Author's Note: What can I say? Live Schrieber as Sabretooth really did something for me. The scene between him and Bradley in the little trailer just before he killed him always seemed a little too intimate for me, and since I don't write slash (not based on any moral views, simply because I have little to no frame of reference) I changed Bradley to a female. Now not knowing much about the Comic fandom, I apologize upfront if this destroys someone's favorite mutant, but it was something that stuck with me and I had to write it or it would have driven me nuts. So here it is, as always reviews are welcome, flames, er, not so much. Enjoy!

Jasmine Bradley sighed as she knelt beside her footlocker. Africa had been a nightmare. Bad intel, uncooperative locals. Violent slaughter of the uncooperative locals who had given the bad intel. Days wandering around in the heat looking for rocks and people for Creed, Zero, and Wade to intimidate and/or beat up. All culminating in precisely dick. An empty-handed homecoming was always a let-down and made for a sullen and quiet ride home, but this return was compounded by the empty seat on the plane. Even more so, because normally when there was an empty seat coming home it was accompanied by a body bag lying at everyone's feet. A tangible reminder of the stakes they all played for. But this time…no bag.

Logan would land on his feet, she was sure of that. But still, she had been partial to the smaller feral. It was nice having someone else with a conscience around. Besides, his departure had left Creed in a foul mood. Fouler than usual, even, which was saying something. Never one to overly share, he had gone through silent rages and bouts of utter despair, visible only by the cycle of tension and slump of his massive body and the presence and absence of blood-lust in his eyes.

When Jasmine had touched the plane down, he had the door open before she could even completely stop, and he was gone by the time she had set foot on the tarmac. Pay and a night's leave waited for them at the barracks and Jasmine had watched everyone file out for a night of drinking, fighting, and women.

Not for her. A night's leave for the boys meant a night alone for her. A night to indulge in the few feminine instincts she had left after so much time spent surrounded by men. No, for her, a night's leave meant a long, hot shower with her girly shampoo, followed by exfoliating with her girly honey scrub, washing her face with her girly face products, a long careful and complete shave, and if she got crazy and had the time maybe even a self-done pedicure. She sighed with pleasure as she stood. Juggling bottles she made her way to the gang shower that all of her unit shared.

She hadn't thought about the logistics of being the only split-tail when she signed up with Stryker, but then he moved her into the barracks and it hit her all at once. Growing up in the oil-field, she was no stranger to locker-room talk and jokes, tales of pussy conquered and lost, but hanging with the guys, as it turned out, is a hell of a lot easier than living with seven of them 24/7.

When she first joined up with the unit, Stryker had arranged for her to have a private shower in a building across the compound, but most nights it was too far and she would have to sit, weary to the bone waiting for all the dicks to vacate the premises before she could go in and shower. As she walked in now, she made straight for the furthest corner, lined with an opaque rubber ducky shower curtain that Wade, the smartass, had been "nice" enough to put together for her. She had been irrationally pissed the first time she saw it, but the first time, she showered in the relative privacy the curtain provided, she felt the anger rinse from her body in a sluice of hot water

The curtain with it's stupid happy ducks was a sign of acceptance. She was part of the unit, just one of the guys. She had very quietly approached Wade and thanked him, and he had arched an eyebrow at her and told her that it had very little to do with her. "Dukes is in the bunk below me," he had explained very slowly, as though she were a particularly stupid child. "If he ever falls asleep with a clear picture of your ass in his head, I'm gonna find myself skewered in the middle of the night."

She had arched an eyebrow back at him, "Glad I could help, Wade."

It was soon after that, that she found laminated, naked photos of Dukes and Wade stuck the wall of her shower stall, with a note asking for reciprocation. Obviously Wade's thinking, Jasmine was doubtful that Dukes knew any words over three syllables. Smartass.

She leaned into her shower, dropping all of her bottles, and cranked up the hot water, turning the cold knob as an afterthought. The spray was deafening, echoing off of the empty tiled walls as she pulled her shirt over her head.

His boots clunked comfortingly on the concrete. He could move silently when he wanted to, but sometimes it felt better to make noise. Jimmy, the selfish, little shit. Surprised he had lasted as long as he did, squeamish as he had always been. But to try to hold him back? To pretend like he had anywhere near the balls to try and cut Victor's off. Victor had wiped the little brat's nose, kept him warm and safe at night, saved his ass more times than either could count before Jimmy's healing factor had kicked in. Victor should have separated his head from his fucking shoulders for the insult. The idea that Jimmy could ever be top over him. He was growling low in his chest, digging his extended claws into his own palms again and again barely feeling the pain before they healed over again. Letting the blood collect in his hand, the sharp metallic scent clouding the balmy night. His hackles were up, and he needed release.

