Every Breath You Take
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
3,655
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
3,655
Reviews:
13
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.
Every Move You Make
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I’ll be going down some very dark paths in this fic. I love Kurt. And we always hurt the ones we love. Don’t we? “Every Breath You Take” is a song by the Police from the eighties. I used to love the song. More than a decade later I listen to the lyrics and realize just how creepy they are. I think it’s perfect for this story.
BTW: This Kurt Wagner is the Nightcrawler from XMen Evolution and hasn’t had quite the rough life his comic book couterpart had. At least up until now.
Thanks to tkd for the review. In response, I’ve done a little tweaking of Kurt’s character.
05/24/2007 – I just found a major error on my part that had made all the character’s internal thoughts invisible when posted online. I usually refrain from pulling up my own stories so as not to inflate the hit counter, but apparently I need to proofread online.
{This means character’s internal thoughts.}
**This means projected thoughts, as in telepathy.**
Chapter 2: Every Move You Make
Her face ached where it pressed into her pillow. She could hear the boy’s voice shouting for release.
“Verdammt! Wake up! IchBIN piss auf mich im Begriff!.”
“Yeah, and you’ll damn well clean it up.”
{Shit. I left him tied up all night.}
She groaned as she sat up, her bruised cheek throbbed with the change in position. She stumbled to the cell door and opened it. She ignored his stares as she quickly released his restraints. She escorted him to the bathroom and locked him inside without another word.
She sat down heavily at her desk and picked up the phone to order their breakfast trays, half afraid she would be denied them as punishment. Then she pulled out a make up mirror to survey the damage. Half her face was livid purple.
{The boy can’t possibly have missed that. I am such an idiot!}
She pulled out the boy’s file to study again, but a mist of tears obscured the print. She could hear the sound of the shower coming from behind the door, so she had time to think.
{How can I do this? He’s just a kid!}
She rested her good cheek on her hand as she considered the options, none of them good. It was an old game, one she’d played with herself over each of her “pets.” The outcome was always the same.
{I’ll never get out of here alive.}
Cold truth.
Kurt never thought he could be so grateful for a simple thing like a shower. After he’d taken care of his most urgent need he’d climbed in, letting the steaming water sluice the sweat and tears from his fur. The places where he’d rubbed his flesh against the restraints were raw and they stung. But he didn’t care.
It was only when the water began to cool that he noticed the gnawing hunger in his belly. If the woman was to be believed, he’d not had a solid meal in two weeks. It certainly felt like it. He shut off the water and toweled off. Finding nothing to wear, he draped a towel around his hips and rapped on the door.
On the third knock the door was opened. She motioned him toward the cell without speaking. He could smell bacon and toast and his stomach growled loud enough for her to hear. She grimaced.
{Her face probably hurts.}
Kurt walked toward the cell quickly, hoping she wouldn’t insist he leave the towel behind. He could see his breakfast waiting for him, and for the moment the steel bars didn’t matter to him. She locked the cell door behind him. He ignored her as he concentrated on his meal. When he was done, she was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the sound of running water and the bathroom door was open.
What had happened last night? He remembered the phone call. He remembered the lights and the sound of footsteps, the voices. He’d not been able to see anything from his position on the table. Whatever she had told this “Commander” must have not been well received if that bruise was any indication.
{I wonder what it was.}
He shrugged to himself as he chased the last bit of egg around the tray with a crust of toast. He could see her tray sitting untouched on her desk. His meal had made little impression on the gnawing in his belly.
Then the woman came out, wrapped in a towel, her hair still damp. She tossed her clothes carelessly into a bin and pulled a foot locker from beneath her cot. She rummaged around a bit, and he blushed at what he could see beneath the edge of her towel. She pulled out some clothes and spread the towel across the bed before sitting down to dress. She seemed to take no notice of him at all. When she was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and shorts, she shoved the foot locker back into its place.
