The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Chapter Fifty Two (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply


A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *sends more foil for Minerva * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting! ProPhile: wait for it… Morgan: I dub thee…soap! Readers/Reviewers: And it’s all downhill from here… ;)



Mystique stretched up on her toes, reaching over her head, her fingertips brushing the low ceiling, then lowering back into a flat-footed stance, her hands at her side. She always felt the need to stretch out after holding a form for a long time, but usually, she thought to herself, she had more than a few minutes. She felt tied in knots as she continued her trek through the bowels of Frost Manor. She passed the door which imprisoned Firestar and sighed. It was really a shame to lock her up, so useful that girl would be, but there was no time for retraining. Mystique barely broke stride as she pushed open the door to the large storage room where Sabertooth waited. “Things are going pear shaped,” she announced, shoving a box out of the way with her foot. “Do you have the link set up?”
He tossed what looked like half a walkie talkie set to her and grunted something that sounded like “Trying to,” but came out as more of an indigestive sound.
Mystique sighed. “One day, I’m going to misunderstand you and Magneto will have both of our heads for bed knobs.” She glanced at the small,tabltable console he had set up during her sojourn abovestairs and smiled thinly. “They’re all in place now? Good. Magneto wanted us to wait for his signal but…” She trailed off at a significant look from Sabretooth. “You get more like Lurch1 every day,” she muttered, turning away to make sure the door was secure. She leaned her back against the metal and sighed, peering at Sabretooth through narrowed golden eyes. “Do you ever wonder how you got to be here?”
“Came with you,” he shrugged, glaring at the device in his hand.
Only by virtue of her long association with him did Mystique recognize the attempt at wit. “I mean,” she rejoined, rolling her eyes slightly, “how you got to be at this point in your life? Never mind. It’s just a facetious question.”
Sabretooth raised a brow and watched her covertly as she strode across the makeshift control room and flipped open the panel concealing the secondary controls to the security system. It had been a stroke of luck that Magneto had discovered the flaws in Frost Manor’s security, and pure serendipity that Roulette had not completely vanished off the face of the earth. The Sentinels had been something else that had just seemed to fall into Magneto’s lap, their source something Sabretooth chose not to examine too closely. The way he saw it, he was going to survive, no matter who won, so he did not care really. If the Brotherhood was destroyed, he would find somewhere else to go. If they succeeded, he would be set for life. Or, he amended, as long as Magneto let him. Mystique swore under her breath and rattled some wiring, causing the lights to dim briefly before coming back up to full power. “Watch it,” he said belatedly, setting the communications device down on the worktable.
She glared. “Thank you for that sage wisdom, Viktor. I never would have thought of that on my own.” She slammed the panel down and bit her tongue on further bitter commentary. It would not do, she thought, to have dissention in the ranks at so critical a time. She happened to glance at his eyes and saw something there which gave her pause. “Now?” she asked dryly. “You pick the strangest times.”
“Like you don’t,” he muttered, closing the distance between them in two steps. He had never liked foreplay, not the tenderness that went with it, the teasing or the whispered endearments. He had a secret suspicion that Mystique might but she never complained, and she never initiated any when she was the aggressor. Instead, she bared her neck to him, wrapping her arms around his shouldes hes he lifted her easily, her bare legs going around his hips. He respected the fact she rarely, if ever, dressed. He knew it was because it made it easier for her to shift but he preferred, in these moments anyway, to think it was because she was above the petty concern for covering, beyond the “normal” human need to hide. He had tried nudity once, being more comfortable without the layers and binding fabric, but after causing Magneto to first choke on his coffee then issue written instructions for how to comport oneself while under the aegis of the Brotherhood, he had given in, not feeling like creating a rift between himself and the one person who seemed to find worth in him. He pressed into Mystique, her hiss of acceptance against his neck making his arousal fairly throb with need. She was ready for him—she always seemed to be ready and he wondered if that was just her, if she was one of those women who seemed to be perpetually turned on, or if it was because of him. He smirked to himself, deciding that it did not matter, and pressed her against the wall. She smelled like skin and sweat and something earthier and vaguely of bay rum2, her body strangely cool to the touch except in the places his hands and mouth could reach as he drove into her. She was not passive, writhing against him, biting his shoulder and telling him where to touch, how to touch… He could sense her ending, smell the sharp spike in the arousal coursing through her body, feel the tension build in her muscles. He thrust one more time, hard and fast, making her gasp. Grinding against her, his smirk became an outright smile as she bit down on her lip to remain silent, her pupils dilated in lust and release, her body trembling against her will as it clutched at him, taking in his own climax, letting him fill her and gasping anew as the heat from his release seemed to pour through her veins. Unguarded, she dropped her head to rest against his shoulder and he started, surprised. He did not know how to handle even accidental acts of tenderness, something that Phobos had found amusing so many months before, and Mystique seemed to not even notice.
She was the one to break away first, slithering out of his grasp and running her fingers through her dark red hair. “That took precious time,” she said stridently. “We need to contact Magneto and let him know we’re ready to start the final part of the attack.”
Sabretooth nodded. “Right. Time to begin.”


1 From the old show The Addams Family. Lurch was the minimal-syllabic butler: a tall, imposing guy who pretty much did what he was told.
2 They used to keep laurel leaves in dark rum to preserve them and over time, the alcohol became a favored scent because of the combination of the bay laurel scent and the dark rum, hence the name bay rum.