X Men A Lover Loves

Disclaimer: Characters portrayed in the following are not mine and I did not create them.

A lover loves:

Sometime after my confrontation with the Shadow King, I was unfaithful to Warren. Having imprisoned his dark majesty in the confines of my telepathy I was left head-blind; devoting an ounce of my mental prowess would unleash him. Without a conscious receiver in my head, I picked up little thoughts but those reeling off in my own brain. I found it grossly unsettling, my capabilities in question and my tenure with the X-Men effectively over. Part of the problem was the lack of anticipatory awareness, a subconscious connection held with opponents and friends alike that made me all the faster and sweeter. I became slow at countering, judging moves and expressions, people's emotions and attitudes and even the tell produced in an instant before battle. I am a ninja, but no longer the best there is at what I do. I was sloppy.

That was some time ago. I have compensated for those insufficiencies since. This story comes about because I was distanced from Warren in much the same way he was from me with the return of his feathered wings. I loved him, at the time, but we were growing apart, the features that defined us originally now changing into features we had not fallen in love with. It was difficult. I must admit I was somewhat jaded after the Crimson Dawn, and felt that life was a jewel to be constantly worn and paraded, inspiring and extravagant. It was a thing of beauty and as such deserving of adrenaline and adventure and challenges and limits and the scent of night, cold and filled with possibilities. His view was one of the freedom to go back to his roots. In a way, much of the breakdown of our relationship originated with the moulting of his metallic wings. The man I had fallen for rarely broke the surface. I liked his hurt puppy aggression. He was the victim as I was, and the rage and impotence made him into a thing of zest and violence. He was bitter and savage and fiercely loyal and so stoic when in the part of playboy businessman. Warren was rich and luxurious and outgoing and dangerous and had everything in the palm of his hand taken away. A story with which I could identify. But it was always a little bit fake, because we both knew that we could set ourselves straight if we wanted, we just chose the path of most resistance because we were arrogant and headstrong and both thrill-seekers.

But like the seasons come and go, so do our emotions. We fall in and out of love, one committing more than the other and vice versa. In those times of sickness, when I was exposed to the Crimson Dawn, I must say that he was more in love with me than I was with him. It is a woman's nature I suppose to have little idea of her own desires. I knew many an example in Paris and Brasilia, Milan and New York. Girls would flaunt their wares and wind up heart-broken or the only romance known one of a chemical infatuation. Fleeting feelings blithely acted upon and regretted at leisure. Funny how the heart works. Back then, I did love him. Maybe not in the way I should have, but we were still connected, and I needed his companionship more than I ever had before. And at best he was able to provide it briefly, soon retreating out of fear and also in part because he no longer felt the way he had. I was a burden perhaps. So be it, I was half a person and I knew that.

My needs blossomed into different territory that day though; I'm not sure what came over me. The only reason I say so now is because my time with Warren is at an end and to be honest I am comfortable with what happened. It meant nothing but friendship and closeness to another human-being: big for my heart but little for my head. A bit hazy on the exact details, it goes somewhat like this:

I was coming up the stairs to her loft, hoping that she was in and not out bickering with Marrow or the new recruits. No longer confident of anything save my own deficiency, the water came easily to my eyes, a sting where the make-up infringed on the lid. I was in pain, a cramp in my gut from anguish. The last few steps were killers. I tried to stifle the soft heaving but I must say I was breaking down, and the loft stairs were shut, blocking yet another entrance to poor Elisabeth Braddock. I remember hearing Bobby then, from around and down the stairs and I turned my back so that if he were to come upstairs, god forbid he wouldn't, I could at least shield myself. Then the loft steps touched the carpet quietly and I about-faced to Ororo's kindly eyes. She was perched in the most delicate silken raiment, slack and airy whilst hugging her body where it needed to. She held me, and my tears dripped onto the thick plated gold necklace set around her chest. I recall it's fantastic intricate engravings, the Malian symbols of Gnu and Hornbill struck against the spear of man. She stroked my hair. 'Whatever is the matter Elisabeth?' And my stomach churned forth a stream of tensions and confessions, my inadequacies and fears and guilt at such a stupid display of arrogance. Not only had I lost my telepathy, but in keeping the Shadow King locked away I was losing my influence of the shadows themselves and fighting in the danger room so poorly my bruises may as well have been self-inflicted. They were, I suppose; like I required punishment for being so so silly.

