Persistence of Memory
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
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Chapters:
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Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,918
Reviews:
68
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
14
Persistence of Memory Chapter Fourteen (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta, I found your voice
and am sending it back with the mermaid.
InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink are shiny happy people for archiving
(oddly enough, I don’t like that song but I like the expression). ProPhile gets a Javier muse and he knows
why. ;) Readers/Reviewers: ::GLOMP::
“I don’t
believe the two of you!”
“We’re very
disappointed in you both.”
Kitty and
Kurt looked as meek as could be as Storm and Logan paced the length and breadth
of the room around them. “I’m sorry,”
Kitty began, but was silence by a soft growl and hard look from her foster
father.
“This is
the second time. Second time,
Half Pint. I had hoped you’d learned
your lesson from the first punishment, but no…” He paused for a moment and closed his eyes as if gathering his
thoughts. “That’s it. Fun time is
over.”
“Where were
we for fun time[1]?” Kurt
muttered in Kitty’s ear.
“Silence,”
Storm snapped. “This is serious.” She stepped between Logan and the two
offenders, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes nearly white with
barely hidden emotion. “Why do you feel
the need to violate not only the Professor’s privacy, but strictly guarded
computer systems in violation of several state and federal laws?”
Kitty
licked her lips, considering several answers.
“My finger slipped and hit the wrong key?”
Kurt
winced. “Not the time, Kitty…”
“For once,
the Elf is right.” Logan nudged Storm
aside and they both glared down at the teenagers. “I’m so angry with you right now that I can’t begin to form the
words…”
Storm
frowned even more profoundly, if that was at all possible. “Kitty, you were hot-headed and easily
influenced. Kurt, you abused her trust
in you and encouraged her to commit thtrantransgressions. However, these errors are not what you will
be punished for.”
“They’re
not?” Loan, Kurt and Kitty asked as one.
“No.” Storm pulled herself up to her full height
and in a voice full of stern displeasure, she informed them, “We can’t trust
you. You’ve disobeyed strict orders twice, you’ve shown no respect for the
privacy of others and you’ve shown no respect for the safety of others in
breaching the systems of the Institute and the school.”
Kitty
slumped in her seat, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Kurt patted her hand diffidently, unable to
quell the flare of anger towards Logan for accusing him of abusing Kitty’s
trust. Trying not to sound uppity, he
said, “Why don’t you just punish me, then, if I’m the one who made Kitty do
this? It’s not her fault then!”
“Shut up,
Kurt,” Kitty said sadly. “They know and
you know that I could have said no to you if I wanted to, that we both could
have just waited until tomorrow to find out what was going on with schedules
and all.”
Logan
blinked in small surprise. He had expected more protests from her, more
defiance, but instead she seemed resigned.
“Okay. Kitty, no computers for a
month. If you have to type something,
get the old typewriter from the hall closet.
If you have to look something up, use the encyclopedias or microfilm
down at the library. Kurt…no Kitty.”
“Was?”
“Apparently,
the two of you together can’t be trusted.
No Kitty for two weeks.” Logan
staunchly ignored Kitty’s miserable sniffle.
“You can see each other during the day, at school and here at the
Institute, but no dates, no ‘alone time,’ no sneaking around together. And trust me—I will be checking. Two weeks.”
Storm
favored Logan with a mildly amused look.
“Now, it’s almost eight o’clock.
I believe you still have homework to finish and Kitty, you have kitchen
duty.”
“Yes,
ma’am.” Kitty stood and dropped Kurt’s
hand, shuffling towards the door. She
paused, looked back as if she wanted to say something else, but shook her head
and phased through.
Kurt stood
to go, but Logan glared at him, making him resume his seat. “About this letter you read on the
Professor’s computer…”
He could
not help it. He snapped. “You want to use what Kitty’s being punished
for?” Kurt was on his feet again, angry
on behalf of his beloved.
“I don’t
approve of the methods that got us the information, but the information is
important.” Logan was silently glad for
Storm’s presence, otherwise there would have been a Kurt-shaped dent in the
wall, so short was his temper that evening.
“What did it say?”
Kurt sighed
and sank back down to his seat. “It was
an old letter, scanned in. Like the
Professor wanted to make sure he had a copy in case something happened to the
original. It talked about their plans
for a school, their plans to help children who had to grow up and be like
them.”
