A/N:
Back to the dratted long notes! :D ::excited::
My obsessive-compulsive disorder demanded I post this today. Apparently, 12/12/02 is an auspicious, "sense-making" date. . That, and I needed to just freaking post it before I forget I have it. Or maybe motivate me to write more. ::coughchoke::
Erm, yes. Surprisingly, no slash. Just... twincest! Muahahaaa! ::coughs:: Anywho, uhh, read it and enjoy -- I demand nothing less! But yeah -- naturally, this ficcy is gonna get mighty inappropriate, just to let you know (if I finish it ever .). Okay, now that I've scared off most of my potential readers... . NOTE: I, um, wrote this a very long time ago, back when this made sense. Now, it does not, but we DO NOT mention this to me because I am fragile and yes. :D Do not judge my writing style on my brainless notes, as I am not in my right mind. .; I'm gonna shut up before I sound any stupider. God this fic is dumb. ::meanders off to RPG::
Disclaimer: I am one sick puppy. . But, that's not what the disclaimer section is really for, so... I do not own X-Men: Evolution, or any of the characters mentioned within this text. Yessss, that sucks, but it's true. If I DID own it, things would be mighty different, let me tell you. Oh yes. .O
The Heart Wants What It Wants
"Wanda!" Agatha Harkness
hissed, her menacing blue and gray taffeta dress swishing audibly as she
entered the room, stalking towards the frightened twins with a sizable
stride. Pietro tightened his arms around
his sister protectively. His blue eyes
snapped fire as hers shot hate.
A string of unintelligible gypsy mumbo-jumbo did the trick, however -- Wanda, who had been holding onto her brother for dear life, suddenly went slack; completely limp in his grasp. Her arms, which had been linked securely around her twin's back, released and fell to the soft bedding beneath them. Her eyes went half-lidded and unfocused. She appeared instantly drugged. Pietro watched in horror as she pushed away from him and walked slowly towards the disapproving old woman, who sneered at Pietro, shooting him one last scathing glance before quickly ushering his sister out of the room. Away from... him. Which she well should. It was so wrong.
* * * * *
Earlier....
Pietro turned the brass
doorknob slowly, praying the ancient mechanism wouldn't emit a betraying squeal
of displeasure at being disturbed.
Thankfully, it was obediently silent, twisting under his efforts with
relatively soundless ease. Once fully
turned, Pietro's slim, white fingers hesitated on the handle, now unsure of
what to do next. He hadn't imagined himself getting this far in the first
place.
Taking a sharp inward breath after several moments of agonizing, he inched the heavy oak door open just a crack, peeking through the dim slit with painstaking precision. His eye fixed on the shadowy outline of the form resting on the bed within the room. His sister, arrived only a few short weeks ago. His beautiful, perfect sister; his twin. His other, better half. Pietro sighed almost inaudibly as he peered in at her dozing peacefully on her bed, a soft smile playing on his curving lips as he watched. He startled himself with a small groan, jerking his head from side to side in search of the sound's source, only to realize that it had come from his own throat. He reminded himself to stay quiet, lest she hear the noise and awaken.
Pietro performed a cursory visual sweep of the premises, making certain that horrid old woman wasn't lurking nearby. Apparently, she didn't think Pietro (or any other Brotherhood boy, for that matter) was a particularly trustworthy person, and thus, she had been guarding Wanda with the utmost priority. The white-haired teen was truly surprised that the old bag wasn't inside, keeping watch as Wanda slept. It seemed her style.
He noted his twin's scant sleeping attire as well -- true, it was only mid-afternoon, but evidently, Wanda was already fast asleep, most likely for the night. For whatever reason, she slept almost double the amount of time a normal person did; quite literally his opposite half in that respect. Perhaps, Pietro reasoned, this was because Agatha worked her so hard, teaching her magic and whatever other nonsense she felt appropriate. Plus, she was in a new environment, which must be at least a little unnerving for the girl. How badly Pietro wanted to hold her; to comfort her. To touch her...
The ashen-tressed head shook violently; trying to clear out mental images that, left unchecked, would eat away at his soul. As they had been for the past few weeks. Pietro returned his icy blue eyes to the opening to observe her.
The heavy burgundy drapes were tightly drawn, shutting out the late afternoon sunlight that would have afforded Pietro a better view of the dark silhouette that lay on the bed, but not beneath the covers. A pillow was clutched to her bosom self-protectively. Her knees were drawn up to her chest. She wore only a silky camisole, he noticed, and a brief pair of panties. In scarlet satin, naturally. There wasn't a thing she was denied. The silken-soft red fabric, with a backdrop of creamy, white skin, made his sister seem a tempting candy cane; a delicious peppermint stick. How difficult is was to hold back the urge to taste her. He was already this enraptured to simply see her from behind... dare he venture to the opposite side of the bed to see more?
His last remaining shreds of sanity straining to the point of snapping, Pietro made his way, painfully slowly, to the other side of his sister's bed. Now facing her front at long last, he tentatively crept to her side and kneeled beside the bed, gazing in adoration and awe at the seemingly innocent girl who lay there... so unlike the wild, destructive and angry creature she became during the day. True, she was getting better, but... Pietro could feel the undercurrent of hate, flowing from her to him. Not just him, but mostly him, no doubt. And it hurt not that she despised the sight of him, but that he deserved it. He loved her; he should have tried harder to convince their father that Wanda wasn't a threat to anyone, but... he hadn't. He'd wanted to; oh, with all his heart he did. But Magnus was not one to be swayed, especially by a mere child. Even if that child was his own son, pleading for the life of his own twin sister.
Without his consent, one long-fingered hand reached out to delicately touch her arm, which was still holding the pillow fast to her body; the dainty fist holding a swatch of pillowcase fabric in a loose grip. He traced a line from shoulder to elbow, and down to her slender wrist. Her skin was as smooth and perfect as it had ever been. He smiled to feel Wanda's fingers curl instinctively around his one when he reached her hand. He even dared to brush a stray lock of dark hair off her forehead. The curling strands were feather-soft. She smelled of roses. Pietro closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the sweet scent of his sister. He tenderly ran his fingers through her hair again, allowing the natural curl to twist the locks into short, angelic rings.
Hallelujah, praise and glory be to benevolent essence had the prudence and kind intent to make Wanda sleep like the dead.
Pietro slowly rose to his full height, looming over his twin for a moment before backing away and leaving the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible and retreating to his own quarters before he lost his grip on reality and ravaged her on the spot.
* * * * *
A/N: Wow! Wasn't that horribly strange? Haha! I feel sick. -_-
And, um, Iunno if I wanna continue this or not, beeecause it is horribly
out of date, err, or something, yes, and I ramble, yes again, and... yes. O_o;
Uhh... reviews... yes...?