'Shhhh,' she said 'it's what we do Elisabeth. It's why you are an X-Man whether you are in the active team or not. We sacrifice ourselves because we can.'

'But I'm not going to stay in the team, am I,' I sobbed 'I have nothing left to fight with! I am without my defences and without my brains and powers; I can't last five minutes at anything!'

'Our powers are a part of us, but they do not define us. Every exit Elisabeth is simply a doorway to somewhere and something else.'

Very different from what Warren had said: 'What do you want me to do about it? You can still fight, can't you? You're a ninja for Christ's sakes. We're all about adapting and changing, you'll just have to adjust!'

'But what if I can't adapt, Ororo, what if what comes next is something I hate, something I don't know how to do? What if I don't know how to adapt anymore? What if I can't change?'

'Life is change, Betsy,' she said 'if we do not change we stagnate and die. It is in our very nature to change. You will do it without knowing you are doing it.' Her raised finger interrupted me. 'All the adjustments you have made so far: you're joining the X-Men all those years ago, the Siege Perilous and our radical transformations thereafter, the swap with Kwannon, everything is change and you have adjusted accordingly. Do not let your own fears get the better of you. You are one of the most well-adjusted and secure people I have ever known. Moments of doubt penetrate even the strongest minds from time to time, but I have every confidence you shall break through stronger than before. You must remain confident in your own capacity for change. Ready for anything. Isn't that how you have lived all these years?'

'But I can't hear a thing Ororo. I can't sense those closest to me, what they're feeling, what they're thinking, what I'm projecting to them, to the world. How I see myself is now limited to only my opinions. I am disabled...'

'Some people would say that is a good thing; to go through life unaware of another's perceptions on a most intimate level. And how is this something you cannot conform to? You have always come through, I know you better than anyone!'

'It is so much of whom I am, Ororo,' I said 'I feel like my identity has dissolved.'

'You must learn to simply reinforce your own standing among others by what you alone know. You are you because of you, not because of the others plus you.'

I went quiet then, sniffling and tightly holding her frame. Her hands stroked my hair; much like Warren had many moons ago. I suspect Ororo knew most of this had come from him, and my own anxieties toward not being good enough for him. Much of it was guilt at the arrogance and security I had felt, so sure he was bound tightly to me. Now it was all in question as I no longer knew how he felt; I had to be told, and he was backing away saying it lower and lower and quieter and quieter. Strange how like the seasons our love for one another shifts and rotates. I think he knew he wanted out when he got his original wings back. I was a problem he could fly away from, and he knew it right on the surface. Was it loyalty driving his commitment through the Crimson Dawn? I think it was. He is not shallow, but I was never the love of his life, and he, mine? No I don't think so either. Long ago, I had given up believing we would be together forever.

Ororo must've felt a few fresh tears as she held my face in her palms, rough from the digging of earth. Her prints of soil were on my cheek bones. 'You are Betsy Braddock.' She said. I almost laughed. But her expression and warmth and bottomless vacuum of her eyes pulled a passion from my depths. I was overcome with love and understanding and a bond forged between nights spent cold and huddled in foxholes and those of brandy and the opening of gifts around a full overflowing tree. In all the time since, I cannot explain what happened. She was beautiful, glowing with vitality and confidence I lacked at the time, comfort and closeness I wished to engulf and assume. I was transfixed and in that instant reached out with my mouth to kiss her. I don't know why she let me. She was soft and rich, the plush of her darkened lips and skin of salt and earth welcoming and magical. I was intoxicated and kept kissing her, Ororo letting me, kissing back and then entwining her hands into my hair; I felt it pass my scalp and cup my neck sending this exciting electricity down my spine. Why was she doing this? Why was I doing this? Maybe she was simply there for me where all others had drawn away. Did it mean anything to her? I still don't know. If it had been Warren or Scott or Logan I would've said their name, held my palms at their chest absorbing heat from their heart and inhaling the smell of grease and oil, twilight mist and woodland, grasped at their groin and held on as they had their way with me. Ororo was going to be different, and I knew it then and there. In that momentary invasion of normalcy I knew we would make love as lovers but care and understand as friends. A lover loves, we were doing something else.