She stood and frowned at the tray of cold food. Setting the milk and toast aside, she picked up the tray and walked to the door of his cage.
“Still hungry?” He nodded silently and she slid the tray through a slot. She waited just long enough for him to take it, then returned to her desk. She munched absently on the toast and sipped her milk while she read something from a file. After a moment, she pulled a small bottle of pills from a drawer and washed down several with her milk.
“Next time I’ll order a bigger meal. You need more calories.” She spoke without turning to look at him.
Kurt finished her meal and stacked the two trays together, placing them back in the meal slot. When the woman finished her milk, she gathered the remains of her breakfast and his and tossed them all into another bin. She shoved the bin out into the hall and punched in a code on a small keypad next to the door to lock it.
She walked to the cell again and opened it, stepping inside. Kurt found himself retreating until his back was pressed against the bars.
“On the table, please.” Remembering the last time he’d been on the table, Kurt shook his head emphatically.
She stepped closer and patted the table. “On the table. Now.”
“Nein…”
“On. The. Table.” She waited a long moment, one hand resting on a cell bar as he calculated his chances of getting past her…What he would do after that, he didn’t know as all thought was driven out as searing pain struck his back. His body refused to obey him and it crumpled to the floor. He lay there a long moment, waiting for control to return. He rose to a crouch, ready to spring at her. She lifted a hand in warning.
“On the table.” She spread her fingers wide and golden sparks arced between them. He bared his fangs with a growl, but slowly climbed up onto the table.
“Lie down.” Her voice was hard, impatient.
“Nein. I will not.”
“This is not a game, boy. These people would think nothing of killing you or me. There is a whole lab full of butchers just waiting to cut us open and see what makes us tick.” Her voice was cold and angry. He swallowed convulsively and his resolve wavered.
“Lie down.” She had begun to glow and golden sparks snapped around her, dancing in her hair. He could see the energy beginning to arc toward the bars of the cell. Just like before. He tried to suppress the tremor of fear than crept up and down his spine as she reached toward him.
He lowered himself onto the table reluctantly. When she reached to fasten his restraints, he flinched, but the glow had faded and her hands were merely flesh again. Her expression softened as she checked each restraint.
“What happened to your face?”
“Someone hit me.” She glanced at his face briefly.
“Why?”
“Payback’s a bitch.” She shrugged.
His flesh began to tingle as her hands began to stroke up and down his body. He wondered what she meant, but soon all thought was driven from his mind as the sensations began to build, one upon the other. He hardly noticed when she stripped him of his towel.
“That’s it pet, relax. Feel my touch. Feel the energy caress you.”
The sensations intensified, becoming waves that seemed to travel from his hands and feet, through his limbs to pool around his groin. It began to throb and pulse and he vaguely heard his own voice whimpering with need as his hips seemed to move of themselves, searching for the contact that would allow him release.
“Listen to me, pet. I know what you want. What you need.”
Her voice was low and hypnotic, it seemed to come from both far away and deep within.
“I hold the key to what you need. In a single word, I can give you what you want.”
His body was shaking, now, the throbbing warmth building to an unbearable peak, yet he couldn’t find the release he groped for. He panted.
“Bitte…” He was writhing and moaning, sweat soaking his fur. His tail groped blindly, she caught it with one hand and the throbbing pulsed through its sensitive tip.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” Her hand brushed his straining erection, the slightest touch and he bit back a growl.
“Bitte…” He could not think to form the words.
“In English pet. Tell me.”
“I…I want to come. Please.” The last word came out as a sob.
“Good boy. That wasn’t so hard was it?”
Then she leaned close to his ear and grasped his erection firmly with one hand and spoke a single word. The energy throbbed in time with her pumping hand. He howled as he came, his seed spilling over her hand onto the fur of his belly, the sheet, some even stained her T-shirt.
He lay there stunned as she unshackled one hand and tossed the discarded towel onto his belly. Then she walked out and locked the cell behind her. He could hear the sound of running water from the bathroom again.
