Venomous

Jubilee POV



He’s waiting for me, in the darkened kitchen, when I’ve gotten rid of everyone, and changed into a pair of jeans and a white tee shirt. I come through the door and see his silhouette, the lean shift of his shoulder blade as he lifts the cigarette to his lips. I see the ember of ash at the tip flare to life as he inhales, and something twists in my belly. I lean against the doorframe and watch him, just for a moment, waiting for him to turn round and see me.

His eyes, pale and a little reddened at the edges from lack of sleep, turn toward me, his neck pivoting, a movement full of self confidence and absolute ego. 'Hey.' I grind out, a little put out to be in such close quarters after all the time I'd spent avoiding him.



‘Things went all right, then? Get that green ‘aired woman down ter th’ lower levels?’



‘Yeah.’



‘Sounds ter me like it was a long time comin’.’



‘Since I was about fourteen. Wolverine’s ex wife.’



‘Figured.’ He slides an empty glass toward me, then a nearly-full bottle of Jameson.



‘The good stuff.’ I smile gently, unscrewing the cap, pouring myself two fingers. ‘I guess being the King of England’s personal police force has its own advantages.’



‘Yeh.’ He moves forward, just gracefully enough for me to recognize how dangerous he is. Just gracefully enough for me to remember what he felt like moving against me. I feel heat rising to my face, and I sip scotch to cover our lack of conversation. ‘So, d’yer wanter tell me what it was all about? An’ why yer didn’t feel like tellin’ me before it ‘appened?’



I heave a sigh, as a small, very contrary part of me wants to demand to know what the hell he has to do with anything. But it’s just the stress. ‘I knew she was going to come after me when I showed back up on an official roster.’



‘Sit down, then, an’ let’s ‘ave it out.’ he takes another drag, drops the waning cigarette into the bowl of an ashtray, crushing it a little to extinguish it. I slide into a chair, and he sits across from me, our hands on the table, nearly touching, only not. Almost like it was at the Crown that night, almost a week ago. I’d barely seen him since then, and we certainly hadn’t had any time to talk.



‘Like I said, it all started when I was fourteen. Wolverine had been married to her for a while, and through various circumstances, I found a way to compromise their attachment.’ I look down at my hands, and a bit of something in one of my thumbnails suddenly becomes fascinating beyond belief. I stare at it for a moment. ‘It sort of involved throwing him at another woman. With whom he had a son. Who is now nine years old, and just about ready to be acknowledged as his heir in Madripoor. I take it you have a general idea of the situation there?’



‘I think Pryde went there a couple times, yeh. Talked about it, too.’



‘Yeah. She went to Wolvie’s wedding.’ My laugh is dry and humourless, and I drink more to cover how difficult it is to talk about this. ‘Anyhow, the thing is, Viper went after Hugo. His name is Hugo, by the way. And I managed to get him out of harm’s way and in the care of a woman who’s taken care of some of Wolv…Logan’s kids before.’ I catch myself this time, before I say the pet name I was once so accustomed to using. ‘Anyhow, she’s sort of been pissed off at me ever since, thinking she should inherit, and wanting to off this poor kid.’ I risk a glance at Wisdom. The exhaustion and stress combines to make me melt at the look in his eyes. He’s studying me carefully, but not like he’s afraid I’ll break or anything. No, I think he knows how tough I am. I fight against the rise of lust in my gut as my eyes trace his heavy forearms. I’m always a sucker for button-down shirts rolled up to the elbow. Don’t ask me why. And those hands again. Damn. ‘Well…I knew she was going to put a hit out on me, so I talked to Brian about working on making it go away, or catch her.’



'With you?'



'No, with the Hulk. Yeah, me.'



'Nah, I was just sayin’, cause I just…’



‘He wants me to be clean of any past I have before I start on this job. He also needed me to look badass in front of Mayor de Rothschild tonight. So two birds with one stone.’



‘So yer conspired with th’ King of England ter entrap a woman who wanted ter kill yer, an’ expected it ter go down without a hitch?’



‘I’ve dealt with Viper before,’ I shrug, beginning again to avoid his eyes, shooting back the rest of my drink and pouring myself a bit more. ‘She’s a lightweight.’ There’s a stammered pause, and then he touches me, skimming the back of my hand with his fingertips.



‘I don’t think we should be doin’ this, luv.’ My heart sinks. Well, fuck.



‘Well, yeah, I figured.’ I get to my feet, ‘I mean, you were the one who suggested this not be a one-night stand or anything. And I’m not gonna lie to ya, I like you, and the fact that you’ve—‘



‘Whoa, whoa, wait.’ He catches me by the arm. ‘Fuck, Lee, yer run ahead of yerself pretty quickly.’ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I meant we shouldn’t be drinkin’. I do like yer, I do want this not ter just be a one-off. What I said then still stands. An’ I’ve been arguin’ with meself this entire time, cause I’ve never been one ter turn down drinks with a gorgeous woman, but we’ve done th’ drunk sex thing an’…an’ I don’t know if it’s th’ best idea.’



‘The. Best. Idea.’ I repeat slowly, blinking at him. ‘You don’t want me, then?’



