Devourer of Sins

DEVOURER OF SINS CHAPSIXTSIXTEEN (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies-it's a plot by the post office, I tell you... Foxfeather is supergroovy for beta-ing and for the idea that spawned this part of the Foreververse (or, as I like to call it, the Fic that Ate my Brain). InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink have my undying thanks for archiving. I bow before you in gratitude! Readers/Reviewers: I understand that the Killer Kitties (tm) might be in stealth-stalking mode, so cross your fingers! Thanks for all the reviews, by the bye! Very helpful, all of them!



Logan did not feel sentimental often, but lately he found himself feeling more sappy than usual. Idly toying with a hank of the platinum hair spread across his chest, Logan found himself wishing that he and Storm could be like that always, her resting against him in the night, quiet and no cares marring her features with lines. _Aw, Hell...Even the lines are beautiful... _ Twisting the strands around his fingers, he stroked her bare back with his free hand and stared at the ceiling, listening to the comings and goings of the students throughout the mansion. He heard Amara down the hall, saying something in strident tones to Lance who responded in kind, Jubilee giggling with Rahne over a planned Christmas present, Jamie slamming his door, then saying "sorry" to no one in particular. Kurt was silent, he noticed, as was Kitty. Scott, he knew, was in the garage tinkering with some old motorcycle he and Remy had found for sale in town and Jean was in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes for fudge and failing miserably. _This is so freakin' domestic I should scream...damn it, I like it. _ Logan smiled to himself and sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath Storm's head.
"Can't sleep?" she murmured, not moving from her position, held tight to his side.
"Not really," he allowed, sighing with his words. "Not tired enough, I guess."
"I think I'm tired enough for the both of us." Storm lifted her head and looked at Logan through sleep-hooded eyes. "Would you like for me to go back to my own room?"
"Don't be silly," he snorted. "If I wanted you to be in your bed, I'd have come to you instead of the other way around." He smiled at her and winked, drawing a snort of amusement from the weather goddess.
"You are incorrigible." Storm slid her fingers down his stubble-roughened jaw and smiled slowly. "And I don't think I mind a bit..."
"Witch," he growled, moving so that she was pinned beneath his weight, letting him press her into the mattress with nary a protest. Her benevolent smile made him feel mildly inadequate, like he should be thanking her for letting him even touch her much less have his way with her on a semi-regular basis.
"So I've been told..." Storm slid one leg around his thigh, pulling him to her even as he ducked his head to nip at her throat. He traced her neck and jaw with kisses, making his way to her almond-shaped eyes and kissing the lids with a tenderness not expected of him. Storm murmured her pleasure and turned her face to give him access to the other side, sighing as his kisses left a hot trail of singing nerves in their wake. Her breasts pushed against his chest as she arched to him, making Logan growl low in his throat, licking one stiffened peak with agonizingly slow strokes of his tongue. "Logan," she said roughly.
"I know, darlin'...I know..." Without another word, he slid into her waiting folds, filling her in one slow movement, her eyes fluttering shut as she stretched to accommodate him, raising her hips to meet his thrust. Logan buried his face in her neck and sighed, the smell of flowers melting with the smell of her skin and their lovemaking. She whispered in his ear all the things she was feeling, how much she wanted him and needed him, striking him dumb with the honesty of it. He had yet to get used to her raw desire, her pure openness when it came to their relationship. Truth be told, it scared him. Games, he could handle. The artifice of one night stands, of quick fucks in bar bathrooms or cheap hotel rooms were things he could throw away without a thought and knew the women he was with would, too. Storm, though, shook him to the core. She would not allow him to hide-she would find him wherever he ran. Her soft cry against his shoulder brought Logan's attention back to more immediate activities. Storm was flushed with rising tension, her climax immanent as he moved faster within her, his own release being driven by hers. Storm cried out sharply and clutched at his back, her wet entrance convulsing around his length. Logan bit his lip to keep from crying out in turn and grimaced as the familiar tightness in his groin took hold, his seed spilling into her with one long thrust. He moved within her a moment more, unwilling to break the physical bond just yet. She bit his earlobe and he chuckled weakly. "Even _I _ need to rest for a minute, 'Ro..." She laughed softly inurn urn and nuzzled his neck instead, letting him move off her and pull her to his side again.
Logan was about to settle into the pillows for another nap when a sound down the hall made him tense. "Damn it," he said.