“They?”
He nodded,
only slightly miserable, at Storm’s question.
“The Professor and Magneto, back when they were still friends.”
“What’s the
big deal about that, then?” Logan
shrugged, sorely disappointed. “Letters
between friends. Big deal.”
“That
wasn’t it,” Kurt sighed. “I had to skim
because…things…came up…but Magneto asked the Professor how his virus was, if he
was still getting the headaches.”
“Virus?” Storm’s brows shot up. “Virus?”
“Ja…” Slyly, Kurt said, “Want to ask Kitty to
bring up the letter again?”
Logan
growled under his breath. “The
Professor can tell us himself when he’s back to his old self.”
“If you say
so,” Kurt sighed. “May I be excused to
finish my homework?”
Storm
nodded assent and Kurt vanished. “Virus.”
“Virus,”
Logan repeated. “That would explain the
fever.”
“Hmm.”
“Why would
Pietro be tryin’ to break in, though?”
“Maybe we
should ask him.”
They
exchanged a grim look. “Right,” Logan
breathed. “Maybe we should.”
Scott
frowned at the untouched food on the tray.
“She still hasn’t eaten anything?”
“She still
hasn’t come out of her room,” Jean sighed.
“And Banshee is avoiding me…He won’t tell me what the big emergency was
that necessitated us getting Theresa and she hasn’t made a sound since this
morning…” Jean patted Scott’s arm
absently as she passed him to enter the kitchen. “I’m wondering if maybe there was some abuse or something.”
“Is that
your qualified diagnosis?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Cut it
out. I’m just wondering…”
“You’re
going to become a hypochondriac if you keep reading those books.” He nodded in the direction of the pile of
medical texts and the Physician’s Desk Reference on the kitchen table. “I know you’re trying to get ahead for the
MCAT in a few years but, honey, this is almost overkill.”
She turned
to face him, amused. “Did you just call
me honey?”
“Thought
I’d try it out…not good?”
“No, women
love being called bee vomit[2].” She pushed away from the counter and crossed
to him, draping her arms over his shoulders.
“At least you didn’t call me baby.
That would be disturbing.”
He shrugged
sheepishly. “That was next.”
“Why do you
think I need a pet name?”
“Dunno…” He slid his arms around her waist and leaned
against the wall next to the doorway.
“Why not?”
“Jean works
just fine for me.” She kissed him
briefly. “Has for eighteen years now.”
“So Red’s
out?”
She
mock-growled and poked him in the stomach.
“You can call me Red so long as you want to sleep on the sofa.”
“Yes,
dear.” He dipped his head to kiss her
again but she evaded his embrace and headed back towards the sink and their
dirty dishes. “I’m going over to the
main house later tonight, just to hang out.
Want to come with?”
“I’ve got
so much work to do,” she sighed, gesturing at the pile of books on the
table. “I’ve got class tomorrow morning
then I work from noon to six and I wanted to see if I could find something in
one of those psychology books of the Professor’s to get Theresa to talk to me…”
“Jean,” he
said quietly, slipping up behind her, “you need to calm down a bit.”
“What’s
that supposed to mean?”
“It means,”
he said, turning her to face him, “that you’ve done nothing but study and work
for the past two months. I barely see
you unless you’ve got your nose in a book or you’re on your way somewhere and I
think the rest of ‘em may have forgotten what you look like. I heard Rahne say “Jean who?” the other
day…”
“Liar,” she
smiled, twisting her fingers through the drawstring of his pants. “I still visit with them.”
“What color is featured in
Jubilee’s hair this week?” he challenged
Jean opened
her mouth, snapped it shut, then sighed. “Got me.”
“Green,” he
said, pushing her against the counter and kissing her. He felt her fingers tighten against him as
she parted her lips for him, sighing into the embrace. “And you’re tense.”
Jean made a
moue of displeasure. “Am not.” She pushed her hips against him and
grinned. “I think,” she began, trailing
the fingers of one hand down his chest and toying with the waistband of his
pants, “that I’m much more relaxed than you.”
“What makes
you think that?” he asked, his pulse picking up markedly.
“Well, you
can’t seem to keep your mind on one thing.”
“What did I
say the other day about being married to a telepathic telekinetic?”