I felt her hands draw down my shoulder blades, the contact tangible through the fabric of my shozoku. I don't believe she was using her powers at the time, but it felt electric, revitalising my muscles with tenderness and intimacy and igniting an animal movement within my womb. I paused between kisses, her lips so soft and delicate I felt the sun glowing through then, and removed her hair band, the lockpicks and trinkets balanced there chiming as I laid it next to us. Her head wrapped around mine, our fingers gaining speed as they began to explore and pass each bump and dip, feeling, probing and digging into one another. The silver hair, long, reaching past her shoulders concealed my hands as they worked to undo the gold chain around her chest. I heard her make noises as she leant in again to kiss me, her tongue brushing my lips and mine in her mouth, the flutter of our eyes some radical butterfly motion. I could smell too many scents conflicting in her, hard to pin down; juniper and sandalwood other clouds present in the loft cornucopia. I found it hard to concentrate, her hands rested on my thighs all of a sudden, strong grip as I undid the tie for the chain and plucked it over her head carefully. She pulled away to let it over her and then stopped to gaze into my eyes. A heady fog between us, I refused to stop for inhibition and got up to move into her. She stepped back as I approached and I pinned her wrists to the wall of the loft, turning her head to expose a long black neck. I suckled there, her loose blouse wafting in the skylight breeze and capturing her sensitised moan and bringing it to my ears. 'Betsy,' she said, giving off a stronger scent now than before. I spread her knees a little with my right leg, dominant and erotic. She turned back to face me, a darkened lust dragging at her eyes and snarling mouth. I saw her lick her lips as I bent my head to lick and nip at the top of her chest.

She panted and pushed at my straightened pinning arms. I relented and she opened her legs wider, the apex of her thighs parallel to mine and took off her top. Unlike many I have been with I didn't stop to gaze at her breasts, but simply took to them, another part of her natural beauty hypnotising me. They were plump and sweet, smelling of the warmth of the sun and the taste of hot skin. Her released arms encircled me as I led my mouth down to suck and bite her right nipple. My left hand groped at the other breast forcefully, I saw her neck strain and the tickle of her silver hair on my bent shoulders made me shiver. She sensed a moment of weakness in me then and took advantage, pulling at the knot of purple ribbon on my wrist and unravelling it in slow-motion. I let her and then pulled at the tie behind my neck. The ceremonial wrap slid off -- I take care of my skin with oils and such -- and I stood with her topless and tangled up.

Ororo took that opportunity to lead me over to her bed, a humble arrangement neatly done with linen sheets folded and a solitary pillow. Like she never expected company. She sat us down at the edge and proceeded to lay me down, resting over belly to belly and breast to breast, our embrace furious and messy. I left a lasting smudge of purple on her neck just to the left of her jawbone, the taste and suck of female skin something I had never had. Her hands left my breasts for a moment; already I regretted their departure as her squeeze was so fucking nice. They made down my waist and belly smoothing and massaging the skin to my underwear while I shivered and my mind went blank with expectancy. I was totally alive and then her fingers were around my vagina, had she taken off my panties, I couldn't remember solidly and they were invading the lines and creases in the meet off my legs, touching the v of hair and sliding down to my anus and sweating buttocks. I couldn't believe it! Her entire body shifted downwards, clambering off my belly and thighs and dragging her breasts over the ribbons on my legs, I can only imagine the grating on her nipples. She was all at once intrusive and rough and I was very vocal about it, the entire build-up one long heady kiss before nakedness and now this: Ororo's tender fingers caressing my inner thighs, tickling the skin and drawing all manner of sensation out of my leaking cunt. I was moving too, I didn't realise at the time, and then her jaw was at my clitoris sucking at my tiny bud and making me vibrate with an intensity previously unfelt. I was shouting out, I had no idea, no-one had ever done it quite like that before. I tangled my fingers in her hair, oh Jesus, that felt incredible, and constant lick and lathe and pressure all around my clit, holeeeeeee fuck, 'ungh, Ororo... ha-unghhhhhhh' her finger was at the entrance to my cunt pressing like the other one at my sphincter, both threatening to dig in, finger me till I came all over her mouth like I knew I was desperate to. She was humming and I felt the vibrations shiver into my belly, my hands sweaty and pale dug at my breasts viciously, pawing them, swathing them, I spat on my fingers -- oh Jesus -- and straight to my right nipple, it always makes me hornier than the left and tweaked violently pulling it up and grabbing roughly I felt like coming so hard, and her fingers were dipping in and out of each muscle, the lashing of her tongue and all I could see was the intent of her eyes as her forehead moved slightly before what came over was a bloodrush and I was uuunnnnnngggghhh coming I was coming so hard aaaaahhhhhh no-one ever licking me like that before I was coming and Ororo was doing it, my best friend was in me such a tongue on my clit I was going to pass out and I felt a release of something right in my gut before she made a surprised noise and then her fingers were shooting in and out of my ass and pussy so easily I was aaaahhh-hhhhhaa still coming again and again and making so much noise about it.