"What is it?"
"Get dressed quick...kids are coming." Logan shoved her gently to one side and rolled to his feet, pulling on his formerly discarded black sweatpants1. Storm shrugged into her long robe and twisted her hair into a simple knot, striving to look as if she had merely come to talk with Logan on a platonic level. She failed miserably.
"Logan!" Kurt's frantic knock made the older man sigh.
"See? What did I tell ya?" he sighed to Storm. Louder, to Kurt, he said, "What is it?"
"I need to talk to you! Now!" Kurt pounded the door with a flat hand, willing himself not to port out of panic and burst in on the man.
"Come in, come in..." Storm's panicked expression made Logan smile a little. "They're gonna find out sooner or later, 'Ro!" he whispered.
Kurt opened the door with a bang and was in the room so quickly that Logan would have thought the boy ported had there not been the absence of a sulfurous stench. "Something's wrong with Kitty!"
Logan raised a brow. "I know that, Elf...and don't think I'm not worried..." It was then that Logan caught it. Beneath the stink of panic and fear and Kurt's usual mild musky smell was the tang of blood. Bracing himself, he took another breath and closed his eyes. It was missing the stale smell of menstrual blood and was instead fresh, still warm on Kurt's person. "Where is she?" he said, already moving.
"Her room!" Kurt ported away then, a cloud of blue fur indicating his panic. Storm stared at the empty doorway for a scant moment before following them, only mildly surprised that Kurt did not seem to notice her presence. She skidded to a halt in the doorway of Kitty's room, blinking at the sight before her.
"C'mon, Half-Pint...open yer eyes for me..." Logan did not move Kitty for fear of causing further damage to her torn body. All of her stitches were torn free and the wound gaped, healing edges straining not to tear.
Kurt swallowed the bilious fear in his throat, taking Kitty's sticky, bloody hand and kissing it fervently. "Katzchen, wake up! Oyouryour eyes, say something! Please....bitte..." Neither man noticed Storm arriving or her departure, bolting out the door to get Hank. "Liebes, say something."
Logan slapped the inside of her wrists, careful not to jostle her. Her breathing was relatively normal, just shallow. From what he could tell, her pulse was strong but erratic, signaling fear and panic. "What happened, Kurt?"
"I don't know!" he said, rubbing her hand and stroking the side of her face. "She didn't answer when I knocked and I heard a thud, so I waited a minute and came in...She was like this when I found her!" Kitty lay sprawled before her dresser, clad only in her underpants, blood already coagulating on her skin and the thin cotton garment.
"What's all this?" Logan asked, swiping a smear of white powder from the wound; Kurt noticed then that Kitty's stomach was sprinkled with the slightly iridescent substance, the bitter smell mixing with the coppery tang of blood. A horrifying thought struck Logan then. Kitty's erratic behavior, her sudden change in attitude and appearance..."Kurt, is this what I think it is?"
"Huh? I don't...what?" Kurt was disturbed that Logan had seemingly dismissed Kitty from his mind, focusing instead on the powder at the end of his finger.
"Is this...is this cocaine?"
"Fucking Hell! How can you say that?" Kurt roared, anger overriding any sense of personal safety he may have possessed. "Kitty isn't stupid! She would never do _that!" _
"Don't you yell at me, Elf!" Logan said, low and dangerous. "What the Hell am I supposed to think? White powder, mood swings, she's stopped eating..."2 Beast's lumbering steps made Logan draw up short. "We'll talk later!" he snapped.
"Let me see her," Beast said by way of greeting, all but shoving Logan aside. He did not bother Kurt, knowing that if Kitty could hear and sense them, her boyfriend's presence would do good. Opening the first aid kit he had brought from the infirmary, Beast made clucking sounds in the back of his throat as he gently swabbed the wound with sterile wipes and checked the edges for the extent of the tearing. Kurt, suddenly conscious of his girlfriend's semi-nude state, pulled his shirt over his and and draped it over her breasts. Beast offered him a small smile and returned his attention to Kitty. "It seems she tore her stitches."
"Brilliant deduction, Holmes3," Logan murmured.
Beast glared at the other man and returned to looking at the wound. "She's already healed a bit, so the damage is minimal. She may be able to get by with butterfly sutures4 rather than sutures, but I need to take her down to the infirmary. What's all this?" Beast, too, noticed the powder on Kitty's abdomen. He sniffed it, eyeing Logan.
