦ is a hedonist

♦ doesn't like falling in love

♦ much prefers falling in lust

♦ has a 'thing' for older men

♦ has no moral scruples for psychic eavesdropping

♦ questionable method of supplementing her income

	PLAYER: K
	AGE: 24
	EMAIL: torncorpse@gmail.com
	AIM: squidded
	CDJ: squidded
	PB: Amber Heard

Letter Meme; day three

icecoldwit — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 18:31:17 GMT

Day 3 — Your parents

Perhaps if, once in a while, you came out of your drink induced haze you would’ve realised just how much you had right in front of you. But then, that would’ve meant putting the glass down. Wouldn’t it.

Look at what you made. Aren’t you proud?

No, I didn’t think so.

Yours,
Rebellious Little Emma.

Letter Meme; day two

icecoldwit — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 20:13:16 GMT

Day 2 — Your Crush

It’s foolish. Probably a little dangerous. At times I hardly care, but you’re you and I’m me and there’s always an issue.

It doesn’t stop me listening to your thoughts, and smiling.

Letter Meme; day one

icecoldwit — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 12:35:59 GMT

Day 1 — Your Best Friend

Shockingly enough, I never had a best friend before you.

I had friends, but most of the time I was using them, or they were using me, and so long as it's mutually beneficial, it didn't matter. Why you had to be different beats me, but you are.

If anyone hurts you, I'll destroy them. If anyone threatens you, I'll rip them apart. All you ever have to do is ask, for anything, and I'll make a point of helping you. I'll always be here for you, regardless.

You mean too much for anything less to never be enough.

Always;
Emma.

Letter Meme

icecoldwit — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 23:23:08 GMT

Because clearly, I am a masochist.

Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favourite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favourite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

Ten Day Meme; day ten

icecoldwit — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 18:06:05 GMT

Day Ten: One confession

Things would be so much easier if I've never joined in the first place. But I can't make myself regret any of it.

Ten Day Meme; day nine

icecoldwit — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 11:07:03 GMT

Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.

Utter Chaos; it's not exactly a difficult thread to grasp. The chaos represents the pure chaos that is currently my working life.

Well, frankly I don't feel I have to explain this. So I'm not going to.

Ten Day Meme; day eight

icecoldwit — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 08:00:52 GMT

Day Eight: Three turn ons.

Assertiveness; when I push, someone needs to push back. Otherwise, it's just no fun.

Strong will; in case it hasn't been noticed, I generally get what I want, but pandering just annoys me.

Power. I'll be honest, nothing gets me hotter.