He awkwardly wiped at the mess on his belly, then gave up and reached to unshackle his other hand, his blunt fingers clumsy and shaking. He released his legs and did his best to clean up. When he was done he balled up the towel and tossed it angrily between the bars of the cell. He could hear the sound of a television and could make out her form on the couch, dimly lit by the flickering screen.
Confused and exhausted, he curled up on his side and tried to make sense of what had just happened to him. How had she done that to him? What word had she spoken in his ear? He could not remember and it seemed important.
He’d been nothing more than an animal, blindly begging her for release. He choked back tears and he bit his lips to hold back the sobs. He tasted blood where his fangs pierced his lips. Which did he fear more? That she would do it again? Or that she wouldn’t?
She couldn’t wait to flee the scene, wash the evidence from her hands.
{Oh God! I’m a monster.}
She sat on the couch, her back to the boy she’d just…what…she couldn’t even name what she had done. Just that it was wrong. She turned on the television, not caring what was on, just that it drowned out the sound of her sobs.
She closed her eyes, but that was no good. She could still see him, writhing on the table, lost in the passion she had created…
{No. Forced on him.}
She wiped her sweaty palms on the cheap upholstery, trying to blot out the feel of his velvety fur, the warmth of his dick in her hand, the feel of powerful muscles, straining writhing…
{You sick bitch.}
She turned up the volume a little more, trying to drown out the sound of his moans, the rasp of his breath. The desperation in his voice as he begged her to let him come…
{You made him beg. Plead.}
She brushed at the front of her shirt, something dry and scratchy. He’d come all over himself, her hand, even her shirt. She’d humiliated him.
{And you enjoyed it.}
Yes, she had.
{And you’ll do it again.}
It was necessary. If the training failed they’d both wind up in the lab, lobotomized or worse.
{Or he’ll wind up being “put down.” Like David.}
David. God, how he’d hate her if he knew what she’d done. How she hated herself, this place, and the things it had done to her.
{I’ll never get out of here alive.}
Somehow there’s comfort in that.
Cold truth.
Translations from Babelfish: (I don’t speak German.)
(1) ”I'm about to piss on myself!”
BTW: This Kurt Wagner is the Nightcrawler from XMen Evolution and hasn’t had quite the rough life his comic book couterpart had. At least up until now.
Thanks to tkd for the review. In response, I’ve done a little tweaking of Kurt’s character.
05/24/2007 – I just found a major error on my part that had made all the character’s internal thoughts invisible when posted online. I usually refrain from pulling up my own stories so as not to inflate the hit counter, but apparently I need to proofread online.
{This means character’s internal thoughts.}
**This means projected thoughts, as in telepathy.**
Chapter 2: Every Move You Make
Her face ached where it pressed into her pillow. She could hear the boy’s voice shouting for release.
“Verdammt! Wake up! IchBIN piss auf mich im Begriff!.”
“Yeah, and you’ll damn well clean it up.”
{Shit. I left him tied up all night.}
She groaned as she sat up, her bruised cheek throbbed with the change in position. She stumbled to the cell door and opened it. She ignored his stares as she quickly released his restraints. She escorted him to the bathroom and locked him inside without another word.
She sat down heavily at her desk and picked up the phone to order their breakfast trays, half afraid she would be denied them as punishment. Then she pulled out a make up mirror to survey the damage. Half her face was livid purple.
{The boy can’t possibly have missed that. I am such an idiot!}
She pulled out the boy’s file to study again, but a mist of tears obscured the print. She could hear the sound of the shower coming from behind the door, so she had time to think.
{How can I do this? He’s just a kid!}
She rested her good cheek on her hand as she considered the options, none of them good. It was an old game, one she’d played with herself over each of her “pets.” The outcome was always the same.
{I’ll never get out of here alive.}
Cold truth.