He had started a few fights tonight, pummeling soft bodies into the ground. Had taken on three guys outside of a bar, put them all down. At least one with internal injuries serious enough that he would likely bleed to death unless one of his unconscious friends got him to a hospital…and soon. It had been fun, but obviously not the release that he needed tonight. Nope, he had a sneaking suspicion that this was the kind of release that needed to be addressed below the belt. He needed a tiny, squirming thing underneath him, begging. His cock apparently agreed as it twitched pleasantly in his pants. He grinned to himself, running his tongue over his fangs.

Tossing her clothes across the room, to keep them from getting wet, she hung her towel over the rod and stepped into the blessedly hot spray. She turned her back to the water and soaked her hair, running her fingers through it. Turning her attention to her powers, she adjusted the bright, fluorescent light to a pale glow and turned on her CD player.

The comforting twang of her hillbilly country echoed in the empty shower and she closed her eyes, taking it all in. She pumped shampoo into her hand and lathered it into her hair. Well sudded she sang along with the CD. She cleaned behind her ears and her neck, then rinsed her hair. She slathered on the conditioner then turned her attention to her rain-scented body wash. She was still humming when the hair on the back of her neck started to stand up. She straightened, unable to see out through the stupid duckys, she used her mind to turn down the music and listened. She could hear breathing in the room and squinting she could make out a massive black shape in the doorway.

"Creed? Is that you?" she demanded.

"How can you listen to this cracker shit?" he asked smoothly, like they were having a normal, mutually dressed conversation.

She scowled at him and turned her music back up, "I happen to like that cracker shit," she replied, "and if you don't like it, don't listen."

"Kind of hard not to," he continued in a neutral tone, soft-spoken.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" she asked, returning to her washing.

"Hm," he said non-committally.

Whatever, she thought to herself. It went quiet outside the curtain for a few minutes and she thought he had left, but then his weight shifted and she heard his boots creak. "If you're gonna just stand out there being creepy you could at least talk a little bit. This silent stalking thing just makes me feel like a rabbit in open field."

You have no idea, he thought to himself. "Talk about what?"

"Do you really have nothing better to do than stand around and watch me shower through a curtain that you can't even see through?" she paused, "You can't see anything can you?" A quiet chuckle. "Great." A low tickle, a spreading warmth that had nothing to do with the water temperature was starting at her thighs and moving outward. She cleared her throat. "With all the time you've had in the military, didn't you ever learn the reg about creeplily staring at a fellow soldier in the shower?"

"Soldiers didn't look like you when I joined."

Point, she thought to herself. "When did you join up again?"

"Civil War."

"Wow," she said without thinking about it. "And you've been in every war since?"

"Skipped Korea."

"Just Korea?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Yup."

One word answers. He wasn't giving her much to work with. Great, she thought to herself, continuing her scrubbing.

He could smell her. Underneath all that perfumey crap she was slathering all over herself, he could still smell her. Funky and warm. Not that he was ever real picky about what he stuck his dick in, but he had seen this one in a fight. Knew that she had claws, itched to see how hard she could fight him, but no fucking a fellow soldier was a cardinal rule in Stryker's command. So he'd kept himself occupied with any number of other sluts. But still…

She could still see his hulking form in the doorway as she started to rinse the conditioner out of her hair. Even though he'd gone quiet, she could still feel his eyes on her, through the curtain. It was more of a turn-on than she would admit out loud. She didn't generally dig men who were cruel for the sake of being cruel, but there was something about Creed. She couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was the way he moved? Huge and graceful. The hands, large and rough? The voice? Now there was something, she thought. The voice. Coarse and smooth at once. The aural equivalent of a square of velvet with sandpaper backing.

As if reading her mind, he growled a sound of what could have been amusement deep in his throat. Ans she heard his boots, a solid echo, approaching, making tiny splashing sounds as he crossed the small puddles. She opened her eyes to see where he was and a small rivulet of conditioner immediately ran into her eye and she faced the spray to rinse it out as she heard his boots retreat again.

Her eyes rinsed she turned back to the door again only to find he was gone. Well what the fuck was that all about? She rolled her eyes and went back to her shower. She exfoliated her face and successfully and meticulously shaved everything from her ankles to her waist.

The hot water running in trails over her newly bared skin was a blissful sensation. Enjoyable enough that she dipped a finger into her fold, nudging her newly exposed clit and a shiver ran through her.

