In the Beginning

Mystique lay in bed at the mansion, staring up at the ceiling. She was nearly asleep, and her mind was wandering, dancing through vague images and ideas...memories. Pyro may not have noticed the way that Erik was looking at him, but she certainly had, and she wasn't sure she liked it. The faint stirrings of jealousy had begun a week ago, when she and Erik had been making love, and the boy had walked in. Erik had practically insisted that the little firestarter get involved, and all Mystique really wanted was for him to go away. It had ended up being good sex after all, since Pyro was surprisingly adequate at anal intercourse, but the jealousy remained. Erik was hers, always had been! Leave it to some whiny teenager to come between them.

Erik was her first.

There were others, certainly, but none of them took his place in her memory. She had been alone when she met him, a gawky, awkward teenager, and on her own after being banned from her parents' house, and he’d found her in much the same way that Rogue and Logan had discovered the X-Men—entirely by chance. He’d taken her under his wing, so to speak, and even the deep gratitude she felt towards him paled in comparison to her awe. That had been twenty-three years ago. He was forty-three, and she was fifteen.

For two years they'd lived together as friends--the closest of friends, the most peculiar of pairings. His beliefs and convictions appealed to her, and her silent, volatile determination—so unusual in one so young—impressed him immensely. Erik Lensherr and Raven Darkholme respected each other from the start.

He hadn't touched her at first. He was afraid to, and she could tell. She was too young, too very, very young. Oh, there were hugs that became longer and closer as time went on, and there was the glitter of her yellow eyes when she would put her hand over his and stare up at him shyly through her lashes. She was very beautiful in her unusual way—not just in body, but in her stoic courage, her conviction, the wheels of sly brilliance that turned in her brain. It was far more than a lecherous desire for young flesh that had drawn him towards her. Very often he'd forgotten that she was only a child.

Raven had stopped seeing Erik as a father-figure very early on. He didn’t treat her like a naïve little girl, but an equal. And he was so clever, so handsome, so dynamic—so powerful! After having settled down in the Brotherhood Mansion, she'd found her stomach fluttering when he smiled at her, and she was inwardly baffled at her reaction. He was so much older than her, and she felt rather humbled by the fact. Certainly, she hadn't felt as if there was much of an age gap between them, but on occasion she remembered, and the thought shocked her. Really, he’d saved her life. She adored him, saw him as a hero, and wanted very desperately to make him happy. That hadn't changed. And at the time, she wasn’t sure that seducing him was the way to do that. After all, a man his age…had probably viewed her as a silly child. But there were times that she’d done or said something he liked particularly, and during those times his eyes would glow briefly, as if lit from behind, and his lips would curl into a small smile. It was times like these that she'd felt encouraged. But then, he would turn away, embarrassed.

In her bed, Mystique's mind whirled her back to earlier days.

He loved her as a comrade first. She knew that. The benefits of having such a capable woman on his side were beyond number. Magneto was a wise and perceptive man, however, and he noticed the change in her affections immediately. She wasn't hugging him as one teammate might another, choosing instead to throw herself into his arms and press against his chest. He saw the quick, nervous glances in his direction. It began to occur to both of them that she would not be a child forever, but Erik wasn't entirely sure how that would affect their relationship. She would always be many years his junior, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of becoming involved with someone that much younger than himself.

Raven turned seventeen in 1979. She had lived with Erik for two years and her private adulation of him was quickly giving way to desire . The difference in their ages had faded into the background of their relationship. They'd focused instead on mutations, on bettering themselves so that they might eventually benefit their mutant brethren. On one particular evening, they sat in the study, practicing Raven's powers. Erik was snapping his fingers and suggesting people who she could morph into.

"Bette Davis."

And there she was, but not quite as he’d hoped. "Not Whatever Happened to Baby Jane Bette. Dark Victory Bette. Little Foxes Bette."

She tried again.

"Better. Now…President Carter."

"Mah fellow Americans."

Erik laughed. "That sounded more like Jimmy Stewart."

She shrugged.

"All right now, Raven, a real challenge."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Me. Do me."

She giggled at the first thought to enter her head, then changed as he asked. "No challenge here, Erik," she murmured in a perfect mimicry of his rich, dignified baritone.

He leaned forward, his chin in his hands, then gestured towards her. "Remarkable, my dear, really remarkable. Come here."

His praise had always been the source of some of the more wonderful moments in her young life, and she beamed. And then she had seen the old familiar light in his eyes. This time he did not turn away from her.

Eagerly, she approached him. "Erik…?"

The sound of her voice broke his trance, and he recoiled before quickly regaining his distinction. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yes, Raven?"

Summoning up every ounce of courage in her body, she sauntered towards him. Her gaze was steady and intimidating. Such an expression had always come naturally to her, and it had remained to the present day. But her chest rose and fell fast, and beneath her breast her heart beat hard. She knew that she couldn't fool Erik with her false sangfroid. Seduction was easy, effortless, but her mentor presented a problem. She respected him, wanted to retain his comraderie. And so though she had approached him with intentions of sitting down in his lap, her nerves failed her, and she merely slumped down in an armchair to smile weakly at him.

Several tense moments passed silently. Erik finally felt that he could take it no longer, and he stood to leave. "Good night, my dear."

"Wait."

He attempted to appear authoritarian, but some way or another, he’d failed. The tension of the situation was reflected in the lines of his still-young face. "What?" he snapped gruffly.

"It’s just that…" she paused here. What in the hell had she intended to say? Anything? Did she EVER have a plan? Finally, she'd leaned into him, tangled her fingers is dis dark hair. He could see what was coming, she knew. Oh, what if he rejected her? What if—

She kissed him.

There had been a long pause while the two stared at each other. And then Raven cautiously reclaimed her fingers, loosing them from Erik’s hair, and sitting down hard.

"I’m sorry," she whispered.

He was still staring at her. She thought that perhaps he looked angry. Perhaps he would slap her now, or kick her out into that lonely world just the way her family had. This wasn’t how it was meant to go at all.

But then he was upon her, kissing her with fervor, whispering her name into her ear. "Oh Raven, my Raven…" His mouth traveled down her throat, and his hands…his hands seemed to be everywhere. There they were on her back, her shoulders, the slope of her belly. They encircled her waist, clasped her buttocks. She felt them tousling her hair. "My darling, my darling…"

He had taken her then, and they were driven by the overwhelming desire that had secretly consumed them for the past two years. Erik was aware that he'd hurt her, for when he entered her body she gasped, buried her face in his shoulder. Her little hands turned into claws against his back and her lithe frame trembled in his arms.

"I can stop."

"No, no," she responded, and her voice was barely more than an exhalation.

And so he began to thrust gingerly. Later, when she had adjusted to his size, he went faster. Beneath him, Raven's hips undulated to match his rhythm. She wrapped her long legs around his back. Erik felt better than he had in years, especially when his lover began to moan with pleasure rather than pain.

By the time that they separated and rolled, panting, to their respective backs, Raven was no longer a virgin, and Erik no longer felt guilty for wanting her.

That was two decades ago.

In the darkness of her bedroom, Mystique decided she couldn't sleep after all. She got up and went to see Erik.