Eloi
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Eloi Chapter Thirty Eight
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *glomp* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile is a lovely smutmuse and his work is rewarded today. J Morgan is around somewhere, I think… Readers/Reviewers: Voila…smut!
“Evan, don’t give me that look.”
“What the Hell kind of look am I supposed to give you? I’m fucking pissed off!” He turned sharply on his heel, sending a small spray of water across Callisto’s worse-for-wear jeans. “I’m not doing this. Fuck this, this is insane!”
She growled mostly under her breath and grabbed his elbow, jerking him back to her, his back pressed against her front as she bent to whisper in his ear. “You will do as you’re ordered. You came below because you said you were needed here, that you had much to offer us. Are you telling me now that you are just like those sniveling mutants you left behind? Those who would hide behind their lies of normalcy and purity? Our chattel?”
Evan made a noise of frustration, twisting free from her rather loose grasp. “What the Hell does that mean, chattel? That’s not even a word!” He made a brushing, sweeping motion as if wiping traces of her handprints off of him. “Just leave me alone! I won’t do this! I refuse to do it!”
Callisto gritted her teeth and closed her good eye. Evan was trying her patience more than she thought possible. She wanted to throttle him, choke him until his eyes popped then put his eyes back in and do it all over again. “Do not walk away from me, Evan. You agreed to do this and we cannot complete this mission without your assistance!”
“I didn’t know people were gonna die!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the tunnel walls. They were just below street level, the noises of post-midnight city life ebbing and flowing in tolerable levels above them. He knew anyone close enough to the sewer grate could hear him but he was willing to bet that, given the part of town they were in, no one would care. “I’m not going to help you kill my friends, Callisto!”
“I never said *anything* about killing them, Evan!” She was across the short distance separating them in just a few steps, pressing him against the cold wall at his back. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest and feel the warmth of him through her clothes. For a moment, she was struck by just how long it had been since she had been touched freely, by someone who *wanted* her, not someone who needed her for some task or expedition. Evan’s dark eyes flashed with anger and for just a split second she thought of how easily she could make him do what she wanted, make him touch her like that, feel him against her in the dark passageways beneath the city. She did not love him or even truly lust for him but he was serviceable, he was cleaner than most Morlocks and most of all…he had been kind to her before, when he first came below and had no one. He had not spurned her or feared her. Now, though, she could see it in his eyes and the set of his jaw, he hated her. Even if it was only temporary, he hated her. “I simply said,” she continued softly, “that people may die and this is a risky operation. We will have help. Essex has offered us help!”
Time seemed to stop for an inexorable moment. Evan was keenly aware of Callisto’s body against his, her firm breasts pressing near him, her warm scent, organic and not unpleasant, surrounding him. Her eye glittered at him in the darkness, transfixing him. He could feel the heat of her body, a sharp contrast to the clammy damp sensation of the wall at his back. _She’s not afraid of my spikes, _ flittered across his mind and was lost as Callisto shifted. He had never been with a woman before, not really. Only halfhearted, awkward fumblings in the dark, both at Bayville and in the Tunnels. He had thought Callisto was pretty before, in her own way, but he had never given being with her intimately any serious consideration. Now, though, he was damning his body for responding at the worst possible time to the nearness of hers. She shifted again, seeking to keep him from fleeing, and he felt the cold weight of the gun at her hip and the sharp prick of the knife at her waist as the weapons shifted with her. Reality snapped back and he looked up into her gaze. “Promise me,” he breathed. “Promise me no one dies.”
“Everyone dies, Evan,” she replied, her voice going soft against her will. Her body was quickening, warm weight settling low in her belly as she felt his reaction to her nearness pressed against her. It had been so long since a male—any male—had expressed any sort of interest in her that she was quickly losing sight of her reasons for not bedding Evan. She knew his age, knew he was young but not too young for her. She knew he was willing—the evidence was pressed between them—and her own body was ready, warm and wet and aching for touch, but she could not slow down. She would not jeopardize the mission for a quick fuck against the tunnel walls. But he felt good, pressing just so. She shifted again, her height making it easy to rub the source of her need against his own. He groaned so quietly it was almost inaudible and his eyes fluttered shut. “Everyone dies… most of us just do not know when. I cannot promise you that your friends will not die but I can promise you that I will not kill them with my own hands.”
Evan nodded, almost sighing in relief when she stepped away from him. He was so hard it caused physical pain, throbbing and aching low in his body, his limbs trembling slightly as he took several deep breaths, willing the arousal into submission. “You’re fucking cruel, man.” He glared at her in the dark. “Fucking cock tease.”
She raised a brow, stung by his words but refusing to rise to the bait. “If it’s a fuck you want, fine. But not now. We do this first then you get laid. Got it, Spyke?” She spit his name as if it were vile to her now. “You are not a child, and I am no toy. We go meet Essex and move. Then you get your fuck.”
He frowned deeply as she moved further down the tunnel, finding the metal ladder that lead to the surface. “Why do you trust him?” he called, not following her just yet.
“I don’t.” She paused, one hand on the manhole cover and one on the ladder. “But he’s our only option now.”
Evan opened his mouth to naysay that, to tell her there’s always more than one option, but the words fled before they could be spoken. _You’re a Morlock now, Evan, _ he reminded himself in his aunt’s voice. _Your options are gone. _
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Eloi Chapter Thirty Nine
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Did I send that song
to you? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena
and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting.
think I fixed it… Morgan:
Readers/Reviewers: Thank you lots and lots for reading/reviewing when
you can!
