X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell
folder
X-men Comics › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
1,697
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-men Comics › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
1,697
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
14 -- Kurt
Things with Miriam only seemed to get better after that final spat and while I respected her virtue, she respected my comfort zone. She was of a pleasant disposition most of the time and I noticed a pattern to her unpleasant dispositions, having recognized the same pattern among the other women I’d worked with back home every month. The only acknowledgement of this that I made to her was to shoplift a rather nice bar of expensive chocolate, which I presented before giving her some private time. “I wonder what women did before they discovered chocolate?” she’d mused a few days later as she offered to share the last of it with me. I laughed and accepted a small piece, which I decided was worth the shelf price of ten Marks a bar.
I kept training her in the martial arts and was delighted with her progress. Always the quick learner, she was able to anticipate the moves that came after those I would show her, and she sometimes improvised and came up with some wonderful combinations of her own that impressed me. She’d boasted before that she was an excellent shot with a gun; as I watched her go through her katas one morning I felt sorry for anyone who’d dare screw with her by the time I was done teaching her. It would happen eventually, as she was so diminutive that someone would underestimate her abilities someday.
“So?” she asked breathlessly, wiping the sweat off her brow with her sleeve. “How am I doing?”
“Mmm, learn quickly you do,” I smiled at her and raised the pitch of my voice. “Soon be ready to face the Emperor, you will. Hmm!”
The look on her face made me crack up. Of course she wouldn’t get the movie reference, but apparently the strange voice and dialect were enough to amuse her.
“. . . What??” she finally laughed, her expression still a cross between amusement and utter confusion.
“Nothing,” I grinned and waved it away.
“No, what the Hell was that?” she insisted, peering up into my face.
“It’s the impression of a character in a movie I grew up on,” I shrugged.
“So,” she waved her hand in a gesture asking for more explanation. “What’s the movie about?”
It turned out she was so interested in my description of Star Wars that she insisted I begin to tell the story over dinner. I’m still not sure if I should be scared that I had seen all three parts enough times to include dialogue in the story-telling. But Miriam was a good listener and paid rapt attention to the descriptions I gave of everything from landscapes to people to spaceships. I did notice as I told the story that when we were a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away she sat across the fire from me. By the time R2 had been sent to find Ben Kenobi, she had gotten up to put out the fire and sat down to the right of me but just out of reach. Around the time Uncle Owen and Aunt Veru got a visit from the Storm Troopers she had found a reason to move even closer to me. And then, during my description of the Mos Isely Cantina and its inhabitants, she reached out and covered my hand with hers. I stopped narrating for a moment to look at her and take in her smile, clasping her fingers and lightly curling my tail around her waist. “Is this okay?” I asked as I embraced her, watching her features to read her body language.
“You can put your arm there too, if you want,” she moved even closer and studied me in a similar manner.
I let go of her hand and slid my arm around her waist as well, holding her close as she rested her head against my chest. “Now, where were we?” I asked softly.
“Um, the space pilot had just shot the alien guy . . .”
“Ah, yes,” I regained my train of thought and stared into the distance. As I continued the story she listened, petting my tail absently and making small noises or exclamations as the narrative continued. Finally, I caught her beginning to nod off as the Rebels were plotting the destruction of the Death Star and told her I’d continue the story later because it was time for bed.
“Can I sleep next to you?” she asked with a now-familiar coloring of her cheeks.
“Sure, if you want to,” I nodded as I spread out my bedding.
“No,” she touched my arm so that I looked at her, “I mean next to you, like we were sitting together.”
“Oh.” I blinked, slightly stunned. “Of course.”
She smiled and began overlapping her blankets with mine so there’d be enough ground cover for us both. She insisted that I could sleep with my shirt off as I had been for the past several weeks as the weather warmed up if it made me more comfortable, and if I didn’t mind the contact between us. I thought about it as I continued setting up for the morning and peeled off my shirt before I laid down to sleep, closing my eyes and smiling as I felt her get comfortable from the shelter of my arms. I slid my mind into the meditative state and let everything flow . . . the songs of the birds, the chirping of the insects, the growing warmth of the day, the rhythm of Miriam’s breathing, the weight of her body as it relaxed, the beat of my own heart, the rustle of tree leaves as the wind blew through them . . . it all came together in one seamless harmony just before I fell asleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Miriam and I kept growing closer as the weeks passed, and while I wasn’t about to complain about the change of having someone treat me so nicely I also wasn’t about to ruin the rest of our trip by assuming something that didn’t exist. She was very sweet on me but I kept it in the back of my mind that she probably didn’t realize what she would be getting into and that, in fact, it was likely just that she was lonely and I was the only person around. I could have been anyone, I figured, and gotten the same sort of attention . . .
