To Have It All
by Yimmy (yimmy_kins@yahoo.com)
Riveted, the girls watched the stripper dance. Chiseled and criminally good looking, the gyrating man took their breaths away much like a fellow teammate and Cajun t’ief did. Money of all denominations shot out of their hands, each uncharacteristically yelling and squealing for the scruffy, brown hair dancer to come closer and make their days. Honestly, Ororo got so into him, she kind of scared me. Rogue took the show in stride, playfully batting away attempts to steal “Ma man!” Kitty and Xi’an humored her while Rahne, Danielle, and Rachel staggered back to the tables, mimosas, margaritas, and daiquiris in their arms and ready to share with the rest of us.
The joys of a bachelorette party. Between the pounding electronic music, the Gambit look-alike stripper, and my fourth (or was it fifth?) drink, I almost forgot that tonight was my last night of freedom and that this was all for me.
“Having fun, Lorna?”
I turned and there was Jean, cute little mai tai at the ready. “How come you got an umbrella in yours?”
Grinning, she pinched the decorative prop with her fingers and slid it into my glass. “Welcome to Summers clan,” she winked, “It’s an interesting ride.”
The lights turned off for a split second, and in that time, silence. The beat started up again, quickly followed by strobing light that revealed the stripper had finally indeed torn off his leather hugging pants. As the girls screamed at the reveal, my eyes followed a retreating Jean as she swayed back and forth to the bar.
Welcome to the Summers clan.
My lungs refused to inflate. My vision tunneled, darkness surrounding me. The ice in my drink softly clanked against the glass.
Welcome to the Summers clan.
The laser laden club scene melted into clear daylight. The mansion replaced the walls, “Xavier Institute” shining in the sun instead of “Rolling Rock” blinking in neon green. Children ran all about the front lawn, each displaying their mutant abilities as they played tag. Alex stood by me, his hair streaked by gray and his face somehow no longer handsome. He bent down and touched my bulging stomach.
“Another one on the way. That makes it a baker’s dozen.”
Little Lornas and tiny Alexes swarmed my swollen legs.
“Can I have a popsicle?”
“Mommy, I made a boo-boo.”
“Ouch! He hit me!”
“No, she started it!”
“Where’s my cup?”
“Leggo! Leggo!”
“Tag! You’re it, Mommy.”
“Waaaaa!”
Welcome to the Summers clan.
My body regained control of itself and I did the only reasonable thing: I screamed for all I was worth. The music was so loud and the place so packed that no one noticed. My mind and the crowd suffocated me. My future slipped out of my control and I didn’t know how it happened. Tomorrow at precisely three in the afternoon, I’d be known as Lorna Dane Summers, wife of Alex Summers. I wasn’t just marrying Alex; I was marrying the uniform he wore. For all his boyish charms, he committed himself as fully as Scott to Xavier’s dream. He breathed The Cause, and everything we’d do would always come back to the X-Men. Kids, white picket fences, a two story house, a nice luxury car, and all of it on Charles’ sprawling, Westchester property.
Mutant children. Battling planetary threats after teacher-parent meetings. Protecting babies from Sinister and Apocalypse. I looked at Rachel. I thought of Nathan. I knew what this life entailed and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Long ago I realized I didn’t love Alex. However, like vanilla ice-cream, he was safe: impressive genes, decent support structure, and undemanding. I wanted him for his comfort, but he changed since his return. He became self-absorbed and I was too blind to see it. Somehow, he didn’t have room for me anymore, just Charles’ dream and his brother’s problems. I’d be his child bearing burden, his private factory for new students. It would’ve been a fine arrangement if the X-Men weren’t involved, if every aspect of me and my children didn’t have to bleed into The Cause.
I couldn’t give any more of myself. I couldn’t sign my life away to this existence.