"I can't tell what it is...it doesn't smell like anything I know..."
"I'll see what I can turn up in the lab, then," Beast sighed. He scooped Kitty up easily and nodded to Kurt. "Would you like to come along?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Kurt did not have to be asked twice. He nodded mutely and followed the doctor and Kitty, his wounded tail dragging behind him.

Jean sighed and dumped the bowl she had abused into the sink. "I give up."
"Aw, babe, don't say that..." Scott said cheerfully. "I'm kinda liking the fruits of your labor..." He took one final lick of the chocolate-coated spoon before tossing it into the sink after the bowl.
"You're going to have a mouthful of cavities by Valentine's Day," she said tartly, brushing her hands off on her apron. "I just can't make fudge," she sighed.
"Don't worry about it!" Scott said, wrapping his arms around waiswaist and resting his chin on her shoulder from behind. "We've already got tons of cookies and candy...more than we can all eat even by New Year's!"
"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, though...It's traditional to have fudge." Her pout was obvious in her voice.
"Whose tradition?" Scott demanded gently, turning her to face him. She smelled like sugar and cocoa, and a smudge of chocolate decorated the corner of her mouth where she had sampled her most recent failure.
"Well, mine. Kif. f. At least, I wanted to make it a tradition." Jean wrinkled her nose in self derision. "Guess I'd better stick to making ornaments or something, huh?"
Scott got a wicked gleam in his eye. "How about we make another tradition? One just for us?"
"Oh? What would that be?" she asked slyly, picking up on his tone.
Leaning in close, close enough so that his words brushed her ear and sent shivers down her spine, Scott murmured, "Tonight. After everyone is in bed, meet me under the tree."
"_Under _ ?" she breathed, feeling a nervous giggle rising.
"Mmmmhmmm..." he nipped at her ear and smiled into her hair. "I've had this sick little fantasy of having you under the tree since...well, since I first equated you with sex."
"Beast," she murmured, lightly smacking his shoulder in pretend shock.
"I'm wounded!" he cried in mock-pain. "She thinks I'm another man! She doesn't even know my name!"
"Oh, I know your name, alright," she said, ducking from his grasp and setting to cleaning up the kitchen. "I'll prove it to you later..."
Scott gulped at her wink. "Jean!"
"Yeah...Jean!" Rogue mimicked, clomping into the kitchen from the mudroom.
"Rogue! You're getting snow all over the place!" Jean hurried to clean up the mess, meeting with a snort from Rogue.
"It's water, Red. It'll evaporate eventually." She shucked off her coat and sat at the table to take off her boots. "Where's Todd?"
Scott cleared his throat. "Haven't seen him all day...Er, is something wrong with you two?"
"Why do you say that?" thth gth girl snapped. "Just because he's a man-whore5 doesn't mean there's something wrong."
"Todd?" Jean said from the vicinity of the floor. "A...er...man-whore? I don't see that..."
_Jean...see... _ Rogue brightened. "Jean, can you do something for me? Please? And you know I don't say that often..." Rogue dropped to her knees to be on eye-level with her friend.
Jean got the full force of Rogue's insecurity and panic like a blow to the solar plexus. She knew what Rogue wanted, though she did not know just who she wanted it done to. "No! I won't violate someone's privacy like that!"
"Jean!" Rogue cried.
"Rogue!" Scott said, trying to stem her onslaught.
"Doctor Scott!6" Todd said from the doorway. He was smirking but his eyes were fixed on Rogue, an expression of nervousness lighting them from within.
Jean and Scott exchanged looks. She spoke up. "I...uh...I mean...Hey, Scott! Want to help me wrap presents? C'mon!" Jean grabbed Scott by the hand and dragged him from the kitchen, leaving Todd and Rogue staring at each other intensely.
Rogue rose to her feet. "I don't know what the Hell you think you're doing, but..."
"No, you don't, do you?" he snapped, surprising her. "You have no idea what I'm doing but you're willing to jump to the conclusion that I'm up to no good and fucking around on you! With Rahne, of all people!"
"And just what's wrong with Rahne?" Rogue asked, making Todd's head spin by defending her friend.
"Nothing! But she's not _you _ !" he said, cutting off her next snide comment. "Look, she and I are friends, okay? I did her a solid in D.C. and she's cool with me now, so chill!"