“You’re so funny sometimes,” she smiled as she tried to successfully land a punch to my chest.
“What do you mean?” I blocked her and then tossed her to the ground for what must have been the hundredth time today.
“It’s like you’ve changed from when we started our little trip,” she answered from the ground. “I don’t want to say you’re passive, because that’s not the right word . . .”
“I’m cautious.” I reached down to help her up, clasping her wrist as I pulled. “There’s quite a difference.”
“Yes, but you’re neurotic about it half the time.” She glanced down to brush the dirt off her clothes. “You tense up a lot, I’ve noticed. It’s like you think I’m going to hit you when all I want to do is be affectionate.”
“I’ve not had the best of luck with women,” I sighed. “And besides, I want to make sure I’m not going to do anything deserving of a smack in the face.”
She tilted her head and looked me over for a minute, then smiled slowly. “You get it from your mom, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Your respect for women. From what you’ve told me of her, she was a very tough woman. If she was tough enough to throw your dad out that time, she probably was the kind to smack someone for talking fresh to her. Am I right?”
“Moran yan you know.” I smiled fondly and dropped back into a fighting stance.
“I would have liked to have met her,” Miriam continued as she tried to tap me again. “I think I would have had a lot of respect for her.”
“Oh, you think so?” I cheated by blocking with my tail, but she didn’t seem to mind that. “It would probably be mutual. She would have found it amusing that you drew a gun on me in our first five minutes together.” She laughed and kept trying, getting closer to the mark each time. “You’re getting better, but you’re still too slow.” I grasped her to toss her to the ground again but, ever full of surprises, she grabbed me on her way down and took me with her.
“Okay, that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted from beneath me.
“I wasn’t going to say it,” I grinned and kept her pinned. “Good try though.”
“Thanks.” She stared up at me for a few minutes before asking if I was going to let her up.
“Now that you mention it,” I held her arms above her head and settled my head on her tummy, “maybe I’ll keep you here. You make a good pillow.”
“Nightcrawler!” She tried to wrestle herself free as I got another idea.
“Ja, Miriam?” I slid the tip of my tail into her hair to tickle her behind her ear, earning a cascade of giggles.
“Let me up!”
Oh, a challenge! “No, this is too much fun.” I moved on to her neck and then her ribs.
“No fair!” she shrieked. “No fair—oh!” She was reduced now to the hysterical laughter only a good tickling could elicit, and I kept it up for a while. She only laughed harder when I got to the secret weapon of all tickle-masters: the back of the knee. She somehow managed to get enough air and control to ask me to stop again and I finally relented.
“Oh, all right, spoil sport.” I laughed softly as I let her catch her breath and moved my tail slightly away.
“You’re not thinking of taking liberties while I’m this compromised, are you?” She was gasping as she regained control over her breathing.
I leaned in so that I was looking closely at her; when I looked into her eyes and saw how dilated her pupils were I felt a surge of excitement run through me. Was she teasing me . . . or inviting me? “You shouldn’t give me ideas,” I warned her softly and with only half my heart behind it. I caressed the outside of her thigh as I said it, watching her eyes as I did so. Her pupils stayed wide open and I was suddenly taken with a very brazen idea. She began to quiver when I slid my tail against her again, caressing the tender skin of her inner thigh.
“Stop that,” she nearly whispered even as her body language betrayed her; contrary to her words, she arched towards me and into my touch.
“Stop what?” I whispered into her ear before resting my lips against her pulse. It raced against me and I was distantly aware of my own pulse rapidly catching up to hers. I deeply inhaled the scent of her as I gently slid inside her panties to caress her somewhere else that I was certain she’d like.
“Touching me,” she moaned, her lashes fluttering against her face as she closed her eyes and moved against me.