I screamed again. Before the stripper gave us the full monty, I twisted out of my chair and bolted. Lorna Dane Summers... the name sounded vile. Ororo and Kitty noticed me running and tried to ask me what was wrong, but I couldn’t explain it to them. Soon, distance muted their protests and I burst out the door, loud bass beats replaced by my steps on the cement.
Darting into the trees, I made sure I was far in enough before I let my powers kick in and carry me high into air, high enough so I could barely breathe. Thin air, a bleak future, and alcohol mixed in me and tapped into the “flight” portion of my fight or flight instincts. Flying faster than I ever flew before, I tried to put as much distance between me and this forsaken place as possible.
Didn’t care where I went. Didn’t care where away was. Land disappeared long ago and only the clear stars kept me company, them and the fat clouds ambling away below. I wanted to die, die of fear, embarrassment, grief, and happiness. Up here where even birds feared to fly, Alex’s shadow no longer hounded me. Up here, away from the world that expected me to be Lorna Dane Summers and Polaris, I lived for myself.
And it was good.
My pace slowed. I listened to the winds and lullaby waves, eyes drooping with exhaustion. A fleeting sense of otherness controlled my body for a second, pushing me outside. I saw myself, confused and spent, hovering over the vast world with nothing but the smoke stenched clothes on my back. I saw me slump my shoulders and hunch my back, defeated without even beginning to fight.
Otherness left, and in the end, I only had nothingness.
And it was good.
The loud crack of lightning extended from somewhere above me, hurled into the clouds below, and shook my core. My shivering bones told me the discharge was unnatural. Could that have been Storm chasing after me? No, lightning didn’t act like that, not even Storm’s lightning. I wanted to ignore it but the curious part of me glued myself to the electrical surge.
The scene smacked of danger. I liked danger, and after tonight, I needed something to occupy my mind outside of me, Alex, and our dysfunctional relationship. Danger filled the role nicely, especially for a career X-Woman like me.
X-Woman. X-Men. Till now a source of great pride, I found the very mention of “the team” brought bitterness to my mouth. Why I couldn’t say because I still thought fondly of most everyone calling the mansion home. It was just a guttural, primordial feeling.
Tonight, I seemed to be listening to my intuition an awful lot.
With danger in mind, I levitated down, down till the clouds blurred my vision, down till I couldn’t see the stars anymore, down till the ground came back, down till I saw the rolling hills covered by evergreen trees. Thrashing and curses floated up to me, drawing my eyes to a patch of well-disturbed darkness.
I sensed metal there, shaped and reinforced metal to be exact. Six swords lay not far away, scattered like kindling. Six swords... who would need six swords? I felt for the swords again, this time assuring myself they were of the katana variety--well forged, folded repeatedly, and tempered by almost supernatural grace.
My feet touched down on the soil. Behind me: six swords. In front of me: the form of a sculpted woman, one arm holding her bloodied side, two hands brushing the sweat off her forehead, and three hands just holding her up.
Six hands. Six swords. Even in the moonless night, she cast her metallic blue eyes at me and rose to her full, imposing height. “X-Men,” she sneered.
Six hands. Six swords. Sick attitude. Never met her in person before, but I knew her by reputation. Spiral--Mojo’s personal emissary, a woman who had her hands, feet, and whatever other appendage in everyone’s business in the name of “good, dirty entertainment.” She was danger personified, her hypnotic dances and swordplay allowing her to do everything from jump dimensions to dismantle Sentinels.
Of course, she never beat the X-Men. She hurt us, but beat? Never, and I bet that just ground on her nerves, enough for her to put aside her huge, gaping wound and focus on me like prey. The thought hit me that I’d just stumbled onto an injured lioness looking for an outlet to release her anger.
And I didn’t quite care anymore.
As quickly as the thought hit was as quickly as Spiral moved into her dance. Yes, dance, I didn’t know what else to call whatever she did. Her gracefully toned body snaked to an unheard beat, torso swinging one way, arms waving like a desert mirage’s heat waves. I tried to hold her still by controlling the scads of metal on her armor, but as soon as I accessed my magnetic powers, a blast of pain shrunk my world and stopped me cold.