“Be nice,”
she admonished, her fingers tracing his burgeoning arousal through his
clothing. “I’m not even reading your
mind and I know you’re not thinking about me being stressed out or even Theresa
and her problems.”
“We don’t know
that she even has problems,” he began, only to catch his breath as Jean dropped
suddenly to her knees, pulling his pants down in the process. “Jean!”
“Keep
talking, I’m listening,” she said nonchalantly.
“We…um…” He closed his eyes at the first brush of her
lips against his now-hard length. “She could,
um, just be really…Oh…”
“Really oh?”
Jean asked, leaning back to look up at him.
“What’s that?”
“Really
stressed herself,” he ground out as she took the first few inches of his length
into her warm mouth. Scott leaned
forward to brace his hands against the counter and gasped as she suddenly took
him all in, the roughness of her tongue at odds with the soft warmth of her touch.
So
you think she’s just stressed? That’s
why she won’t come out of her room and nearly deafened us all?
Scott tried
to separate rational thought from the wildly churning lustful thoughts about
his wife. “Um…”
I
think you’re too tense…
“You…are…evil…”
But
it’s a good evil. She redoubled
her attentions, her fingers working where her mouth was not and subtle
suggestions, subliminal whispers, further goaded Scott towards his rapidly
approaching climax. Jean took his length
in again, slowly drawing on him as he entreated her for more, groaned as she
tasted him and stroked him to completion.
When he reached the end, she would not let him pull away until she had
swallowed all of him, laving him as she drew back. “See?” she finally said as she stood up. “Now you’re not tense.”
“You’ve got
a weird way of relaxing. Most women
would want it the other way around,” he said after a moment.
“Night’s
not over yet,” she laughed, stepping around him to head upstairs. “Pull your pants up. I’m going over to the house with you. I have an idea about Theresa!”
He sighed
and pulled his pants back up. “Should I
worry that my wife was thinking about a teenaged girl while giving me a
blowjob?” he muttered.
“I heard
that!”
[1] Lifted from That
Seventies Show. Red gets mad about
Steven and Eric smoking pot… “Fun time is over!’ “Where was I for fun time?”
[2] No, really…
http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a5_040.html
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta, I found your voice
and am sending it back with the mermaid.
InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink are shiny happy people for archiving
(oddly enough, I don’t like that song but I like the expression). ProPhile gets a Javier muse and he knows
why. ;) Readers/Reviewers: ::GLOMP::
“I don’t
believe the two of you!”
“We’re very
disappointed in you both.”
Kitty and
Kurt looked as meek as could be as Storm and Logan paced the length and breadth
of the room around them. “I’m sorry,”
Kitty began, but was silence by a soft growl and hard look from her foster
father.
“This is
the second time. Second time,
Half Pint. I had hoped you’d learned
your lesson from the first punishment, but no…” He paused for a moment and closed his eyes as if gathering his
thoughts. “That’s it. Fun time is
over.”
“Where were
we for fun time[1]?” Kurt
muttered in Kitty’s ear.
“Silence,”
Storm snapped. “This is serious.” She stepped between Logan and the two
offenders, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes nearly white with
barely hidden emotion. “Why do you feel
the need to violate not only the Professor’s privacy, but strictly guarded
computer systems in violation of several state and federal laws?”
Kitty
licked her lips, considering several answers.
“My finger slipped and hit the wrong key?”
Kurt
winced. “Not the time, Kitty…”
“For once,
the Elf is right.” Logan nudged Storm
aside and they both glared down at the teenagers. “I’m so angry with you right now that I can’t begin to form the
words…”
Storm
frowned even more profoundly, if that was at all possible. “Kitty, you were hot-headed and easily
influenced. Kurt, you abused her trust
in you and encouraged her to commit thtrantransgressions. However, these errors are not what you will
be punished for.”
“They’re
not?” Loan, Kurt and Kitty asked as one.
“No.” Storm pulled herself up to her full height
and in a voice full of stern displeasure, she informed them, “We can’t trust
you. You’ve disobeyed strict orders twice, you’ve shown no respect for the
privacy of others and you’ve shown no respect for the safety of others in
breaching the systems of the Institute and the school.”