“You’re doing a poor job convincing me of your objection,” I replied silkily before lapping gently at her ear lobe. She whimpered as I trailed my tail over her, parting her tenderly to find that she was even more excited than I thought. The warm wetness of her sex made me lose all sense and I slowly explored her, my unique touch an obvious delight to her. She moaned a little louder when I barely dipped into her, tantalizing us both with the implication of a different kind of penetration; but before I discovered that mysterious depth I wanted to satisfy my sudden need to pleasure her. I drew up some of her juices and spread them over her, working my flesh against hers as I kissed and licked and nibbled indiscriminately at her ears and neck and jaw. She continued to let me know in wordless sounds that I was on the right track and I reveled in this. It had been so long since I’d had this kind of opportunity, the chance to satisfy a woman, and I grew so hard with the excitement that it was almost painful to endure it. I tried to put aside all thought of myself though, tried to focus exclusively on her, and when I was on the verge of losing my own control I changed my touch to one that made her shudder against me as her hands squeezed mine in time to her own rhythms. I went back to the gentle union from before but combined it with an arching of my tail that met her in the tender place I’d just left. I closed my eyes and focused on this, in and out, up and over, back and forth, again and again and again . . . Her hands crushed mine as she climaxed, a loud cry escaping her lips that I swallowed in a sudden rough kiss. I let go of her hands but kept moving against her, hungry to ride out the forces I’d just unleashed from her body. I ached inside with a deep need to finish taking her, to possess her completely, and moaned deeply as I devoured her mouth. She returned this passion with a similar greed, kissing me fiercely as her hands slid into my hair and drew me down; her nails scratched along the length of my spine; she began to wrap her legs around me . . .
Reason finally flashed through my brain like sheet lightning and I remembered my earlier concerns about impregnating her. I wanted her, needed had had to have her in a way that was beyond words, but I couldn’t let myself be that selfish. I couldn’t disregard those legitimate concerns for a few precious moments of carnal enchantment, so I reluctantly pushed myself up from her, made a hasty apology for starting what I could not bring myself to finish, and teleported away from her.
I ‘ported once more, ending finally in the forest a little over a kilometer from our camp site. I retreated to the banks of a creek that ran through the trees and replayed the entire experience in my mind as I took care of my desire in a way that wouldn’t hurt anyone. I cleaned myself up and ascended into the highest branches of one of the taller trees, still hungry for Miriam’s touch and shaken by what had almost happened between us. I had never lost control of myself like that before and that bothered me considerably. What would she think of me now? What if she had really meant it when she told me to stop? That thought made me sick. Just because she was physically excited didn’t mean she wanted me to do that to her; and if she decided that she hadn’t wanted it, that made me a rapist. It made me the animal I’d sworn to her I wouldn’t become. “Oh, Gott,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands as I began to shake with grief and worry. I felt awful, absolutely awful, as I considered all the terrible things she might think now; the voice in the back of my mind came to me as it always did when I got too close to her and it made me sob like the broken beast that I suddenly realized I was.
“You disgust me,” it whispered like a fell wind through the sinister landscape that lived inside me. “You’re so weak, Kurt, so fucking pathetic that I want to vomit at the thought of you . . . Trying so hard to be what you’re not, yet so pejorative of yourself when you finally just be yourself . . .”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears sliding down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms and tail tightly around my body in a futile effort to insulate myself from something that came from within. I didn’t want to be like this, to be an ugly, savage, lustful fiend lacking the barest levels of control or civilized restraint.
“But you’re the Devil’s son, remember?” Its words stabbed cruelly at me, recalling all the epithets hurled against me as a defenseless child by an ignorant population that couldn’t understand . . . “Oh, they understood, alright. You are a demon, Kurt. You’ll never escape it, you’ll never outgrow it, because it’s in your blood. Like an infection, a disease, you can force yourself into remission but it will always be there, beating away in every throb of your pulse . . .”
I curled into a tight ball and shuddered at this onslaught. I didn’t want to believe it was true. It had to be within me as well, the ability to be refined . . . decent . . . worthy . . .
The voice within stopped talking, but the spiteful laughter it threw in parting sent me into a fresh surge of agony that finally ended in burning eyes, a head aching from crying so much, and a body drained of any ability to move. I felt I should pull myself together, climb down, go apologize to Miriam for this violation, but I didn’t have the heart to force the movement necessary for such a daunting task. Instead I continued to hide there until something external compelled me to action . . .
-----------------------------------------------------------
The first indication that things had gone sour was the presence of the soldiers in the woods, leashed dogs sniffing everything they could find. My eyes narrowed as I looked them over. They weren't as dirty and sweaty as they would be if such work were routine. This wasn't a generalized sweep – they were looking for someone specific. My pulse quickened as the adrenaline hit me. What had become of Miriam?
Come on you bastards, say something.
I followed them as they went along, moving silently from tree to tree. At last one of their radios crackled to life, the person on the other end ordering a status report.
"Nothing yet, mein Herr," the really young kid spoke into the two-way. "The dogs haven't got a lead. It's like he just vanished."
"He's probably a drunkard and didn't know what he saw. Bring it back in; we've got a train to catch."
"Yes, sir."
