Every Breath You Take

Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I’ll be going down some very dark paths in this fic. I love Kurt. And we always hurt the ones we love. Don’t we? “Every Breath You Take” is a song by the Police from the eighties. I used to love the song. More than a decade later I listen to the lyrics and realize just how creepy they are. I think it’s perfect for this story.

Rather than bogging down following chapters with increasingly long author's notes, I will use the "Review" function to respond to reviews. -- Yes I definitely still want them and this Chapter is a direct result of a review. I had these events in my mind, but was going to leave them out of the story.

BTW: This Kurt Wagner is the Nightcrawler from XMen Evolution and hasn’t had quite the rough life his comic book couterpart had. At least up until now.

05/24/2007 – I just found a major error on my part that had made all the character’s internal thoughts invisible when posted online. I usually refrain from pulling up my own stories so as not to inflate the hit counter, but apparently I need to proofread online.

{This means character’s internal thoughts.}
**This means projected thoughts, as in telepathy.**


Chapter Six: …You belong to me

The first time it happened, he shrugged it off. He remembered waking up to her voice and eating breakfast. She’d loosened up enough to chat about something neutral. Movies he thought…then nothing until he found himself under the shower, soap in his hand and hot water pounding his body. He finished his shower and toweled off, finding that it was already time for lunch. By the time he finished his meal, he had forgotten the incident.

The next time it happened was harder to ignore. He woke up on the table, alone, muscles sore and aching, his fur itchy with sweat. His knuckles were cut and his face felt bruised. Had he been in a fight? Had he hurt someone? A few moments later *she* came sailing through the door to their quarters, smiling, carrying a first aid kit in her hand.

“The Commander was impressed by our little demonstration this morning.” She entered the cell still talking as he looked at her in confusion. “I think he’s actually taking my application to be a Handler seriously.”

“Handler?”

“Yes. Your Handler. Are you O.K?” She stopped and looked at him, brows drawn together in concern. “We made a pretty good team. You took out six of his men without breaking a sweat.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You did…You do remember don’t you?”

“Yes…I’m just…kind of groggy. I must have fallen asleep.” She gave him another long look before opening the kit and beginning to bandage his abused knuckles.

“Makes me wonder how I survived your little…episode. You could have killed me.” Her eyes flicked from his face to his hands and back again.

“You caught me by surprise. That’s all. Won’t happen again.” He pulled his hand out of her grasp. His confusion began to turn to anger. Who was she? He never knew from moment to moment.

“You’re not a killer.” She concentrated on packing the kit back up. “I should know, I’ve trained a few.” She turned her back on him and stepped toward the door.

“Are you sure?” He moved fast, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around, slamming her back into the cell bars. The first aid kit fell to the floor with a thump. She raised her hands to his chest as if to push him away, but stopped when he growled.

“Stop it.”

“Make me.” He leaned forward, pressing his body against hers, holding her against the bars as he brushed his lips against her neck. He heard the sharp intake of breath as her breasts pressed against his chest.

“Damn it, Kurt! I should fry you.”

{Gotcha! You only call me Kurt when you want me.}

He tasted the skin of her neck and grabbed her wrists, forcing them back and pinning them to the bars behind her. He bit her then and heard her whimper as he tasted the salty tang of her blood.

{Mine.}

He ground his hips against hers. She whimpered again, but her hands wrapped around the bars behind her and he released her wrists, knowing he’d won. He raised his lips to hers, letting her taste her own blood. She kissed him back hungrily while he grasped the front of her blouse and yanked it open, sending the small buttons flying.

{Who’s in control now?}

He yanked impatiently at her skirt, pulling it down to pool at her feet. She stepped out of it and he kicked it aside. He looked at her again. Her eyes were wide, pupils dark and stormy. Her mouth was open, lips still wet from his kiss. Blood trickled from the bite on her neck, staining her blouse. He could see her nipples straining through the fabric of her bra and he could smell her scent.

He reached for her again, pulling her bra downwards roughly. He squeezed one breast hard, not caring that he was probably bruising her. He kissed her again, letting his fangs nip at her lip, drawing more blood. She released one hand from the bars, reaching for him, but he caught it and placed it firmly back on the bar.

{I’m going to make you scream.}

He placed one hand around her neck, tightly, not quite cutting off her air supply. He watched her eyes as he reached downwards to strip her of her panties. Her eyes widened for a moment, then closed slowly. Her hands were white-knuckled where they grasped the bars.

“Look at me!” Her eyes snapped open. He placed his hand against her groin, and found her already wet. He rubbed her hard, then slipped a finger inside. He watched her face, his hand still around her neck. She bit her lip as he stroked her hard, watched her flinch from the harsh treatment. But the wetness between her legs grew and he could feel her pulse under his thumb. Fast and strong. She drew in a sobbing breath as he felt the muscles around his finger begin to contract. He squeezed her neck a little harder as she came with a throaty moan.

{I could kill you. You wouldn’t even try to stop me now.}

Then he released her neck and grabbed her hips, raising her up. She held tightly to the bars and wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed her against the bars, thrusting his cock inside her. He began to pump hard, lifting one hand to grasp the bars, using the leverage to keep her firmly trapped between his body and the hard steel. She struggled to meet his thrusts and he smiled grimly at her grunts of effort.