When I finally had calmed down, I felt the adrenaline fire in me, like I always do after great head. My legs ached with tension, and I reached over to guide her face up, a stain of something being licked up by her tongue, we kissed sloppily and I could taste my own come in her mouth. She kneeled on the side of the mattress and kicked off her trousers, naked underneath and when I touched her thighs I could feel something slick there too. We lay atop each other for a second, kissing and scrambling our hands, the ribbons on my limbs still present but for the one round her arm. She let it droop a little and I tied my hand in it, joining us now at the wrist and also where she straddled my waist, her wet cunt moist and slippery on my belly. 'That was so good,' I said 'I can still feel it.'

She smiled and drew the other left hand down my eyebrow and cheek to my mouth, finger resting on my tongue.

'You don't have to return the favour.' She said, though I knew she wanted me to. Storm may have been our leader, but she was a woman of heart as well, and I knew she wanted me to want to stick my fingers inside of her and make her cry out like I had.

So I planted my hands on her buttocks, motioning her further up my body where she came to rest with her hair cascading down over mine and two hands pinned next to my head and raised just enough on her knees that her pussy with its scent of lust was in reach of my tongue. I so wanted to bury myself in there, to be assertive and creative and just as horny and vital as she had. I put my mouth to that mound, the skin black in what little light penetrated the veil of our long hair. She made an excited exhale and tensed her entire lower body, waiting for that lick and suck for so long she was going to come if I thought about it hard enough. I licked, tentative. I wondered how Warren did it, and thought of all the times he has made me come with his tongue and fingers and how easy it came to him and then of course to me. In fact it was instinctual, and power derived from need and requirement, sexual healing and lust and frenzy and all the things I ever felt when in heat. It was Ororo's turn, and I was going to give it to her any way I could. I carried on in haste. She was close anyway, I felt a drop of her pussy on my neck, then a few more, her leaking audible and her panting gathering in a waves. My tongue licked repeatedly at her, swirling around and around, digging into the folds of her cunt and tasting the salt and nature of her. She ground her teeth I think, and I pulled my right hand from her buttocks and fed the index deep into her. She yanked on the ribbon sealing the union and I felt my left being pulled. I gathered up more of the ribbon and pulled it toward her core, letting the fingers of my left tug at the skin around her pussy and rub at her clit where my tongue was circling. I heard her keening and groaning and her belly tensed hard, her own fingers suddenly snatched downward to rub at her most intimate part in hurried fervour. She wasn't a screamer, not like me, but she certainly made a lot of noise. I was sawing my right into her cunt and letting the left play with her clit while my jaw and tongue worked a come out from deep in her belly. She was moving, thrusting harder and harder, crying out: 'Betsy, I'm coming, I'm coming...' Repeated moaning of the same name, my name, my movements lost as her own took over and she rabbited up and down the ribbon pulling my arm in a spastic motion as she grit her teeth 'Yesssssssss' and came over my neck. She sobbed and collapsed against the footrest, barely holding herself up while her thighs trembled in post-head vibrations. I raised myself up letting go of the ribbon and watching her chest rise and fall as she relaxed into a heap.