Sins of the Father

Sins of the Father Chapter Thirty Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta... look for the other fics to be coming your way soon, lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are warm and fuzzy goodness for archiving/hosting! ProPhile...I'm a day behind! Eep! Morgan: *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: More plot forthcoming! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!

Jubilee blinked owlishly at Emma. "But...that's not right, is it? I mean..." She exhaled shakily, the taste of bile sour on her tongue. "I want to believe you."
"Then do," Emma sighed. She pushed an errant lock of platinum hair behind one ear inelegantly and glanced back over her shoulder. "You do realize we're going to be severely... scolded?"
Jubilee snorted. "I think that's an understatement. Besides," she added, sliding into the passenger seat, "Professor Xavier can't get mad at you...You're helping!"
Emma sighed again. Jubilee seemed to be functioning on some level of intelligence below her usual self, and frankly, she could not blame her. "It's very important that you do as I say, Jubilation. You remember how to shield? Good. Do it now. Do it until I tell you it's okay to stop."
Jubilee nodded and curled her fingers around the seatbelt's chest strap, staring straight ahead. "Why didn't the Professor believe you? You said he..." She trailed off as Emma tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the steering wheel. "Sorry."
Emma made a noise low in her throat that was either disgruntled or assent. Either way, she did not speak as she pulled the car out of the garage and swung onto the paved drive leading to the wrought iron gate. She felt a pang of nervous fear as they neared the device, wondering if her former lover was paying attention, if he would try to stop them, but the gates swung open easily at a simple command from her mind. She did not realize that she had been holding her breath until they were off of the blacktop road and onto the gray concrete of the main thoroughfare through Bayville. "Okay," she breathed. "Now listen to me and listen well, Jubilee. I do not agree with what is going on at the Institute. I am not going to drag you into it any more than you have been already but I will tell you that I believe a serious error has been made in the name of pride and I am not about to let it continue if I know a way to stop it!"
"Stop...what? I thought you were going to take me to Remy..." Jubilee's knuckles were white, she was gripping the seatbelt so tightly. She felt her breath coming in short gasps, the panic that had been threatening for the better part of an hour on the verge of spilling over into ragged tears or worse. "Emma, where are we going?"
"Boston," she said tightly. "There's some people I need to see."
Jubilee gasped, her eyes filling with tears. "You lied to me!"
"Honey," Emma bit out, "you're going to find out I'm one of the few people who isn't lying to you."

Lance groaned softly, his throat raw and hot. He felt cold stone under his back and for one horrible moment was transported back to his childhood bedroom, the carpet ripped up after one of his father's fits, his body sore and bruised from some imagined infraction he had to be punished for... The soft rustle of fabric, the scent of warm amber resin, made him realize differently, though. "Amara?" he groaned. "Amara?"
"Shhh..." The sound was almost serpentine as she leaned over him. "Be quiet..."
He groaned again as he felt her warm hands on his throat and forehead, feather-light and seemingly looking for injuries. "Where are we? What happened?"
"Shhhh..."
He inhaled sharply as he felt her nails drag across his bare chest. He wondered dimly where his shirt had gone to but did not give it much thought as her lips followed her fingers, the heated touch of her mouth on the red marks she had left with her nails. "Princess, what're you doing?" He opened his eyes and tried to crane his neck to look at her but found himself being pushed back down against the hard floor as she slid her hands down his body. Her tongue traced wet patterns down his stomach to the edge of the waistband of his jeans as her fingers worked the fastening open. "Amara..."
Her gaze snapped up, her eyes nearly glowing in the dim room. "Be. QUIET," she snarled, yanking his zipper down savagely.
He hissed in slight pain as she jerked him free of his clothing, her fingers closing around his semi-erect length. He was not sure what she was playing at but was disconcerted to find that he was hardwired to respond to her being dominant and commanding. He closed his eyes and tried to relax but could not manage-the floor was too hard, too cold, the room was strange and his mind was addled beyond comprehension. "Amara, stop."
She paused, her lips just barely brushing the head of his growing arousal. "You're not listening to me, are you?" she breathed, her tongue flicking out across the purpling flesh. "You need to learn to do as you're told."
Lance felt his breath catch in his throat at the familiar tones. She squeezed him tightly, her nails biting into the flesh of his thighs as she shifted to lay between his knees. "Amara, please..."
"That's more like it." She captured the tip of his length in her mouth, drawing achingly slow on his turgid flesh.
He could not help himself. He groaned, his fingers clutching at her hair until she threatened pain with her teeth. He could feel her tongue slide down the underside of his arousal. He could feel himself growing painfully hard but at the same time, knew the wrongness of the situation. He took a deep, shaking breath and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Amara, stop. Now."
She paused, pulling away and rocking pack on her heels, glaring. "Why?" she demanded petulantly. "You're not obeying me..."
He grabbed her wrist as she reached for him again, noticing the fresh bloodstains on her sleeves. She wore the sweater she had on earlier in the day but now, it seemed she had replaced her jeans with some flowing white material. "Amara, what the fuck is going on here?"
The chamber flooded with light, revealing a row of three metal tables that put Lance in mind of autopsy tables. Poena stood uncomfortably close to the platform they were one, frowning deeply. "She is failing miserably."