I watched them turn to go and smiled. All I had to do was keep up, hitch a ride, and I'd be set. I stayed upwind from the animals and crept behind them by almost a kilometer, and we arrived back to the campsite perhaps a half hour later. I'd seen no trace of Miriam until I glimpsed the trucks. Other prisoners were worrying over someone in their midst; I figured that was her. I waited until everyone was in place and the convoy got back on the road before teleporting to the underside of the last truck in the row. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable and lasted until our arrival at a military installation, where the trucks in our train took a few minutes to refill on petrol.
I'd guessed correctly that the train station they'd been heading for was in fact part of the base. That was the good part. The bad part was that by the time I got a clear path out from under the truck and had enough cover to make it to the platforms, several trains had pulled out while others were pulling in and still others were being loadith ith people. I stayed put and looked over each terrified captive, but none of them were Miriam.
I wondered if it was my own personal curse or one general to all X-Men that when our luck runs out, it runs out in spades.
I examined the grounds and the uniformed people, taking note of where the officers went that most of the grunts did not. I had to find which of the handful of buildings housed the prisoner transfer records; perhaps I could find her through those papers. The going was slow due to the number of people milling about, but I finally found the right building and the correct office. Whoever was on duty hadn't yet filed the day's records; instead they comprised a series of lop-sided piles of paper that obscured the surface of the desk. I began flipping through them and reflected on how unfortunate it was that of all the things that could have remained constant between realities, the lust for genocide made the cut. I did my best to forget that each of these people had been condemned to die for nothing more than the blood that ran through their veins and focused instead upon finding her – a name, a photograph, anything. At long last I found her record, her only identification a snapshot taken while she was unconscious. Judging from the large bruise on the left side of her face, she'd have a terrible headache when she awoke. Where were they taking her? The scrawling hand indicated that she was bound for a camp in upstate New York – not far from an area I once called home. I chuckled darkly at the irony of a concentration camp standing where a Nazi survivor based his Dream . . . Oh, Magnus, if you could only be here . . . I folded the record into sixths and slid it under my left arm bracer. It was time to go.
I chose my route among the railroad tracks from the map I took from another office on my way out. I traveled on foot, camouflaged by the wilderness left untended along the edges of the tracks. I had only my thoughts to keep me company and and they were jumbled and tangled. As I trudged on I thought about the last days I spent back home and why I had continued when everyone else had ceased. I thought about this new world, how everything was so different that I would never fit in . . . except, perhaps, with Miriam. She intrigued me in a way that very few people ever did. She’d been frightened of me at first – not at all unusual – but had swallowed that fear to offer me her trust. Along with trust she’d offered friendship and that, I confess, threw me for a loop. I realized I’d grown to like her very much, so much that I was heading into clearly defined and hostile enemy territory to retrieve her. Growing uncomfortable with the emotions the line of thought invoked, I wiped my mind clean and kept walking.
I was three days on the trail when I heard the sound of an approaching locomotive. I stopped and listened; it was coming from behind me so I waited for it to arrive and went aboard, stowing away in a car loaded with barrels of cured meat like a demonic hobo. I kept an eye out for the Westchester stop and let myself off before I was discovered, teleporting past the gates and into the camp itself. I moved slowly among the shadows of the buildings, watching each person who passed to no avail. Finally, behind the kitchens, a small portion of my luck returned.
“She’s not here,” one of the prisoners said softly, head bent over her work. I kept perfectly still and watched her as she slowly emptied her refuse cans into the bins outside. “Can you hear me, Nightcrawler?” she dared to raise her voice a little. “It’s Esther, from Charleston.”
I checked my surprise before whispering back, “Ja, I hear you. Was she taken to a different camp?”
“No,” she gave her can an extra shake to make more time, “she’s been taken to Berlin—“
I dropped my tail down, wrapped it around one of her wrists, and teleported us in two jumps to the now-deserted rail cars outside the complex. Her first reaction was to double over and retch; I pushed the doors closed behind us for privacy and waited politely for her to finish.
“What did you just do?” She stared at me, eyes wide with alarm.
“I took us someplace where we can talk,” I answered. “You’ll be fine in a moment. You’re not the first person whose insides turned themselves out after that.”
“What are you?” Her breath came in shallow gasps and she watched me warily.
“Decidedly not from around here,” I sighed. “I won’t hurt you, Esther. But you mentioned Miriam and Berlin in the same breath?”
“Yes,” she sat down across the car from me. “An official who was visiting decided he liked her and took her back to Berlin with him.”
I felt my stomach tighten into a stone.
