Blueshift

Blueshift Chapter Forty One (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *GLOMP * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and the missing Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting… :) ProPhile: *gold star * Morgan: You there? Readers/Reviewers: Thanks for reading and reviewing as you can. Now if I can just find the randomly vanishing people, it’d all be good.

Lilandra did not move as Professor Xavier made his way past her and her companions, the narrow hallway providing little room for error as the wheels on his chair made soft hushing noises on the soft runner lining the wooden planks of the floor. She stared down at the top of his head and seemed fascinated by the very fine down of hair remaining, virtually unnoticeable to the casual observer, following the faint blue line of the vein running beneath his scalp near the surface with her eyes. The taller of her two companions elbowed her sharply but she did not react outwardly. She felt the certainty of her mission solidify deep within her, burning bright and warming her limbs in the cold place that was the world of the primitives. “Charles Xavier,” she said quietly as he pushed open the door to his private study, secluded from the students below and even from Logan and Storm and the other adults. “You called to me.”
He paused, not looking up but feeling her gaze intently. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said finally, pushing the door open and moving inside the dark, cool study. Snow had piled on the windowsill, throwing shadows in the moonlight across the highly polished floors, making lagoons of the scattered rugs and a lake of the sofa and wingback chair. “Please, be seated,” he added solicitiously, turning on the recessed lighting overhead and altering the moonlight’s illusions to make tapestry animals of the shadows and furniture.
“You are afraid?” the shortest of the three aliens asked in a stilted manner. “Of death? We understand that your primitive bodies are frail, far less useful than our superior forms…”
Lilandra gave her a significant look, silencing the nascent ramble. “Charles Xavier,” she said softly, as if savoring the name.
“Yes?” he replied, his brows arching. “I am not afraid of death,” he said after a brief pause. “By ‘I am afraid,’ I meant that I need further clarification on your statement and was being polite.” He steepled his fingers under his chin and regarded his guests intently. “There are many things I used to believe in that I no longer do and many things I used to dismiss as nonsense, I find that I hold quite dear now…”
Lilandra smiled briefly and sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting until her companions seated themselves before speaking again. “I am in need of your help, Charles Xavier. You called to me, your powerful mind, unlike others of this primitive race… your mind called to mine, guided us here. We find you all… fascinating.”1
The Professor fought hard against the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. The entire scenario was beyond surreal. He knew that most of the students and a fair number of the adults believed these visitors to be some sort of Morlock, mutants isolated from the rest of the world and believing themselves to be some superior being, though lacking the malice of The Brotherhood. He cleared his throat softly and refocused. “Tell me why you need help.”
“A war is growing close,” she said flatly. “Your world is doomed, my throne has been ripped from me and the usurper stands to lay waste to all in his path.”
“Well,” Professor Xavier breathed after a long moment. “I think I need whiskey.”

“Would you love me even if I were crazy?”
“Was?” Kurt paused, looking up from his attentions to Kitty’s turgid, dusky nipple. Her tone was so conversational that it was almost as if she were not noticing all of his nibbles and licks and pinching.
“If I were crazy, would you love me?” she asked again, trailing her fingers lightly across the back of neck. “Not treatable-crazy but I mean really fucked up…” She curved her leg around his thigh, pressing close against him as she stared at the ceiling, her throat and cheeks flushed pink.
Kurt hesitated, uncertain if this were some sort of test or if Kitty was just really good at multitasking. “Ja, of course,” he said finally. “No matter what.”
“Mmmm,” she replied, the sound rising from low in her throat and sending a shiver straight down Kurt’s spine.
He bent his head to her other nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak and drawing on it softly, increasing pressure until she gasped and arched against him. It was late but he could hear others moving in the hallway, whispering softly about the odd developments in the Institute. This was their first time to be alone in a few days and he would be damned if he let the gossiping students stop them. His fingers skimmed down her side to her hip, pressing a bit more firmly as he reached her inner thigh. Kitty had been late. She had told him she had been talking to Jubilee and he believed her but she had looked so shaken that he worried it was something terrible, some bit of bad news she was afraid to tell him for some reason. Kitty mewled softly as his fingers reached the silken folds of her sex, teasing the sensitive flesh as he slowly pressed a finger within her. “Why do you ask?” he murmured, breaking away briefly to catch his breath. Her body tightened and grew more slick with desire as he probed her folds gently, rubbing against the hidden nub that brought so much pleasure. Kitty shook her head silently, closing her eyes and arching her throat. Kurt kissed her neck, letting his fangs scrape gently against the tender flesh over her pulse point, tracing the heat of life with the tip of his tongue. Kitty’s heart beat quickened against him, her warm body rubbing against his, her breasts and stomach and sex all tantalizing him, teasing him as she gasped and made small, panting sounds low in her throat. She shivered and clutched at him, her arms going around his neck as he curled his finger inside her, rubbing against the rough patch just inside her sex, sending her over the edge of pleasure. As she gasped her release, he nuzzled her ear, slowing his movements until she gently pushed him away, catching her breath. “Katzchen,” he whispered as she composed herself, “I would love you no matter what.”
“Good,” she sighed, sounding an odd mixture of resigned and satiated, “because the gods are back.”


1 That came out more Spock than I intended…