Kurt never thought he could be so grateful for a simple thing like a shower. After he’d taken care of his most urgent need he’d climbed in, letting the steaming water sluice the sweat and tears from his fur. The places where he’d rubbed his flesh against the restraints were raw and they stung. But he didn’t care.
It was only when the water began to cool that he noticed the gnawing hunger in his belly. If the woman was to be believed, he’d not had a solid meal in two weeks. It certainly felt like it. He shut off the water and toweled off. Finding nothing to wear, he draped a towel around his hips and rapped on the door.
On the third knock the door was opened. She motioned him toward the cell without speaking. He could smell bacon and toast and his stomach growled loud enough for her to hear. She grimaced.
{Her face probably hurts.}
Kurt walked toward the cell quickly, hoping she wouldn’t insist he leave the towel behind. He could see his breakfast waiting for him, and for the moment the steel bars didn’t matter to him. She locked the cell door behind him. He ignored her as he concentrated on his meal. When he was done, she was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the sound of running water and the bathroom door was open.
What had happened last night? He remembered the phone call. He remembered the lights and the sound of footsteps, the voices. He’d not been able to see anything from his position on the table. Whatever she had told this “Commander” must have not been well received if that bruise was any indication.
{I wonder what it was.}
He shrugged to himself as he chased the last bit of egg around the tray with a crust of toast. He could see her tray sitting untouched on her desk. His meal had made little impression on the gnawing in his belly.
Then the woman came out, wrapped in a towel, her hair still damp. She tossed her clothes carelessly into a bin and pulled a foot locker from beneath her cot. She rummaged around a bit, and he blushed at what he could see beneath the edge of her towel. She pulled out some clothes and spread the towel across the bed before sitting down to dress. She seemed to take no notice of him at all. When she was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and shorts, she shoved the foot locker back into its place.
She stood and frowned at the tray of cold food. Setting the milk and toast aside, she picked up the tray and walked to the door of his cage.
“Still hungry?” He nodded silently and she slid the tray through a slot. She waited just long enough for him to take it, then returned to her desk. She munched absently on the toast and sipped her milk while she read something from a file. After a moment, she pulled a small bottle of pills from a drawer and washed down several with her milk.
“Next time I’ll order a bigger meal. You need more calories.” She spoke without turning to look at him.
Kurt finished her meal and stacked the two trays together, placing them back in the meal slot. When the woman finished her milk, she gathered the remains of her breakfast and his and tossed them all into another bin. She shoved the bin out into the hall and punched in a code on a small keypad next to the door to lock it.
She walked to the cell again and opened it, stepping inside. Kurt found himself retreating until his back was pressed against the bars.
“On the table, please.” Remembering the last time he’d been on the table, Kurt shook his head emphatically.
She stepped closer and patted the table. “On the table. Now.”
“Nein…”
“On. The. Table.” She waited a long moment, one hand resting on a cell bar as he calculated his chances of getting past her…What he would do after that, he didn’t know as all thought was driven out as searing pain struck his back. His body refused to obey him and it crumpled to the floor. He lay there a long moment, waiting for control to return. He rose to a crouch, ready to spring at her. She lifted a hand in warning.
“On the table.” She spread her fingers wide and golden sparks arced between them. He bared his fangs with a growl, but slowly climbed up onto the table.
“Lie down.” Her voice was hard, impatient.
“Nein. I will not.”
“This is not a game, boy. These people would think nothing of killing you or me. There is a whole lab full of butchers just waiting to cut us open and see what makes us tick.” Her voice was cold and angry. He swallowed convulsively and his resolve wavered.
“Lie down.” She had begun to glow and golden sparks snapped around her, dancing in her hair. He could see the energy beginning to arc toward the bars of the cell. Just like before. He tried to suppress the tremor of fear than crept up and down his spine as she reached toward him.
He lowered himself onto the table reluctantly. When she reached to fasten his restraints, he flinched, but the glow had faded and her hands were merely flesh again. Her expression softened as she checked each restraint.
“What happened to your face?”