“I’m very sorry, Nightcrawler.” Her eyes were sad. “She spoke highly of you, and had faith you’d come for her. She didn’t want to go.”
The feelings that so disturbed and confused me re-surfaced at these words; I walled off my heart to focus on more pressing matters. “You know all the Underground stops, nicht wahr [is this true]?”
“All the ones along this seaboard. Why?” She frowned.
I kept training her in the martial arts and was delighted with her progress. Always the quick learner, she was able to anticipate the moves that came after those I would show her, and she sometimes improvised and came up with some wonderful combinations of her own that impressed me. She’d boasted before that she was an excellent shot with a gun; as I watched her go through her katas one morning I felt sorry for anyone who’d dare screw with her by the time I was done teaching her. It would happen eventually, as she was so diminutive that someone would underestimate her abilities someday.
“So?” she asked breathlessly, wiping the sweat off her brow with her sleeve. “How am I doing?”
“Mmm, learn quickly you do,” I smiled at her and raised the pitch of my voice. “Soon be ready to face the Emperor, you will. Hmm!”
The look on her face made me crack up. Of course she wouldn’t get the movie reference, but apparently the strange voice and dialect were enough to amuse her.
“. . . What??” she finally laughed, her expression still a cross between amusement and utter confusion.
“Nothing,” I grinned and waved it away.
“No, what the Hell was that?” she insisted, peering up into my face.
“It’s the impression of a character in a movie I grew up on,” I shrugged.
“So,” she waved her hand in a gesture asking for more explanation. “What’s the movie about?”
It turned out she was so interested in my description of Star Wars that she insisted I begin to tell the story over dinner. I’m still not sure if I should be scared that I had seen all three parts enough times to include dialogue in the story-telling. But Miriam was a good listener and paid rapt attention to the descriptions I gave of everything from landscapes to people to spaceships. I did notice as I told the story that when we were a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away she sat across the fire from me. By the time R2 had been sent to find Ben Kenobi, she had gotten up to put out the fire and sat down to the right of me but just out of reach. Around the time Uncle Owen and Aunt Veru got a visit from the Storm Troopers she had found a reason to move even closer to me. And then, during my description of the Mos Isely Cantina and its inhabitants, she reached out and covered my hand with hers. I stopped narrating for a moment to look at her and take in her smile, clasping her fingers and lightly curling my tail around her waist. “Is this okay?” I asked as I embraced her, watching her features to read her body language.
“You can put your arm there too, if you want,” she moved even closer and studied me in a similar manner.
I let go of her hand and slid my arm around her waist as well, holding her close as she rested her head against my chest. “Now, where were we?” I asked softly.
“Um, the space pilot had just shot the alien guy . . .”
“Ah, yes,” I regained my train of thought and stared into the distance. As I continued the story she listened, petting my tail absently and making small noises or exclamations as the narrative continued. Finally, I caught her beginning to nod off as the Rebels were plotting the destruction of the Death Star and told her I’d continue the story later because it was time for bed.
“Can I sleep next to you?” she asked with a now-familiar coloring of her cheeks.
“Sure, if you want to,” I nodded as I spread out my bedding.
“No,” she touched my arm so that I looked at her, “I mean next to you, like we were sitting together.”
“Oh.” I blinked, slightly stunned. “Of course.”
She smiled and began overlapping her blankets with mine so there’d be enough ground cover for us both. She insisted that I could sleep with my shirt off as I had been for the past several weeks as the weather warmed up if it made me more comfortable, and if I didn’t mind the contact between us. I thought about it as I continued setting up for the morning and peeled off my shirt before I laid down to sleep, closing my eyes and smiling as I felt her get comfortable from the shelter of my arms. I slid my mind into the meditative state and let everything flow . . . the songs of the birds, the chirping of the insects, the growing warmth of the day, the rhythm of Miriam’s breathing, the weight of her body as it relaxed, the beat of my own heart, the rustle of tree leaves as the wind blew through them . . . it all came together in one seamless harmony just before I fell asleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Miriam and I kept growing closer as the weeks passed, and while I wasn’t about to complain about the change of having someone treat me so nicely I also wasn’t about to ruin the rest of our trip by assuming something that didn’t exist. She was very sweet on me but I kept it in the back of my mind that she probably didn’t realize what she would be getting into and that, in fact, it was likely just that she was lonely and I was the only person around. I could have been anyone, I figured, and gotten the same sort of attention . . .
“You’re so funny sometimes,” she smiled as she tried to successfully land a punch to my chest.
“What do you mean?” I blocked her and then tossed her to the ground for what must have been the hundredth time today.