Kitty
slumped in her seat, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Kurt patted her hand diffidently, unable to
quell the flare of anger towards Logan for accusing him of abusing Kitty’s
trust. Trying not to sound uppity, he
said, “Why don’t you just punish me, then, if I’m the one who made Kitty do
this? It’s not her fault then!”
“Shut up,
Kurt,” Kitty said sadly. “They know and
you know that I could have said no to you if I wanted to, that we both could
have just waited until tomorrow to find out what was going on with schedules
and all.”
Logan
blinked in small surprise. He had expected more protests from her, more
defiance, but instead she seemed resigned.
“Okay. Kitty, no computers for a
month. If you have to type something,
get the old typewriter from the hall closet.
If you have to look something up, use the encyclopedias or microfilm
down at the library. Kurt…no Kitty.”
“Was?”
“Apparently,
the two of you together can’t be trusted.
No Kitty for two weeks.” Logan
staunchly ignored Kitty’s miserable sniffle.
“You can see each other during the day, at school and here at the
Institute, but no dates, no ‘alone time,’ no sneaking around together. And trust me—I will be checking. Two weeks.”
Storm
favored Logan with a mildly amused look.
“Now, it’s almost eight o’clock.
I believe you still have homework to finish and Kitty, you have kitchen
duty.”
“Yes,
ma’am.” Kitty stood and dropped Kurt’s
hand, shuffling towards the door. She
paused, looked back as if she wanted to say something else, but shook her head
and phased through.
Kurt stood
to go, but Logan glared at him, making him resume his seat. “About this letter you read on the
Professor’s computer…”
He could
not help it. He snapped. “You want to use what Kitty’s being punished
for?” Kurt was on his feet again, angry
on behalf of his beloved.
“I don’t
approve of the methods that got us the information, but the information is
important.” Logan was silently glad for
Storm’s presence, otherwise there would have been a Kurt-shaped dent in the
wall, so short was his temper that evening.
“What did it say?”
Kurt sighed
and sank back down to his seat. “It was
an old letter, scanned in. Like the
Professor wanted to make sure he had a copy in case something happened to the
original. It talked about their plans
for a school, their plans to help children who had to grow up and be like
them.”
“They?”
He nodded,
only slightly miserable, at Storm’s question.
“The Professor and Magneto, back when they were still friends.”
“What’s the
big deal about that, then?” Logan
shrugged, sorely disappointed. “Letters
between friends. Big deal.”
“That
wasn’t it,” Kurt sighed. “I had to skim
because…things…came up…but Magneto asked the Professor how his virus was, if he
was still getting the headaches.”
“Virus?” Storm’s brows shot up. “Virus?”
“Ja…” Slyly, Kurt said, “Want to ask Kitty to
bring up the letter again?”
Logan
growled under his breath. “The
Professor can tell us himself when he’s back to his old self.”
“If you say
so,” Kurt sighed. “May I be excused to
finish my homework?”
Storm
nodded assent and Kurt vanished. “Virus.”
“Virus,”
Logan repeated. “That would explain the
fever.”
“Hmm.”
“Why would
Pietro be tryin’ to break in, though?”
“Maybe we
should ask him.”
They
exchanged a grim look. “Right,” Logan
breathed. “Maybe we should.”
Scott
frowned at the untouched food on the tray.
“She still hasn’t eaten anything?”
“She still
hasn’t come out of her room,” Jean sighed.
“And Banshee is avoiding me…He won’t tell me what the big emergency was
that necessitated us getting Theresa and she hasn’t made a sound since this
morning…” Jean patted Scott’s arm
absently as she passed him to enter the kitchen. “I’m wondering if maybe there was some abuse or something.”
“Is that
your qualified diagnosis?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Cut it
out. I’m just wondering…”
“You’re
going to become a hypochondriac if you keep reading those books.” He nodded in the direction of the pile of
medical texts and the Physician’s Desk Reference on the kitchen table. “I know you’re trying to get ahead for the
MCAT in a few years but, honey, this is almost overkill.”
She turned
to face him, amused. “Did you just call
me honey?”
“Thought
I’d try it out…not good?”
“No, women
love being called bee vomit[2].” She pushed away from the counter and crossed
to him, draping her arms over his shoulders.
“At least you didn’t call me baby.
That would be disturbing.”