“Someone hit me.” She glanced at his face briefly.
“Why?”
“Payback’s a bitch.” She shrugged.
His flesh began to tingle as her hands began to stroke up and down his body. He wondered what she meant, but soon all thought was driven from his mind as the sensations began to build, one upon the other. He hardly noticed when she stripped him of his towel.
“That’s it pet, relax. Feel my touch. Feel the energy caress you.”
The sensations intensified, becoming waves that seemed to travel from his hands and feet, through his limbs to pool around his groin. It began to throb and pulse and he vaguely heard his own voice whimpering with need as his hips seemed to move of themselves, searching for the contact that would allow him release.
“Listen to me, pet. I know what you want. What you need.”
Her voice was low and hypnotic, it seemed to come from both far away and deep within.
“I hold the key to what you need. In a single word, I can give you what you want.”
His body was shaking, now, the throbbing warmth building to an unbearable peak, yet he couldn’t find the release he groped for. He panted.
“Bitte…” He was writhing and moaning, sweat soaking his fur. His tail groped blindly, she caught it with one hand and the throbbing pulsed through its sensitive tip.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” Her hand brushed his straining erection, the slightest touch and he bit back a growl.
“Bitte…” He could not think to form the words.
“In English pet. Tell me.”
“I…I want to come. Please.” The last word came out as a sob.
“Good boy. That wasn’t so hard was it?”
Then she leaned close to his ear and grasped his erection firmly with one hand and spoke a single word. The energy throbbed in time with her pumping hand. He howled as he came, his seed spilling over her hand onto the fur of his belly, the sheet, some even stained her T-shirt.
He lay there stunned as she unshackled one hand and tossed the discarded towel onto his belly. Then she walked out and locked the cell behind her. He could hear the sound of running water from the bathroom again.
He awkwardly wiped at the mess on his belly, then gave up and reached to unshackle his other hand, his blunt fingers clumsy and shaking. He released his legs and did his best to clean up. When he was done he balled up the towel and tossed it angrily between the bars of the cell. He could hear the sound of a television and could make out her form on the couch, dimly lit by the flickering screen.
Confused and exhausted, he curled up on his side and tried to make sense of what had just happened to him. How had she done that to him? What word had she spoken in his ear? He could not remember and it seemed important.
He’d been nothing more than an animal, blindly begging her for release. He choked back tears and he bit his lips to hold back the sobs. He tasted blood where his fangs pierced his lips. Which did he fear more? That she would do it again? Or that she wouldn’t?
She couldn’t wait to flee the scene, wash the evidence from her hands.
{Oh God! I’m a monster.}
She sat on the couch, her back to the boy she’d just…what…she couldn’t even name what she had done. Just that it was wrong. She turned on the television, not caring what was on, just that it drowned out the sound of her sobs.
She closed her eyes, but that was no good. She could still see him, writhing on the table, lost in the passion she had created…
{No. Forced on him.}
She wiped her sweaty palms on the cheap upholstery, trying to blot out the feel of his velvety fur, the warmth of his dick in her hand, the feel of powerful muscles, straining writhing…
{You sick bitch.}
She turned up the volume a little more, trying to drown out the sound of his moans, the rasp of his breath. The desperation in his voice as he begged her to let him come…
{You made him beg. Plead.}
She brushed at the front of her shirt, something dry and scratchy. He’d come all over himself, her hand, even her shirt. She’d humiliated him.
{And you enjoyed it.}
Yes, she had.
{And you’ll do it again.}
It was necessary. If the training failed they’d both wind up in the lab, lobotomized or worse.
{Or he’ll wind up being “put down.” Like David.}
David. God, how he’d hate her if he knew what she’d done. How she hated herself, this place, and the things it had done to her.
{I’ll never get out of here alive.}
Somehow there’s comfort in that.
Cold truth.
Translations from Babelfish: (I don’t speak German.)
(1) ”I'm about to piss on myself!”