“It’s like you’ve changed from when we started our little trip,” she answered from the ground. “I don’t want to say you’re passive, because that’s not the right word . . .”
“I’m cautious.” I reached down to help her up, clasping her wrist as I pulled. “There’s quite a difference.”
“Yes, but you’re neurotic about it half the time.” She glanced down to brush the dirt off her clothes. “You tense up a lot, I’ve noticed. It’s like you think I’m going to hit you when all I want to do is be affectionate.”
“I’ve not had the best of luck with women,” I sighed. “And besides, I want to make sure I’m not going to do anything deserving of a smack in the face.”
She tilted her head and looked me over for a minute, then smiled slowly. “You get it from your mom, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Your respect for women. From what you’ve told me of her, she was a very tough woman. If she was tough enough to throw your dad out that time, she probably was the kind to smack someone for talking fresh to her. Am I right?”
“Moran yan you know.” I smiled fondly and dropped back into a fighting stance.
“I would have liked to have met her,” Miriam continued as she tried to tap me again. “I think I would have had a lot of respect for her.”
“Oh, you think so?” I cheated by blocking with my tail, but she didn’t seem to mind that. “It would probably be mutual. She would have found it amusing that you drew a gun on me in our first five minutes together.” She laughed and kept trying, getting closer to the mark each time. “You’re getting better, but you’re still too slow.” I grasped her to toss her to the ground again but, ever full of surprises, she grabbed me on her way down and took me with her.
“Okay, that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted from beneath me.
“I wasn’t going to say it,” I grinned and kept her pinned. “Good try though.”
“Thanks.” She stared up at me for a few minutes before asking if I was going to let her up.
“Now that you mention it,” I held her arms above her head and settled my head on her tummy, “maybe I’ll keep you here. You make a good pillow.”
“Nightcrawler!” She tried to wrestle herself free as I got another idea.
“Ja, Miriam?” I slid the tip of my tail into her hair to tickle her behind her ear, earning a cascade of giggles.
“Let me up!”
Oh, a challenge! “No, this is too much fun.” I moved on to her neck and then her ribs.
“No fair!” she shrieked. “No fair—oh!” She was reduced now to the hysterical laughter only a good tickling could elicit, and I kept it up for a while. She only laughed harder when I got to the secret weapon of all tickle-masters: the back of the knee. She somehow managed to get enough air and control to ask me to stop again and I finally relented.
“Oh, all right, spoil sport.” I laughed softly as I let her catch her breath and moved my tail slightly away.
“You’re not thinking of taking liberties while I’m this compromised, are you?” She was gasping as she regained control over her breathing.
I leaned in so that I was looking closely at her; when I looked into her eyes and saw how dilated her pupils were I felt a surge of excitement run through me. Was she teasing me . . . or inviting me? “You shouldn’t give me ideas,” I warned her softly and with only half my heart behind it. I caressed the outside of her thigh as I said it, watching her eyes as I did so. Her pupils stayed wide open and I was suddenly taken with a very brazen idea. She began to quiver when I slid my tail against her again, caressing the tender skin of her inner thigh.
“Stop that,” she nearly whispered even as her body language betrayed her; contrary to her words, she arched towards me and into my touch.
“Stop what?” I whispered into her ear before resting my lips against her pulse. It raced against me and I was distantly aware of my own pulse rapidly catching up to hers. I deeply inhaled the scent of her as I gently slid inside her panties to caress her somewhere else that I was certain she’d like.
“Touching me,” she moaned, her lashes fluttering against her face as she closed her eyes and moved against me.
“You’re doing a poor job convincing me of your objection,” I replied silkily before lapping gently at her ear lobe. She whimpered as I trailed my tail over her, parting her tenderly to find that she was even more excited than I thought. The warm wetness of her sex made me lose all sense and I slowly explored her, my unique touch an obvious delight to her. She moaned a little louder when I barely dipped into her, tantalizing us both with the implication of a different kind of penetration; but before I discovered that mysterious depth I wanted to satisfy my sudden need to pleasure her. I drew up some of her juices and spread them over her, working my flesh against hers as I kissed and licked and nibbled indiscriminately at her ears and neck and jaw. She continued to let me know in wordless sounds that I was on the right track and I reveled in this. It had been so long since I’d had this kind of opportunity, the chance to satisfy a woman, and I grew so hard with the excitement that it was almost painful to endure it. I tried to put aside all thought of myself though, tried to focus exclusively on her, and when I was on the verge of losing my own control I changed my touch to one that made her shudder against me as her hands squeezed mine in time to her own rhythms. I went back to the gentle union from before but combined it with an arching of my tail that met her in the tender place I’d just left. I closed my eyes and focused on this, in and out, up and over, back and forth, again and again and again . . . Her hands crushed mine as she climaxed, a loud cry escaping her lips that I swallowed in a sudden rough kiss. I let go of her hands but kept moving against her, hungry to ride out the forces I’d just unleashed from her body. I ached inside with a deep need to finish taking her, to possess her completely, and moaned deeply as I devoured her mouth. She returned this passion with a similar greed, kissing me fiercely as her hands slid into my hair and drew me down; her nails scratched along the length of my spine; she began to wrap her legs around me . . .