Before my knees even hit the dirt ground, Spiral charged me, two amazingly delicate hands wrapping around my neck like a velvet vice--but still a vice nonetheless--while the rest of her plowed me into a tree trunk. Falling pine needles tangled into my hair, her grip tightening. Between my gasps for breath and desperate flailing against her hold, I saw her eyes shift back and forth looking for more opponents, searching for more X-Men.
My body felt like jelly. I couldn’t move right nor could I focus enough to get my powers going. The already dimmed night sank further into darkness as the muscles in my neck started to give way. I coughed, a cocktail of blood and spit bubbling up my throat to choke me.
My jelly body solidified into bricks. Air rushed out of my lungs. My arms slipped loosely to my sides. The end hugged me close and I didn’t care.
At least this death would be swift and merciful. Going back... going back there, back to the mansion, back to Alex, back to my prison of expectations... almost made me look forward to this. So I didn’t arrive with suicidal intentions, but this near to my final moment, I tried to look on the bright side of life.
Then my world flipped upside down and jarred my eyes back open. The soothing choke released and I automatically soaked in all the air I could. Reflexes took over and filled this nowhere with coughing, gagging, and shuffling.
Spiral straddled my hips and pinned my wrists down. “You’re alone.”
If I could, I would’ve given her a scathing, “Are you really this slow?” glare.
Since I couldn’t, she continued unabated onto another obvious observation. “You hardly fought back.”
That’s because I didn’t want to.
“You’re not fighting now.” She leaned down to me, nose to nose, traces of her pain and wildness gone. “Why?”
Still hoarse from earlier, my throat managed a few weak, unintelligible wheezes. Instead of laughing at my pitiful attempt to speak, she cocked her head and eased up a little, unafraid. In the span of seconds, I evolved from enemy to enigma. Enemies were meant to be crushed; enigmas were meant to be examined.
Examine she did. Her eyes moved methodically, grazing over every fiber of me before returning to the starting point and digging for another layer. As if watching alone could unravel the mysteries of the universe, she forged on, determined and unfettered. While she watched me, I watched her, part curious, part terrified, totally intrigued.
The lioness didn’t want me dead yet. Any moment she could change her mind, and the prospect of not knowing, of living each moment on borrowed time, sped my heart and stemmed the hurt around my neck. Each nerve tingled with energy, more alive on the verge of death than in the midst of life. Out here, Alex was a distant shadow, my friends a long gone memory, and all I had was me, tattered and ephemeral.
“You call yourself Polaris. For one named after the North Star, a guiding light in human history, you appear lost.”
Her tone didn’t allow for rebuttals. Her fingers moved and felt my pulse.
“Lost and excited.” Another hand fluttered down my side like a ghost, my flesh rippling along with it in shock and... and... anticipation. “Tell me, mutant, the reason for our meeting tonight.”
Her scent finally registered in my muddled mind. Coppery, musky, and domineering--the heady aroma pressed down on me harder than her body. She smelled like dangerous freedom, like an opportunity, like the poison I needed to kill the disappointed voices screaming at me from Westchester.
I took her lips like a pill. They were silvery and soft, same as her hair but different. I want to say my move surprised her, but the way she wedged herself into me, the way her hold on my wrists loosened, the way her hands unbuttoned my shirt and jeans, they all told me she wasn’t the least bit surprised. The freezing upstate New York air should’ve brought out a rash of goose bumps but desire and Spiral kept me warm.
She tasted sweet. That was my first thought as she opened her mouth to my tongue. She tasted like forbidden fruit, my uncaring unfaithfulness to Alex accentuating her full-bodied subtleties. She was incinerating passion; she was icy deadliness. She was a mistake; she was my best decision.