When he felt her begin to tighten around him, he pulled her closer and buried his fangs in her shoulder. She screamed and bucked against him in surprise and he felt sparks snap and crackle across his fur. He held on and sucked at the bleeding wound as he continued to pound her mercilessly. He ignored her wordless cries as he sought his own satisfaction. Finally he released her shoulder and came with a growl. He held her tightly for a long moment before letting her down slowly to the ground.

“What the fuck was that, Kurt?” She was trembling and the bite on her shoulder was bleeding.

“Payback’s a bitch.” She stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, then turned to snatch up her skirt and started to walk out. Kurt felt a pang of guilt and reached to stop her. “Wait.”

“Don’t touch me.” She sidestepped him and held up her hand. But there were no sparks. Kurt snagged the first aid kit with his tail and held it up.

“You’re bleeding.” She reached up to check the bite on her shoulder and her fingers came away bloody.

“Sonovabitch!”

“Let me take care of that.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“If I am, it’s your fault.” He shrugged at her, still holding the kit.

“No more tricks.”

“I’ll be good. I promise.” And he was. He was gentle and thorough as he sat her on the table and tended to the wounds he had caused. He’d made his point and he’d learned something important. She hadn’t defended herself. Those sparks had been the effects of drawing her power back on herself.

{She cares more about me than herself.}

As she locked the cell behind her and headed for her bed, he snagged her forgotten panties from the floor and balled them up in his fist.

{How fucked up is that?}


{What the fuck is the matter with me?}

She lay in bed, back turned to the man who’d invaded her life and turned it inside out. The bites on her neck and shoulder hurt beneath the bandages and she knew she would be stiff and sore in the morning.

{Am I that masochistic?}

She’d enjoyed the whole thing, up until he’d bit her shoulder and she’d lost all control. What had happened to Alpha-9, mutant trainer? She had never let anyone challenge her the way he did. Never risked losing control of her gift. And she had. He couldn’t know how close he’d come. In that cell a slip like that could go from dangerous to deadly.

{I don’t know who I am anymore.}

Hot tears tracked down her cheeks and she muffled her sobs in her pillow. Impossible scenarios of living outside the facility with him or even without him flickered through her minds eye. She clutched her pillow tighter, trying to blot them out.

{Don’t be an idiot.}

Instead she focused on this morning’s events. Halfway through the training period, the Commander had demanded a demonstration. She’d skipped their morning session and had instead used the implanted commands for the first time. His face had been expressionless as she outlined a series of commands in preparation for their performance.

“We will leave our quarters and go to a special gymnasium for the demonstration. After the demonstration we will return here and you will go to sleep. From the time we leave this room until we return you will respond only to my commands. Do you understand?”

“Yes Trainer.”

“Today you will be asked to disable your opponents without causing them any lasting harm. This is very important. Do you understand?”

“Yes Trainer.”

“I have one more instruction I want you to remember, because I will not repeat it once we leave the room. I am your Handler. Each of your opponents will also have a Handler. Each Handler will have a device that allows him to control his Subject. You will bring me those devices without harming the Handlers. Repeat the instruction.”

“Remember instruction. Take devices from opponents’ Handlers and give them to you. Do not harm the Handlers.”

“Very good. Beta-6.”

It had been a risky move, to go beyond the outlined objectives of the demonstration. But, it had paid off. Kurt had performed flawlessly, able to choose his own strategy and tackle each opponent his own way. Of course they weren’t allowed to remove his collar. That would have been out of the question.

Kurt was been pitted against the three Gamma-level mutants that had been implanted with the “marionette” control devices. Their heads were covered in short stubble and the scars from the surgery were still red and angry looking. When at rest, they did not speak and would become engaged in repetitive behaviors. The woman would sit and rub her hand over her scalp as if searching for her missing hair. One man would cross and uncross his legs repeatedly and the third rocked back and forth in his seat. The sight made her queasy and she regretted having eaten breakfast.

{I’ll die first.}

The woman’s skin was scaly and she spit a venomous substance and possessed wicked claws. The first man was massively strong, but his body was grossly misshapen. The second man possessed ocher skin, red eyes, and could burn flesh with his touch. Their Handlers were all normals -- soldiers, clean cut and well built.

She’d held her breath as she’d watched him. The tumbling routine she’d observed before was nothing compared to this violent dance. He’d leapt and dodged with a grace that fascinated her. The Gamma’s had been slower to react and their Handlers appeared to be competing with one another. Kurt had little trouble picking them off one by one.

The larger man had gone down first, his greater bulk making him much too slow to defend himself against Kurt’s strike and dodge tactics. A well-placed punch to the jaw had knocked him out. The woman was next with a flying kick to her back that sent her tumbling into the third Gamma. The last one had been trickier; Kurt had pinned him down with an exercise mat and had simply beaten him into submission through the thin cushion.

When he’d come for the Handlers, they’d nearly panicked. The first one went down without landing a single blow. The second one managed to punch him in the face. The third turned and ran and was knocked to the ground from behind.

When Kurt brought the control devices to her, the Commander had actually laughed.

“Good work Alpha-9.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

{I remember. But he doesn’t.}

She hadn’t told him to forget. She’d seen this side effect before, especially once the pain-instruction had begun. As long as the amnesia was limited to carrying out commands she wouldn’t worry about it.

{Yeah, right. No worries.}

In the morning, they’d begin again. It would be a long day for both of them. She clutched her pillow tightly and willed herself to sleep.