He didn't know exactly what she was doing in there but with the musky spike in the air he had a good idea. Standing just outside the doorway, his back against a wall, the scent of her arousal set him running his tongue over his fangs His still swollen cock throbbed, not entirely unpleasant, in his pants. If she wasn't out in five minutes, he was going in after her.

She didn't dare take advantage of her own arousal with Creed in the other room. She tended to be very vocal during a climax and she didn't need the audience. She instead made sure she was fully rinsed and then twisted off the hot water, letting the cold hit her full force, stealing her breath momentarily.

She heard his bootstep again in the doorway and flicked off the water. Still, his proximity and her nudity was causing a moist heat to remain between her legs that had nothing to do with the shower. She noticed that her emotional state had brightened the lights in the shower and she made an effort to lower them again.

As the semi-darkness descended, she reached for her towel only to find that it was gone. She cracked the curtain to scan the floor, only to see Creed holding it hanging from one claw as he stood smirking in the doorway. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she said, flatly, staring at him.

He continued smirking, flicking his wrist slightly so the towel swayed back and forth on his claw. Never taking her eyes from Creed's hulking form, she gathered the shower curtain to her and reached for the corner where she had tossed her clothes. Her hand swept the floor searching and finding nothing. Finally she tore her eyes from his and saw that her clothes, too, were missing. She dropped her chin to her chest, shaking her head. She stepped back into her shower stall. "Where the hell are my clothes?"

"On your bunk," he replied calmly.

"I suppose it's too muchto ask you to go and get them."

He chuckled darkly and another shiver ran down her spine. She stood there, her arms folded over her chest, wondering how she was going to manage this. "What about my towel?"

"All yours," he purred, his voice moving over her naked body, her nipples tightening. "You just have to come and get it." She huffed out a breath and remained. A few moments passed before he spoke again, "Cold, yet?"

IN fact she was starting to get cold. She couldn't see a way out of this. Besides, there were worse things than him seeing her naked. She sighed heavily, setting her shoulders and raising her chin. She wasn't going to walk out there ashamed and cowering. The man was a predator, after all, and you didn't show weakness to a predator. She wrung out her hair, arranged it over her shoulders, reached up and snapped the curtain back and was rewarded with a split-second of shock on Creed's face. He hadn't thought that she would do it, she realized, and she felt a self-satisfied smirk cross her features even as Creed's own settled into neutrality. Chin up, shoulders squared, back arched, and hips forward, she started towards him.

Creed watched her come. Boy, did he watch her come. Her hair darkened by the shower, it hung well past her shoulders, the ends playing peek-a-boo with her proud, dark nipples as she moved. Lithe, her movements were smooth, driven by her femininely rounded hips. Except for what was on her head, she was hairless and seeing her slit, uncovered and beckoning, did something for him. His already painful erection becoming more insistent, and he had to shift his stance slightly.

She caught the movement, knew its significance, and arched an eyebrow at him as she came within arm's length. She stopped just within his reach and propped her elbow against her own belly, putting out an expectant hand, palm up, demanding her towel with her eyes rather than with words.

He leaned further back, in order to look her up and down properly, close-up. He eyed her breasts and smooth skin appraisingly running his tongue over his fangs, longing to mark her up. Leering at her strong thighs and what lay between them, his claws lengthened in anticipation of rending them to bloody shreds.

She snapped the fingers of her outstretched hand and he thought 'Aw, how cute.'

A flick of his powerful hand sent her towel flying into the main barracks, and she rolled her eyes at him. "Cheat," she said breathily as she squeezed between him and the doorframe. Her erect nipples and strong thighs brushing against him as she passed, leaving wet trails across his clothes. She stared up into his face, defiance in her eyes, and he smirked down at her.

Once clear of the door, she sashayed towards her discarded towel, swaying her near-perfect ass at him and he decided he had let her think she was in control for long enough. Growling, he snaked a powerful hand, grabbing her roughly by the arm, and pulled her back. The last thing that he expected was for her to not only allow him to pull her back to him, but for her to leap at him, violent.

He was taken aback enough that her slight weight threw him momentarily off balance. He was not taken enough aback, however, to not take two handfuls of her ass and help her scale him. All nails and teeth, she seized his shoulders and pulled herself up his body. Her mouth seeking his with a ferocity that he normally associated with bloodlust.

Once high enough, she hooked both legs over his hips, pressing her moist heat against the front of his pants. Her hands abandoned his shoulders and started straining at this jacket and shirt. He heard two buttons hit the tile somewhere off to his left, and felt her groan against his mouth in frustration. She pulled her mouth from his and looked down at his remaining clothing with a wild desperation in her eyes. He chuckled, a deep rumbling in his chest, amused by her enthusiasm.

