Erik had nearly lost all control of his temper on the hottest day of the summer; the dreaded midday heat of an August day and the burning anger had complimented each other nicely. It had been Mystique, of course, who'd calmed his frazzled nerves, the one woman who could single-handedly pull him back down to earth with those piercing, vivid eyes of hers.
Currently, she was nestled against the crook of his arm, resting her back against the far cushions of the sofa they were splayed upon, her blue eyelids closed and fluttered with dreams. She felt so warm against him, smooth, fiery strands of hair slung over his shoulder, and he had to stifle the shivers that coursed through him for fear of waking her in the midst of what appeared to be fitful slumber.
She had saved him from himself not only that day, but every other one, as well, had tugged him from the remnants of his angry episodes and to her side. She had been quite the faithful right-hand woman, in all the years after he'd met her, and she continued to be a reliable and steady presence, always near and always willing to support him.
But there was something odd about the indigo-skinned beauty, something Erik couldn't quite identify, that unsettled him. When he'd first become acquainted to a stunning young lady longing to break out of the shell she was forced into, she'd been almost innocent, playful and adventurous and consumed by a simple yearning for what was just out of her reach.
Now, though, there was something quite different in the depths of her eyes, something untold written within the obvious yet cryptic age of her face, her body, her mind. It was a yearning for something else entirely, and Erik feared that it might overwhelm her. He worried that it would embrace her tightly, controlling, and never release her from its steely grasp.
He felt that she would leave, soon enough, with that overpowering desire to search for more, to be more than she was, to do more than retaliate at the humans for their wrongs. Erik, with all of his power and rage, could not prevent it, and he shrank back at the darkness swirling in her mysterious eyes as she opened them to glance curiously up at him, tilting her head away from his numb arm.
He feared so deeply, then, that something unnaturally hateful was brewing within her, something stemming from those lost innocent years, something dark and hidden and seeking.
He blinked at her, and the soft curve of her lips, slow and sensuous as he'd known it for so long now, erased it all from her golden gaze, and he returned the gesture, hoping, praying to a god he no longer believed in, that it would be enough to make her stay, that it would hold her back when at last the urge to flee, the urge to break away and commit even worse crimes against the world, caught hold of her.
Based off a prompt given by rodlox over on Tumblr.
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