‘I just mean that I’ve ‘ad yer when yer were a bit tipsy. An’ I might want ter fuck yer sober this time.’ The words sink into me, and I barely have time to register his movements before he has me up against the wall, mouth somehow finding mine, tongue forcing my lips open, his hands coming roughly up under my shirt. The taste of him is nicotine and exhaustion, but I can bring him alive. I yank his tie looser, the buttons on his shirt slipping open of their own accord. My hands slide up his lean stomach, to his chest, tweak his nipples, thumbs careening toward his collarbone. I pull away, long enough to bring his shirt upward, my hands just scarcely skimming his skin, my mouth lowering to that hollow just below his ribcage, sliding downward as I reach for his belt. ‘Wait a second.’ He hisses, breathlessly. ‘Yer room, it’s on th’ first floor, yeh?’



‘Yeah. Come on.’ I lead him to it, impatiently rushing down corridors, ignoring the servants we pass, and as soon as we’re behind the closed down, my hands are on him, unbuckling and tugging down the zipper of his jeans.



‘No, yer don’t, Lee.’ I've rarely seen a man move so quickly with his pants around his ankles, but he manages to overturn me onto the bed, kicking the trousers off, shoes and socks following. He crawls between my legs, ghosting nipping kisses over my knees, biting my hips and grinding his teeth gently enough that I cry out a little. I feel his stubble scraping along my inner thighs, his breath prodding my burgeoning arousal, and he lowers his mouth to me, just brushing along my netherlips, nuzzling, hands pushing my legs apart, fingers sliding along as I open, thumb grazing my clit. The spark is nearly electric, and my hips buck at the sudden intensity.



‘Oh, God.’



‘Yer can call me Pete, just this once.’ I feel him grinning against my leg, ‘but next time, it’s back ter God.’ My laugh turns into something more primal as he continues his objective, pulling me up against his open mouth, alternating suckling and licking with playful, gentle nips, and oh, yes, I’m going to come.



‘Mmph! Oh my God!’ I grind out, and just as I begin to tremble and peak, he stops. My growl of frustration clashes with his low chuckle.



‘I told yer, call me Pete tonight.’ He slides up my body, and the silken slide of his skin against mine is oh, so lovely. His cock twitches against my belly, and I reach a hand between us to palm it. He closes his eyes for a moment, catching his breath. ‘Give me a second.’ He pulls away, rummaging in his discarded trousers for protection, ripping open the small square and slipping it on. He lies beside me, kisses me gently, against the line of my jaw, and I turn my face into the kiss, tasting myself in his mouth. ‘Want yer doing the work tonight.’ His eyes are smoky, dark, hands guiding my hips as I straddle him.



My hands come up, to his ankles, skimming up his legs and thighs, clutching his hips briefly before lowering my mouth to his navel, tongue dipping in, then swiping upward, forward, touring round his nipples. He gasps as my hand comes round his shaft, and I straddle him, my sudden domination unspoken and undeniable. A movement of my hips, and he is sheathed in me to the hilt. I moan at the contact, flesh and heated flesh, and I catch, with pleasure, the helpless sound he utters. I raise myself nearly off him, lower again, slowly, twice, then suddenly impale myself on his cock at an angle that brushes my g spot and curves a smile across my lips. He shudders, and I move my hips, quickly, rotating them, manipulating my inner muscles around him to tease, to simulate a stroke without moving. I angle myself backward and writhe on him, no words spoken, our eyes open and connecting intensely. The sensation is fantastic, and his hands come to my rear, hard, fingers kneading, grasping, and the intensity rockets to my core.



I increase my speed, my control blaring volumes, bringing us both to the brink, and suddenly I withdraw. He follows me, bewildered, jaw gaping, mouth seeking mine. ‘Punishment?' he asks, an undercurrent of frustration needling in his voice.



I laugh, low, throaty, my best sex kitten laugh, coming up on hands and knees and wiggling my posterior in his direction. 'Fuck me from behind.'



He doesn't hesitate a moment, but the quick slash of his grin in the darkness tells me he loves being ordered about. He may never want to be tied up, but I'll be damned if he doesn't like being psychologically domineered, for all his protestations. Positioning himself behind me, he frames my ass with his hands and trails a hand along my wet netherlips. I stifle a moan, but buck against him as he brings his cock to me, and takes me hard and fast, as, I think, the position dictates. Time after time he slams into me, and I fuck him back, resting on my forearms and whimpering into the mattress as he brings me to a quick finish. I bite down hard on his pillow, and moan and squirm about how I've just come so hard, and he shudders once before he pumps into me again, twice, three times, and finishes, collapsing onto my back, his warm skin coming into contact with mine, hair and muscle meeting the chilled, smooth softness of my body. His hands, already busy again, running up and down my ribcage, elicit slight giggles, and I roll over to capture his mouth in mine.



'Ticklish?' he murmurs.



'Mrm.' I assent, and he reaches across the bed to snag a cigarette from my end-table. I watch him light up curiously, the beautiful ember at the tip flaring to life, and he sucks in, exhales beautiful smoke. It's the thing I love about watching people smoke. The almost decorative flair of their exhaust, trailing from their cigarette, or from their mouth or nostrils. It's very therapeutic, nearly as calming as having a cigarette myself. He brings me, almost subconsciously, into his body, and I follow, my domination short-lived and purely illusory.



‘So, you gonna let me stay ‘ere tonight?’



I hesitate, if only for a moment, but I’m too comfortable to deny it. Besides, it isn’t as though he’s just proposed or anything. ‘If you want, I suppose there’s no harm in it.’



‘Yeh. I’m mostly ‘armless when I’m unconscious.’



‘Don’t go unconscious yet.’



‘Won’t. Gimme ten minutes, yer won’t remember anything but me name. Maybe not even that.’



‘Promise?’



‘Promise.’