He shrugged
sheepishly. “That was next.”
“Why do you
think I need a pet name?”
“Dunno…” He slid his arms around her waist and leaned
against the wall next to the doorway.
“Why not?”
“Jean works
just fine for me.” She kissed him
briefly. “Has for eighteen years now.”
“So Red’s
out?”
She
mock-growled and poked him in the stomach.
“You can call me Red so long as you want to sleep on the sofa.”
“Yes,
dear.” He dipped his head to kiss her
again but she evaded his embrace and headed back towards the sink and their
dirty dishes. “I’m going over to the
main house later tonight, just to hang out.
Want to come with?”
“I’ve got
so much work to do,” she sighed, gesturing at the pile of books on the
table. “I’ve got class tomorrow morning
then I work from noon to six and I wanted to see if I could find something in
one of those psychology books of the Professor’s to get Theresa to talk to me…”
“Jean,” he
said quietly, slipping up behind her, “you need to calm down a bit.”
“What’s
that supposed to mean?”
“It means,”
he said, turning her to face him, “that you’ve done nothing but study and work
for the past two months. I barely see
you unless you’ve got your nose in a book or you’re on your way somewhere and I
think the rest of ‘em may have forgotten what you look like. I heard Rahne say “Jean who?” the other
day…”
“Liar,” she
smiled, twisting her fingers through the drawstring of his pants. “I still visit with them.”
“What color is featured in
Jubilee’s hair this week?” he challenged
Jean opened
her mouth, snapped it shut, then sighed. “Got me.”
“Green,” he
said, pushing her against the counter and kissing her. He felt her fingers tighten against him as
she parted her lips for him, sighing into the embrace. “And you’re tense.”
Jean made a
moue of displeasure. “Am not.” She pushed her hips against him and
grinned. “I think,” she began, trailing
the fingers of one hand down his chest and toying with the waistband of his
pants, “that I’m much more relaxed than you.”
“What makes
you think that?” he asked, his pulse picking up markedly.
“Well, you
can’t seem to keep your mind on one thing.”
“What did I
say the other day about being married to a telepathic telekinetic?”
“Be nice,”
she admonished, her fingers tracing his burgeoning arousal through his
clothing. “I’m not even reading your
mind and I know you’re not thinking about me being stressed out or even Theresa
and her problems.”
“We don’t know
that she even has problems,” he began, only to catch his breath as Jean dropped
suddenly to her knees, pulling his pants down in the process. “Jean!”
“Keep
talking, I’m listening,” she said nonchalantly.
“We…um…” He closed his eyes at the first brush of her
lips against his now-hard length. “She could,
um, just be really…Oh…”
“Really oh?”
Jean asked, leaning back to look up at him.
“What’s that?”
“Really
stressed herself,” he ground out as she took the first few inches of his length
into her warm mouth. Scott leaned
forward to brace his hands against the counter and gasped as she suddenly took
him all in, the roughness of her tongue at odds with the soft warmth of her touch.
So
you think she’s just stressed? That’s
why she won’t come out of her room and nearly deafened us all?
Scott tried
to separate rational thought from the wildly churning lustful thoughts about
his wife. “Um…”
I
think you’re too tense…
“You…are…evil…”
But
it’s a good evil. She redoubled
her attentions, her fingers working where her mouth was not and subtle
suggestions, subliminal whispers, further goaded Scott towards his rapidly
approaching climax. Jean took his length
in again, slowly drawing on him as he entreated her for more, groaned as she
tasted him and stroked him to completion.
When he reached the end, she would not let him pull away until she had
swallowed all of him, laving him as she drew back. “See?” she finally said as she stood up. “Now you’re not tense.”
“You’ve got
a weird way of relaxing. Most women
would want it the other way around,” he said after a moment.
“Night’s
not over yet,” she laughed, stepping around him to head upstairs. “Pull your pants up. I’m going over to the house with you. I have an idea about Theresa!”
He sighed
and pulled his pants back up. “Should I
worry that my wife was thinking about a teenaged girl while giving me a
blowjob?” he muttered.
“I heard
that!”
[1] Lifted from That
Seventies Show. Red gets mad about
Steven and Eric smoking pot… “Fun time is over!’ “Where was I for fun time?”
[2] No, really…
http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a5_040.html