Hands brushed aside my shirt and fondled my breasts. I gasped against her touch, moaning into her mouth while she roughly kneaded and crudely pinched. My now naked sex bucked against her hips, the almost punishing hold on my chest wetting me. I jutted my upper body out, silently encouraging her to use me harder, to make me feel in ways Alex never did.
Alex--the perfect gentleman. He was adequate but unimaginative. He was safety. Spiral was none of those things, and till tonight, I never knew how much I craved the dark desires within me. Maybe that’s why my father’s dogma intrigued me so much. Maybe that’s why my powers from my secondary mutation fed on the darkest emotions. Maybe that’s why perfection didn’t suit me.
Two fingers spread my lower lips wide. The hair on the back of my neck cropped up but they weren’t there from the cold. I opened my legs further. Without warning or foreplay, a collection of digits thrust me into me, filling me, hurting me.
I tore away from our kiss and screamed into the night. Sweat broke out all over my body as she plunged deeper, kneaded harder, then flicked my aching clit again and again till I couldn’t hold back myself anymore.
For a brief moment before my orgasm hit, I became silent. The forest creatures stopped their incessant noises. I heard my ragged breaths. I heard her wet flesh rubbing against mine. I heard her penetrating me, never slowing. I heard the blood thunder in my ears.
And then I felt years of repressed sexual tension rush out from me like a burst dam, her pistoning fingers now coated by a new, thick slickness. I felt me in that second, me in all my glory unchained by expectations, morals, ethics, or ideals. I felt her pinch my fully erect nipples and her teeth sink into my bruised neck. I felt free, like death now wouldn’t matter, like she could slit my throat and I’d die with a smile.
I held her head close so she’d make me bleed. I’d never be Alex’s again and this was my proof. He couldn’t give me this, the good kind of pain. When he hurt me, he ruined me. When Spiral hurt me, she made me free. Big difference, and never again was I going back.
He could have my body but he could never have me.
“This is certainly quite a development.”
Spiral spun around, breaking our contact all at once. I lazily raised my head. In what little light splashed across this wilderness, I saw the silhouette of a man I could never forget.
“Sinister,” growled Spiral.
Suddenly, the wound on her side made that much more sense. Suddenly, the blood which seeped through her armor and stained my shirt took on a new meaning. Suddenly, I hated Sinister that much more.
Around us, the rest of the Marauders made themselves known. There was Blockbuster and his bulky frame, unable to stay hidden. Vertigo shifted around behind him, her long hair giving her away. The one to the right of us could’ve been Scalphunter or Riptide, I couldn’t tell. Arclight and Harpoon flanked Sinister, both minions’ ready to pounce.
Where was Scrambler? Where was Prism?
Wait. Scrambler could make us unconscious with nothing but a touch. Prism could blind us with his light manipulating powers. Flash of light, touch, then we’d be at his mercy. Sinister’s appearance wasn’t so much a taunt as it was a setup to a trap.
“Spiral and Lorna Dane,” the white faced monster chuckled, “Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined this scene. Maybe I’m getting dull in my old age...”
I bolted up from the ground and pulled Spiral face down into the ground. I closed my eyes and made an electromagnetic shield around us just as a brilliant flash engulfed the area. I felt someone hit and bounce off my shield, but the satisfying feeling didn’t last long.
Angered by my actions, Sinister bellowed “Don’t let either of them get away!” and let the rest of his Marauders loose.
Amidst the stomping and yelling, Vertigo pointed at me and... and...
My world winked out of existence.
*****************
My ears woke up before my eyes. The mechanical joints moving and various things sparking pulled me out of my comfortable sleep. Blurry eyes focusing now, and I noticed my surroundings bathed by a hospital room’s sterile fluorescent light.
Hospital?
I blinked and tried to move but my head felt like a gigantic watermelon. Instead of getting up, I crashed onto my back and got a bad case of motion sickness for my troubles. The step, step, step of boots on floor echoed in the room.