Reason finally flashed through my brain like sheet lightning and I remembered my earlier concerns about impregnating her. I wanted her, needed had had to have her in a way that was beyond words, but I couldn’t let myself be that selfish. I couldn’t disregard those legitimate concerns for a few precious moments of carnal enchantment, so I reluctantly pushed myself up from her, made a hasty apology for starting what I could not bring myself to finish, and teleported away from her.
I ‘ported once more, ending finally in the forest a little over a kilometer from our camp site. I retreated to the banks of a creek that ran through the trees and replayed the entire experience in my mind as I took care of my desire in a way that wouldn’t hurt anyone. I cleaned myself up and ascended into the highest branches of one of the taller trees, still hungry for Miriam’s touch and shaken by what had almost happened between us. I had never lost control of myself like that before and that bothered me considerably. What would she think of me now? What if she had really meant it when she told me to stop? That thought made me sick. Just because she was physically excited didn’t mean she wanted me to do that to her; and if she decided that she hadn’t wanted it, that made me a rapist. It made me the animal I’d sworn to her I wouldn’t become. “Oh, Gott,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands as I began to shake with grief and worry. I felt awful, absolutely awful, as I considered all the terrible things she might think now; the voice in the back of my mind came to me as it always did when I got too close to her and it made me sob like the broken beast that I suddenly realized I was.
“You disgust me,” it whispered like a fell wind through the sinister landscape that lived inside me. “You’re so weak, Kurt, so fucking pathetic that I want to vomit at the thought of you . . . Trying so hard to be what you’re not, yet so pejorative of yourself when you finally just be yourself . . .”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears sliding down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms and tail tightly around my body in a futile effort to insulate myself from something that came from within. I didn’t want to be like this, to be an ugly, savage, lustful fiend lacking the barest levels of control or civilized restraint.
“But you’re the Devil’s son, remember?” Its words stabbed cruelly at me, recalling all the epithets hurled against me as a defenseless child by an ignorant population that couldn’t understand . . . “Oh, they understood, alright. You are a demon, Kurt. You’ll never escape it, you’ll never outgrow it, because it’s in your blood. Like an infection, a disease, you can force yourself into remission but it will always be there, beating away in every throb of your pulse . . .”
I curled into a tight ball and shuddered at this onslaught. I didn’t want to believe it was true. It had to be within me as well, the ability to be refined . . . decent . . . worthy . . .
The voice within stopped talking, but the spiteful laughter it threw in parting sent me into a fresh surge of agony that finally ended in burning eyes, a head aching from crying so much, and a body drained of any ability to move. I felt I should pull myself together, climb down, go apologize to Miriam for this violation, but I didn’t have the heart to force the movement necessary for such a daunting task. Instead I continued to hide there until something external compelled me to action . . .
-----------------------------------------------------------
The first indication that things had gone sour was the presence of the soldiers in the woods, leashed dogs sniffing everything they could find. My eyes narrowed as I looked them over. They weren't as dirty and sweaty as they would be if such work were routine. This wasn't a generalized sweep – they were looking for someone specific. My pulse quickened as the adrenaline hit me. What had become of Miriam?
Come on you bastards, say something.
I followed them as they went along, moving silently from tree to tree. At last one of their radios crackled to life, the person on the other end ordering a status report.
"Nothing yet, mein Herr," the really young kid spoke into the two-way. "The dogs haven't got a lead. It's like he just vanished."
"He's probably a drunkard and didn't know what he saw. Bring it back in; we've got a train to catch."
"Yes, sir."
I watched them turn to go and smiled. All I had to do was keep up, hitch a ride, and I'd be set. I stayed upwind from the animals and crept behind them by almost a kilometer, and we arrived back to the campsite perhaps a half hour later. I'd seen no trace of Miriam until I glimpsed the trucks. Other prisoners were worrying over someone in their midst; I figured that was her. I waited until everyone was in place and the convoy got back on the road before teleporting to the underside of the last truck in the row. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable and lasted until our arrival at a military installation, where the trucks in our train took a few minutes to refill on petrol.