Wanda did
not know what to do, not that she would admit it to anyone.
she knew it like she knew her own name. But she could not find
bring herself to go back to Tabby. She
felt stupid, she decided. She had turned this into some sort of a knight’s
quest, seeking to prove her worth not just to herself but to her girlfriend and
to prove that she was not like her father, not like anyone else in the
Brotherhood, no matter what her past was.
_And look at where it got me.
_
Bayville
Women’s Shelter smelled like dust and bleach, an odd combination, all things
considered. Wanda hated being there,
taking up space when she knew other women needed her bed, but she had no where
else to go. The apartment had been turned, their belongings strewn everywhere,
anything that could have hidden a tangible secret broken open.
with some snippy note from the management office referring to a supposed loud,
drug induced party. Wanda pulled the
pink blanket up to her chin and stared at the ceiling.
throat sometimes. All this time I
could’ve been doing X and holding wild orgies… much more fun way to get
evicted. _
overhead flickered to life, the other women in the large room groaning as it
awakened them. The rubber-soled
footsteps of one of the hostel workers squeaked on the linoleum floor and Wanda
knew, without even looking, they were headed for her.
She sighed
and pushed herself up onto her elbows, wishing she had chosen a less unusual
fake name. “Yeah?”
bathed in two or three days and her hair was going every which way.
she was pretty certain that she stank to high heaven.
“Someone’s
on the phone for you. It’s a woman who
says she’s your sister.” The worker
paused, one brow quirking. “I thought
you said you were an only child. And your name was Germaine.
though.”
Wanda
thought furiously. _It’s one of
Magneto’s lame ass ploys.
away from the worker and pulling the blanket up to cover her head.
The worker
was quiet for a long moment, then sighed.
pass on a message because she said she knew you wouldn’t come to the phone, it
might be something along the lines of ‘Lucas is back’.”
Wanda
sucked in a painful breath, her eyes flying open.
blanket, staining her hands where they lay near her face, making her look as if
she were blushing from head to toe. Her
heart raced and stomach churned. “If I
did have a sister, which I don’t, and she did say something like that, where
would I find the phone to tell her to stop lying to me?”
Wanda
waited until she heard the squeaky footsteps fade and the light overhead turn
off before pushing the blanket away and standing.
ruled out most of the females that she *did* know. As she trudged down the hall
towards the front desk, done in colors of pink and red in some attempt to
convey female empowerment, her stomach churned acidly.
and knew her location or had made a really lucky guess.
and dwelling in Bayville…
_
“Just a
moment, miss!”
Wanda
paused, her hand inches from the receiver.
The tightly-curled hair of the woman behind the desk wobbled as she
hurried towards her. “Yeah?”
“You have
to sign this form before you can use the phone.
And initial here, here, here, sign there and put the
date next to your name on this pink sheet.
talk.”
“Huh? What?
Why?” Wanda recoiled slightly.
onto her toes and forcing her not to look away.
“I’m gonna use the phone, okay?
Keep your papers, keep your clipboard and if you fuck with me, you’re
gonna find out just how many places on the human body can be stapled
shut!” She shoved the woman away roughly
and grabbed the phone off the hook. The
urge to use her powers was nearly overwhelming.
She could feel it crackling through her, threatening to change
everything around her if she just let her control slip a fraction.
the receptionist behind her whimpering and no doubt pressing the security
button.
“Wanda,” a
slightly accented voice purred. “Today
was not a good day for me, I think. But
it is excellent for you. Lucas is
safe. He is at the school with those
pantywaist sorts.” A long pause ensued
where nothing but the sound of mutual breathing broke the silence.
“If you’re
lying to me, you piece of trash,” Wanda said in a low, tight voice, “you’ll
wish you’d never been born.” She slammed the phone down and stalked out of the
reception area, avoiding the demands that she wait and ‘get back here.’
shoulder, pushing the glass double doors open ahead of her.
into puddles of melted glass, tiny flames sparking through the droplets.
Wanda did not look back, pulling
her loose fitting shirt, stinking of sweat and dirt and worse, over her head
and throwing it into the first trash can she saw.
get the stench from her body before she returned to the Institute and
to fall and even less aware of causing ithref="#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title="">
any eyes that would pry. It was late,
the streets empty save for her and one homeless woman sleeping next to the
bakery, but Wanda knew she was not alone.
The feeling clung to her, crawling over her skin until she was forced to
stop. She was at the park at the end of
Elm, an old and dilapidated setting for children to play.
severe and seemed to come from all around her.
“Show yourself,” she said quietly.
her bra and pants, that her hair was plastered to her head with blood-warm
rain.
“You’ve grown since I last saw
you.”
Wanda’s hands clenched at her
sides. _Damn it! I’m too close for this!
Not now, goddamnit! _
voice and found herself staring. “
“You always did have a smart mouth.
No doubt from that Rom slut your father took up with.”
She started forward, her hands
coming up, power crackling through her fingers, but she found herself falling,
the concrete of the park’s sidewalk rising to meet her face.
knew she was fainting. “Fuck you,” she
breathed, catching herself and roughing the skin on
her palms. “Fuck you and
Essex rolled her onto her back with
the toe of his boot. “So do
murmured. “But not yet.”
companion in the car. Tarot was safe
from him for now but he would find her again.
The tracking device did not lie.
name="_ftn1" title="">
"Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;
mso-bidi-language:AR-SA'>[1]
Germaine, as in Germaine Greer…
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Germaine_Greer
name="_ftn2" title="">
"Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;
mso-bidi-language:AR-SA'>[2]
old Marvel-verse, before they limited her power to hex bolts, Wanda could
manipulate forces of nature on a small scale, among other things.