I remembered Spiral. Then Sinister. Then Vertigo. She must’ve knocked me out with her powers and-
Spiral walked into my narrow field of vision, her side healed and her armor immaculate. “Be still. You’re not fully recovered yet.”
The question came out of my lips before I could stop it. “Where am I?”
“The Body Shoppe,” she replied, as if those two words answered all of life’s mysteries.
“Body... Shoppe?”
“It is my sanctuary, my place of business, and the source of my troubles with Sinister.”
Sinister!
She must’ve noticed my panicked expression. “We escaped. I wove a dimensional dance to bring us here, and try as he may, he cannot follow.”
While the news of eluding him brought me some relief, I couldn’t relax. Maybe it was Vertigo’s attack still draining me. Maybe it was the sight of HER. I didn’t know.
“I will return you to the X-Men once you are in better condition.”
“What?”
Instead of saying anything, she settled on looking at me like I’d grown another head. Actually, if I could look at myself, I’d be doing the same thing. The one word came out with juvenile disappointment, like my reaction after my mom picked me up from a play date with a second grade classmate. In the moment of clarity, I realized I didn’t want to face my friends or Alex ever again, that the feelings earlier weren’t sparks of escapism.
I realized I couldn’t go back. I realized I wanted to stay and explore what transpired between Spiral and myself.
I held her puzzled gaze in my own. Apprehensively, I asked, “Do you want me to leave?”
Bewilderment became understanding. Like a doctor, she noted, “You are attracted to me.”
Well, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”
And she laughed. The small chuckle exploded into unbound laughter, complete with her thumping the sterile lab tables and wrapping a pair of arms around her gut. Despite my nausea, I rallied enough of my wherewithal to feel offended; after all, I wasn’t the only one swept up by the encounter.
I wasn’t the only one kissing.
I struggled to sit. I couldn’t let her continue to see how weak I was. I swallowed the sickening bile in the back of my throat and moved quickly before my resolve broke down. With a careless swing, I was up. Meanwhile, she wiped a tear dribbling down her cheek and steadied herself, my determined movement somewhat quieting her.
“The comedy of it all,” she sighed, giggles still bubbling away, “An X-Man is attracted to me. Me! A six armed monstrosity! I’m impressed at your acting skills, Polaris. If I was still working for that lard ball, Mojo, I would have recommended he base a show around you.” Quietly, she added, “You were using me as much as I was using you.”
She didn’t believe me. I blinked and processed her statement again.
Yup, she didn’t believe me. “I’m not acting!”
That gave her more reason to laugh.
Acting like a seven year old wouldn’t get me anywhere. I took a deep breath and approached her from another angle. “Why couldn’t I be attracted to you?”
That shut her up in a hurry. The first time I said it didn’t seem real, but after the thinking and laughing, this reiteration carried a new weight. I asked the question with conviction and genuine curiosity. I rolled her self-image of “a six armed monstrosity” over my tongue and pitied her for even thinking about herself that way. When she realized I wasn’t joking, she had difficulty dealing.
“You’re walking a dangerous line,” she warned. “I may be indebted to you for foiling part of Sinister’s ambush, but you’ll find my patience is not something to be tested. I don’t tolerate manipulation well at all.”
“Good, because I am not manipulating you. I kissed you because I wanted to, not because I’m playing a game.”
“I’m suppose to believe that you were so captivated with my beauty that you froze and allowed me to almost kill you?”
On impulse, my hand reached around my neck to feel the bumps of the painful bruises. Nothing.
“They’re gone,” said Spiral, “I healed you.”
“Thank you.”
“You can thank me by leaving.”
Behind the distrust, bitterness, and distance, glimmers of hurt shined. She didn’t understand me, and what she didn’t understand she didn’t embrace. From the stories I heard, she’d been used by Mojo almost all her life: wasn’t a big jump in logic to see she thought everyone ventured to use her. For all her incredible powers and thickened skin, she had a fragile self-image punctuated by her six arms.