I'd guessed correctly that the train station they'd been heading for was in fact part of the base. That was the good part. The bad part was that by the time I got a clear path out from under the truck and had enough cover to make it to the platforms, several trains had pulled out while others were pulling in and still others were being loadith ith people. I stayed put and looked over each terrified captive, but none of them were Miriam.
I wondered if it was my own personal curse or one general to all X-Men that when our luck runs out, it runs out in spades.
I examined the grounds and the uniformed people, taking note of where the officers went that most of the grunts did not. I had to find which of the handful of buildings housed the prisoner transfer records; perhaps I could find her through those papers. The going was slow due to the number of people milling about, but I finally found the right building and the correct office. Whoever was on duty hadn't yet filed the day's records; instead they comprised a series of lop-sided piles of paper that obscured the surface of the desk. I began flipping through them and reflected on how unfortunate it was that of all the things that could have remained constant between realities, the lust for genocide made the cut. I did my best to forget that each of these people had been condemned to die for nothing more than the blood that ran through their veins and focused instead upon finding her – a name, a photograph, anything. At long last I found her record, her only identification a snapshot taken while she was unconscious. Judging from the large bruise on the left side of her face, she'd have a terrible headache when she awoke. Where were they taking her? The scrawling hand indicated that she was bound for a camp in upstate New York – not far from an area I once called home. I chuckled darkly at the irony of a concentration camp standing where a Nazi survivor based his Dream . . . Oh, Magnus, if you could only be here . . . I folded the record into sixths and slid it under my left arm bracer. It was time to go.
I chose my route among the railroad tracks from the map I took from another office on my way out. I traveled on foot, camouflaged by the wilderness left untended along the edges of the tracks. I had only my thoughts to keep me company and and they were jumbled and tangled. As I trudged on I thought about the last days I spent back home and why I had continued when everyone else had ceased. I thought about this new world, how everything was so different that I would never fit in . . . except, perhaps, with Miriam. She intrigued me in a way that very few people ever did. She’d been frightened of me at first – not at all unusual – but had swallowed that fear to offer me her trust. Along with trust she’d offered friendship and that, I confess, threw me for a loop. I realized I’d grown to like her very much, so much that I was heading into clearly defined and hostile enemy territory to retrieve her. Growing uncomfortable with the emotions the line of thought invoked, I wiped my mind clean and kept walking.
I was three days on the trail when I heard the sound of an approaching locomotive. I stopped and listened; it was coming from behind me so I waited for it to arrive and went aboard, stowing away in a car loaded with barrels of cured meat like a demonic hobo. I kept an eye out for the Westchester stop and let myself off before I was discovered, teleporting past the gates and into the camp itself. I moved slowly among the shadows of the buildings, watching each person who passed to no avail. Finally, behind the kitchens, a small portion of my luck returned.
“She’s not here,” one of the prisoners said softly, head bent over her work. I kept perfectly still and watched her as she slowly emptied her refuse cans into the bins outside. “Can you hear me, Nightcrawler?” she dared to raise her voice a little. “It’s Esther, from Charleston.”
I checked my surprise before whispering back, “Ja, I hear you. Was she taken to a different camp?”
“No,” she gave her can an extra shake to make more time, “she’s been taken to Berlin—“
I dropped my tail down, wrapped it around one of her wrists, and teleported us in two jumps to the now-deserted rail cars outside the complex. Her first reaction was to double over and retch; I pushed the doors closed behind us for privacy and waited politely for her to finish.
“What did you just do?” She stared at me, eyes wide with alarm.
“I took us someplace where we can talk,” I answered. “You’ll be fine in a moment. You’re not the first person whose insides turned themselves out after that.”
“What are you?” Her breath came in shallow gasps and she watched me warily.
“Decidedly not from around here,” I sighed. “I won’t hurt you, Esther. But you mentioned Miriam and Berlin in the same breath?”
“Yes,” she sat down across the car from me. “An official who was visiting decided he liked her and took her back to Berlin with him.”
I felt my stomach tighten into a stone.
“I’m very sorry, Nightcrawler.” Her eyes were sad. “She spoke highly of you, and had faith you’d come for her. She didn’t want to go.”
The feelings that so disturbed and confused me re-surfaced at these words; I walled off my heart to focus on more pressing matters. “You know all the Underground stops, nicht wahr [is this true]?”
“All the ones along this seaboard. Why?” She frowned.