She went for his throat next, latching onto his skin with her tiny teeth, not drawing blood, just nipping at random. She settled on the hollow where his clavicles met just below his Adam's apple. Suckling, licking, unable to get enough of the taste of him into her mouth. How had this happened? she thought to herself suddenly. It was the growl she thought more than anything else. It had just sent her over the edge. Feeling his engorged cock brush against her naked belly as she had edged past him, the scent of sweat and someone else's blood on him. His heat. Then he had growled and grabbed her and something inside of her had broken loose and all she was aware of was that she needed his hands on her, his breath on her skin and his hardness inside of her.

Slipping her hands inside of his shirt through the slightly widened opening she had managed, she slid her hands over his chest, over his arms, pushing the shirt slightly more off in the process and she set her nails into the thick slabs of muscle in his back. Clawing she drew his blood, and he felt the cuts close up behind her nails nearly as soon as they opened. His own claws extended slightly, stinging her as they broke the skin of her rounded ass cheeks. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth before attacking his mouth once again.

He felt her lip split against his teeth, she closed in with such force. As her strong tongue explored his mouth, he could taste the salty-sweetness of her blood.

His hands left her ass, moving slowly up her body, exerting enough pressure with his claws to leave marks without breaking the skin. One hand remained at the small of her back, keeping her where he wanted her, the other continued up. He wrapped a fist in her hair and pulled sharply, breaking their mouth's contact. She groaned as he pulled her away, her pretty mouth red with her own blood. Her back arched and she used her legs, still wrapped around his hips, to grind against his erection. She wanted it out, she wanted it loose, and she wanted it inside of her…NOW!

"Creed," she whimpered.

His reply was an extension of his claws, surgical sharp against the sensitive skin of her lower back and scalp. She tightened her body, rigid as a bow-string, as she realized for the first time that may very well be a very bad idea. The man could snap her in two without even trying.

Creed caught, with pleasure, the sudden spike of fear in the air surrounding her body. He smirked to himself. Now she was where he wanted her. Slowly he lowered his mouth to her body, laid out in front of him like a party platter.

He began slowly, licking the base of her throat. His tongue like sand-paper, draining her fear away in a rush of lust. He laved every inch of her neck and started next on her chest, still studiously avoiding her breasts, which were now so strained as the be painful. Always conscious of the claws poised over her fragile skin, she squirmed as much as she could, trying to move a breast into his painfully, pleasant mouth. "Is that a request?" he asked, his velvet voice whispering air over her body wet with her sweat and his saliva. She shivered against him, her thighs tightening, squeezing his hips, which he bucked against her in response and she moaned involuntarily. "You didn't answer me," he spoke a hair's breadth from above her breast, his breath, moist against her flushed skin. "Was that a request?"

"Christ, yes," she moaned, breathless, "Yes!"

He attacked on breast in the same fashion. Licking fastidiously up the bottom slope, until finally clasping his mouth onto one nipple. Holding it between his teeth, he was able to flick his tongue over the hardened nub and Jasmine thought the sensation would have been enough to make her come, but when her legs contracted, betraying inevitable climax, he ceased his tonguework and released her nipple.

He removed the hand from behind her back, running his claws around her hip, leaving red marks in their wake. Never releasing his hold on her hair, he kept her back arched

Her legs tightened around him, trying not only to continue rubbing her sex against him, but to support her weight. She was unprepared when the tip of his claw traveled down from her belly button and over her clit, then continued past. She cried out and arched her hips, attempting to keep his claws in contact with the aching bundle of nerves. He smirked watching her suffer, nearly so overloaded now with stimuli that it wouldn't take much to start her growling and whimpering. Without warning he seized her tiny, swollen pleasure nub between two claws and squeezed, nearly piercing it. Her breath caught as she tried to scream, but just as he had grabbed it, he released it and she was left with nothing.

"If," she squeaked out before clearing her throat and starting again. "If I unwrap my legs are you gonna impale me, or let me down?"

"Why would I let you down?"

"Make it worth your while," she whispered, her voice husky.

"How?" he asked, the smile evident in his voice.

"Just have to let me down and see."

He chuckled and it sent a vibration thought his whole body and into hers. She used his arms to lever herself up, bringing her chest hard against his, her face still flushed with desire, her pupils dilated with need and her lip still bleeding. She unhooked her legs and slid down his body like a fireman's pole. Running her tiny hands down his body, she settled on her knees in front of him. He was taking too long to loose himself from his pants and she was tired of waiting. Her small, nimble hands made short work of his belt and zipper and Creed's erection sprang forward. She had a moment of doubt that maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew, so to speak, because there was no way that she could get all of that in her mouth.