No one else had six arms. No one else was different like her. In her mind, she probably assumed the world thought her ugly. In this twisted reality, she probably assumed right too.
But beauty wasn’t what drew me to her. Sure, she had a primal quality, her well-sculpted limbs and her washboard stomach brimming with hard flesh. Sure, she had shocking hair, abnormal like mine. None of those things equated to beauty in my mind.
Like I said before, Spiral was danger. Spiral was impulsive. Spiral was an adventure. In my life, one dominated by wars and causes, being near an unfettered soul set me free. She was my escape from the monotony my life had become. She was a world without promises, without missions, without expectations. She was something Lorna Dane would never do.
And she excited me.
My equilibrium returned, I slowly got to my feet and never turned away from her unwavering, hostile glare. “Do you want me to leave?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all this time. Now that you can walk, you can leave.”
I took baby steps toward her. Each inch closer made her flinch ever so slightly. “I’ll leave if you’ll let me do one thing.”
One of her hands shot out and stopped me at arm’s length. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to do.”
“I don’t want to know what you’re going to do.”
Inhibitions already gone--by God, the woman had already fucked me silly in a forest!--I leaned into her and...
... met another one of her hands.
“Stop,” she ordered.
“One kiss,” I whispered, “Just one. If you aren’t convinced, I’ll leave.”
“Convinced of what?”
“That I don’t want to leave. That if you bring me back there, I’ll be committing the biggest mistake of my life. That whatever we shared before Sinister interrupted us was better than anything else I have. That tomorrow has no promises and shouldn’t be shackled by today.”
Time ticked by, the sounds of her Body Shoppe breaking the silence. I made my move and she needed to make a decision: to kiss or not to kiss. Contrary to my appearance, I was far from being sure what was going to happen. I presented her with a brave front because I didn’t want this to end, not because I was convinced about us becoming Us.
Slowly, she let go of me. Her move now--I already did my part. I set these events into motion and she needed to respond.
I might’ve wanted her but I wasn’t desperate. Not yet, anyway.
Holding a breath, she closed her eyes and stepped forward. Head dipped down, she allowed me to taste her lips without getting onto my tip toes, and when we touched, the embers within me erupted like a volcano. Our last kiss was fast and sexually charged. Our last kiss was a battle. This kiss was slow and passionate, like a transfer of affections instead of a hunt for feelings. My hands found themselves against her soft cheeks. Every move of her body, every ripple of muscle added a new flavor to the moment.
Her strong but hesitant arms eventually acquiesced and wrapped around me, surrounding me, hiding me, and bringing me nearer. Those closed eyes opened into tiny slits, the iris colored by euphoria. Her armor clad chest heaved against mine as air ran low and the need for contact remained as high as ever.
I pulled away.
“Stay or go?”
Hugging me tight and fondling the sides of my breasts, she hissed, “Stay.”
I smiled and magnetized the metal bracers on her wrists. Her salacious leer dissipated into shock as I threw her onto the bed behind us and held her still. Metal bracers, metal breastplate--I only held her arms and torso in place but her head and legs moved freely.
Not taking kindly to my sudden restraining, she craned her neck up and demanded, “What are you doing?!”
“Staying.”
I undid my shirt one agonizing button at a time. In place of anger came arousal, and with the arousal came anticipation. I stopped after the third button and shrugged off the still form hugging shirt like a snake shedding its skin. No bra tonight--as Spiral found out earlier--so I arched my back and raised my arms to the sky to amply show her what she’d been enjoying thus far.
My hips swung side to side, the shirt falling down a little bit after every move. Once the fabric made it down to my knees, I called on my powers again, this time to unbutton my jeans. With an accented pop and an exaggerated zip, my pants seemed to be following my shirt’s lead.
Except the metal button caught the waistline of my underwear. Bringing my arms back down (and running them over my breasts while I was at it), I led her eyes to my navel where I waited. The little metal button pulled, but my panties stayed put. It pulled again, this time harder but still not getting anywhere. On the third pull, the small bit of cotton slowly slid off of me to reveal my curious green hairs, and then, my already aching sex.