Rogue could not quell the doubt bubbling in her stomach, making her feel sick. "Why are y'all sneaking around then? Why didn't you tell me you were going into town?"
Todd sighed. "I was getting your present and I wanted a girl's opinion. And according to Jamie, Rahne is most definitely a girl, so I figured she'd be cool to go with. Anything else you want to know, warden?"
Rogue felt the pangs of nascent guilt. "Todd..." Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry...I don't know what came over me..."
"You're jealous," he stated simply. "You're jealous and have no reason to be. Instead of coming to me, you jumped to one huge fucking conclusion and decided not to trust me. Thanks, Rogue," he spat out. "I thought you loved me like I love you...now, I'm not sure!" He turned on his heel and stomped from the room, his hunched shoulders set against her.
"Todd!" she cried, dashing after him, nearly running over Jubilee and Rahne herself in the foyer. "Stop!"
He was halfway up the stairs when he turned to face her. "Rogue," his voice was stretched thin over frustrated anger, "I need to know if you love me, honestly love me. I don't want to be some consolation prize because you didn't get Pietro or because I'm the only one willing to touch you." He could see the pain his last comment caused but refused to apologize, promising himself that he would make it up to her later, hopefully. "I need for you to be honest with me and with yourself."
Ignoring her wide-eyed audience, Rogue moved to stand a few steps below Todd. "Of course I love you, Todd...I love you more than anything. What do I need to do to prove it to you?" She hated the begging tone in her voice but let it go, not caring if Jubilee and Rahne made fun of her for it later.
Todd sighed. "What do you need to do? Why don't you just show me sometime? Show me you love me..." He disappeared from sight before she could respond.
"Show him?" she said, mostly to herself. "_Show _ him? We hold hands in public, I hang all over him..."
"Um. Rogue?" Rahne said softly, making the other girl startle and spin to face her. "That's not really the same as showing him you love him...that's just showing that you want him..."
Rogue scowled for a moment, wanting to punch Rahne square in the nose, but she sighed instead. "I guess so..." Sniffing, dangerously close to tears, she turned and trudged up the stairs. "But how?"

The Professor covered his eyes with a damp, cool cloth, his migraine worsening by the moment. His phone conversation with Theo had done nothing to assuage his fears about the emergence of a new, dangerous group of mutants in the world and now, all the psychic stress flying around the mansion was seeping into cracks in his mental walls. Kitty had cried out to him when she fell and he heard Kurt's mental cry of anguish not a moment later. Her panic had sent bolts of white-hot pain through his mind, making Professor Xavier grimace in an ill-disguised response.7 Based on Theo's information, he had a sick feeling about what had happened to the trio in Mexico. The site, his friend reported, had been shut down for a week after a hideous rainstorm, coinciding with the age of the body found in the encampment. "The strange thing is, Charles, the body was a ritual sacrifice. It was done up like a sacrifice to Tlaloc, the rain god. They used to use kids and offer them up, cutting them in a certain way and using specific methods...someone out there thinks they're Aztec priests, it looks like!"
The Professor readjusted the cool cloth over his eyes. He had seen the trio's mental images of the Templo de Muerte, he had seen that, despite Theo's assurances, it was not a ruin-the murals were too exact and vivid in Jean's mind to be a construct of her imagination, Kurt's panic at the sight of a dais, the vague idea of murder...they all added to the confusion. To top it all off, he had received a cryptic phone call not an hour before Kitty's incident that evening, on his private line. "Look to the south for the new evil," the woman had said, her voice heavy and almost hypnotic. "Look to the south for Nature's sins..." The Professor sighed, making a mental aside to himself. _After all this is over, no one is taking any more trips. Ever. _
1 In my head, it's Hugh Jackman from t Men Men movie...*drool *
2 Cocaine, unlike pot, suppresses the appetite. Just look at Whitney Houston.... Ever see a fat crackhead?
3 Sounded classier than "No shit, Sherlock."
4 Those white, thin strips of bandages that they tend to cross when they seal you up. Like Band Aids but more adhesive.
5 I love that phrase. I'll go go so far as to admit I've seen Deuce Bigelow to credit the expression properly.
6 It's just a footnotey kind of chapterh? h? Shameless Rocky Horror Picture Show reference.
7 Okay, I just have to say...I know the Professor is this kick-ass telepath and all, but he's still human. The man will feel pain and he will have weak moments...I can't make him supermutant or something, so just deal with it if this bit bothers you...