Creed knew as much and was surprised when she tried. Her mouth was warm and yielding, her tongue experienced and strong as hell. He bucked his hips in time with her mouth, but her skills and the sight of the blood from her mouth smearing on his cock was threatening to push him over the edge, but he was going to fuck this girl tonight, so he grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet.

His eyes burning into hers, he ran claws down the length of her body, resting once again on her ass, lifting her to a position, poised inches over his manhood. He lowered her until only the tip graced the outermost edge of her pussy. She growled, squirming in his arms trying to force herself down onto his dick, but no matter how hard she struggled, he was too strong. She clawed and bit at him, whimpering and growling, "Goddammit, Creed! I'm not made of glass. Fuck me if you are gonna fuck me!"

That was the last bit of encouragement that he needed. He spun, slamming her into the wall of the shower stall and sliding into her up to the hilt at the same time. She screamed and saw stars, though she was unsure what caused either reaction. Next thing she knew, she was on the floor of the shower, her arms underneath her and Creed on top of her. He held her left knee immobile against his shoulder, his other hand digging claws into her right hip, her right knee over his shoulder. He was thrusting hard into her, she could feel herself stretching and tearing and knew she was bleeding, but she didn't care.

He had opened his shirt fully, but hadn't removed it or his jacket which tented both of them and the feel of the leather on the back of her knee, combined with the friction from his chest hair against her breasts and his pubes against her freshly shaved groin was all encompassing.

He was growling, a rumble deep in his throat and she was making noises like she was in a fight. Grunting and snarling. She hand managed to get one arm loose from where he had pinned them under her. He was lapping at her neck and if she didn't stop him, she was going to come way too fast and she wasn't ready yet. She reached for his hair to pull his head up, but his hair was too short to get a good grip. He growled and snapped at her hand and she pulled it back. She managed to bend her right knee and got her foot planted on his shoulder and screaming like a banshee, she used it to push with all she had, he responded by digging his claws into her hip that much harder, drawing blood.

She could feel the trickle running down her hip, but she didn't care. Her feeble struggle had released something in him and her foot on his shoulder gave him more room to work and she was starting to feel the beginnings of an explosive orgasm build in her belly. Her free hand was raking everything she could reach now. His face, neck, and chest, everything healing as soon as she made the mark, but with every scratch his assault on her body became more intense. She was screaming bloody murder and he was growling so fiercely that his whole body trembled with the force of it.

Her body began to body began to shake underneath him and she struggled to move with him to meet her own climax head on. "Stop squirming," he roared.

"Fuck you," she snarled, rolling her upper body to maximize friction. "Harder," she pleaded, bucking her hips to meet his.

"Stop it," he warned again, removing his claws from her hip. "Hold still. Take it."

Instead of replying she doubled her efforts to shift her position. Quick as a snake-strike, he grabber her hair and pulled her head to one side, exposing her throat. Sensing her vulnerability that spike of fear came from her again and he smirked as he sank his fangs into the muscle where her neck met her shoulder. She froze as he slammed home, again and again.

Despite her fear that if she moved, he would rip out her throat, a low moan began to rise in her throat as her body convulsed. Her vaginal muscles tightening around him pushed him over the edge and he unloaded into her with one last thrust and clamped his teeth harder into her muscle.

She clasped the back of his head with her free hand, pulling him closer as her whole body shook with the power of her orgasm. Her voice rang out loud and clear, sounds of ecstasy which needed no words and as her voice died out, darkness over took her.

She came back to herself sometime later and opened her eyes to complete darkness. The boneless weary and peace that only comes after fantastic sex was still deep in her as she realized that was no longer in the shower, but on her bunk, still naked and uncovered. She listened for breathing in the room, but only heard her own.

She turned her attention towards the lights, willing them to come on, only to realize that in her frenzy, she had blown out every bulb in the place. She chuckled to herself and tried to move only now feeling the extent of her injuries from her encounter with Creed. The claw marks on her hips and the rest of her body, not to mention the bite mark that she could now feel on her breast would at least be easy to hide, but that pair of punctures on her neck was going to be fun to explain. Not to mention the soreness and muscle pulls that she was going to feel for days if not weeks…but all in all, that was ok. It was an itch that would have needed to be scratched eventually anyway. She sighed contentedly.

She reached around for her clothes, but could only find her boots. There was a scrap of paper tucked into one of them and she leaned off the edge of her bed into her footlocker searching for her matches.

Aching and still bleeding slightly from everywhere it seemed, she struck a match and held it close to the note. Reading it, she smiled. Only two lines, but she tucked it into the bottom of her footlocker, regardless.

Don't cut your feet.

-Creed