I opened my legs just enough to show her how excited I was.
Throughout the entire striptease, she never strayed from watching me. She fought against my powers, fighting for a better view but I didn’t let her. She already had her turn, and now, it was mine.
I could be spontaneous. I could be dangerous. I could be sensual. I could be adventurous. I could be all those things Alex didn’t want me to be.
The last of my clothes hit the ground. My first response was to pounce on her like she did me, but I held myself back. I circled her, watching her watch me. I took in her chiseled form and untamable eyes. I imagined the feel of her hardened body as the Body Shoppe’s cold, sterile air lashed against me.
“Are you just going to walk around like that or is there a point to this?”
Not replying, I focused on her shining armor. So well-made and tempered that material, thin enough to protect her against all sorts of attacks but flexible enough to allow nearly unrestrained movement. I marveled at its structure and durability. I walked up to the bed and ran my hand over the warm, glistening protective wear. I quickly stepped back.
Wonder if she’d miss it.
I started warping the metal to my will. The part covering her breasts softened and pinched inward. Careful not to create any jagged edges, I used my powers to touch her without touching her, the metal becoming extensions of my fingers, the hard, sturdy metal as warm and tender as me.
She gasped in sheer delight. I could imagine the multitudes of presses and caresses unexpectedly running over her chest, stomach, and back. I could imagine the sensations, like being touched by a dozen lovers. I saw how excited she was now, her head thrown back and her eyes sealed shut while her feet pounded against the table. Sounds of her begging cries filled her “sanctuary.”
I thinned the metal out, wrapping her entire upper body like a present. The touches intensified and more new areas became covered. I listened for the places which hastened her pants and made her scream. I waited for her to get to the edge, then, I stopped.
Her breathing subsided.
I was far from done.
As I approached her, the armor covering her firm breasts receded. There they were, nipples hardened and waiting for my attention. I didn’t disappoint, kissing both before taking one in my mouth. The way her powerful fingers flexed, I could see she wanted to pull me down and force me to ravage her, but this was my turn, my show.
With one final suck, I left her breast wet and wanting.
Up and over I went, sitting my naked self on her now exposed midriff. The dampness dripping from me made her shudder and moan, or maybe it was the metal armor snaking all off her body, onto the table, and leaving her naked.
I reached behind and found her tight pants still on. “Mmm,” I purred, “These have to go.”
A sliver of liquid-like metal ran down her stomach, brushed my sex, and reached her waist. I fashioned a small blade out of the tiny piece and commanded it to make Spiral a lot more accessible. It did its job and hurried back to join the amorphous wad of metal coagulating off to the side.
I reached back again and found the smooth skin heavenly. I went by feel, my fingers gliding past silky skin and touching the tip of her slit. Only a little ways away, another tip made itself known, and when I accidentally grazed it, it sent her into a brief spasm.
“How long has it been?” I asked, bending down so her sweating body and my freezing self touched in every possible way.
“Too long,” she said, eyes shut, mouth agape, and breaths coming in spurts. “And never like this...”
“You say the sweetest things.”
A kiss on her chin signaled my departure. As I hopped off her, she wanted to ask me what I was doing but previous experience taught her to stay quiet and wait. Her pants, while cut, were still on; that needed a fast remedy. I grabbed the pant legs and yanked, the already cut material peeling off with frightening ease.
I took a moment to admire her muscular but surprisingly supple legs. Not an imperfection on either limb and the grace with which they wriggled to my touch...
“Amazing,” I whispered.
But nothing compared to her glistening sex.
Tucked tightly away, I wondered how many others had seen Spiral like this, so wet and vulnerable. Her slit quivered as if unable to contain itself. It certainly wasn’t able to contain the droplets of her slowly pooling on the metallic bed.
“Touch me,” she moaned in agony, “Please. I need you...”
Spreading her legs, she bade me to continue, to end her sweet torture. I crawled onto the bed and gently ran a finger along her core. Thump went her feet as she thundered against the metal. I brought said finger up to my nose and inhaled.
She smelled... soft. Musky and hot at the same time, but soft, like a delicate dessert just out of the oven. I went to the source and took another breath of her.
She smelled... intoxicating.
I took her nub in my mouth and sucked. The moisture flowed from her like a river. She screamed even louder, and in the screams she interspersed needy whimpers.
She tasted so divine. She tasted like freedom, and as I parted her lips with my fingers and extended my tongue into her, I knew I was free from Alex. I knew this was where I wanted to be, away from my life and riding the crest of this hedonistic, irrational tide of ecstasy.
Here, never to return. Here and now weren’t forever, but at least I wouldn’t be there.
With a powerful quiver, Spiral came. I turned away not because I didn’t enjoy the taste of her but because I had other plans. As she lay there spent, I split the blob of metal next to us in half and started to fashion it into a long, thick rod. Still forming, I floated it over to my hand and crawled back up so I stared into her rapt face.
I kissed her mouth--my own still slick from her cum--and asked in a low voice, “Do you know what this is?”
Upon opening her eyes, I lifted the rod between my fingers and grinned at her. As a woman (and a woman who had not been sexually active for a while), Spiral was certainly familiar with this. The crude called it a dildo, in this case, an average sized, six inched one. The falsely sophisticated called it a penetrating device and occasionally, those who wanted it so got bumps on the side to “increase friction,” but this one was unblemished metal. The rest of us called it gratification, especially when our male partners failed to perform.
However, this one would be used to enhance gratification, not achieve it.
Knowing how wet she was, I wasted no time in sliding all six inches of it into her. Turned on by the length of metal, her wilted body sprung to life again. I relished in the layer of her hot sweat against me, our closeness and gyrating motions moistening me in more ways than one.
Her long hair tangled in my arms, I muted her cries with my mouth while my powers manipulated the erstwhile piece of armor nestled in her sex. The end extended outward into the size of my index finger and sought out her clitoris; the rest of the rod pumped in and out of her. Clit found, I molded the metal around it and let it rub against the nerve bundle while the metal went in and out. As the motion continued, I stretched and widened and warped and contorted and vibrated the rod, driving Spiral insane with sensations. Her hands ached to move and fought valiantly against my magnetic hold.
And when she came a second time, I took pity on her and set her free. In the blink of eye, her six hands pounced on both of us to relieve her strain. Her nails dug into my back and broke skin, the running blood mixing with my sheen of sweat. The pain, the excitement, the forbiddenness, and the feeling of her coming carried me to the brink. All it would take was a single finger to send me to oblivion.
Spiral used her entire fist.
*****************
The next day...
Alex Summers shambled into his room at the Xavier Institute. All night searching and no sign of Lorna, not even a blip on Cerebra. On some level, no, make that most levels, he inwardly jumped for joy at not having to marry Lorna. The feelings he had for her were dead and buried in another dimension. He put up with this charade because it seemed to uplift the team, many of whom wanted to live vicariously through their old relationship.
Now Lorna had to up and run and ruin what joy this house was suppose to have. What kind of woman was she? What kind of team member was she? This was exactly why Alex didn’t love her anymore. This was exactly what Alex needed to shift the blame for this catastrophe from himself to her.
As he lay on the bed, a tiny gold glimmer on the pillow caught his attention. He examined the ring--the same ring he gave to Lorna for their engagement--before picking it up. When he did, he noticed a string attached to it, and on the other end, a note.
Flowery script greeted him: “Give this to someone who wants it.”
Alex pocketed the ring and smiled. He picked up the telephone and dialed a very familiar number. One ring, two rings, three rin-
“Nurse Ghazikhanian speaking.”
“Hey Annie,” said Alex, “I have some good news...”
*****************
-The End.
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