I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.
I do not own Beast, Hank, or Nicholas Hoult.
In Between
Chapter 12: Homecoming and Departure
He walked through the front door of the mansion and immediately sensed something.
Growl.
No. It can't be.
It was. A few steps further in and he saw her. The sight of her stopped him dead in his tracks. His hungry eyes immediately feasted on the exquisite sight of her.
Standing on the main staircase. Holding a small, grey, pull-string bag loosely in her left hand. The other hand behind her, out of sight. Glowingly outlined by the soft afternoon rays of sunlight drifting in through the plate glass windows behind her. Her, in her natural, unadorned form. Slick red hair. Styled shorter now than last he'd seen her. Blue scales curving around her body and face, accentuating her figure perfectly in all the right places. She had grown and matured since last he saw her.
She was beautiful. Even more beautiful than before if that was possible.
"Raven."
Relief and joy flooded through him in a tidal wave as he looked upon her. He didn't even care enough to be confused as to why she was here.
He only cared that she was here.
"That's not my name."
Her voice was low and dangerous, but swept up gratefully by his ears, so hungry for so long for the sound of her voice.
"Mystique," he amended.
Anything. He'd call her anything she asked. She was here. She was back. She was home.
"You're hiding who you are again."
He felt an instant flash of guilt mixed with irritation that she would judge him so quickly. But that was her. Always so absolute.
"I was out," he replied, trying to sound casual. "You do too sometimes. Otherwise I would have seen you by now."
She smiled then but it was a sad smile. And moved down the stairs toward him. He moved toward her as well, heart and mind full of swelling hope, a tentative smile upon his face.
Then she said something he did not expect. Something that killed his smile and shattered his heart.
"I'm sorry, Beast. They have my son," she said quietly. "They'll kill him if I don't complete my mission."
Son? What? A child? Whose? Erik's? Not mine. I never even got to so much as kiss you, remember?
At the last second, he saw the flash of the gun in her previously hidden hand.
Swinging up to point at him. Point blank. Right to the heart. How very fitting. The second shot to the heart in as many seconds.
He instinctively dove out of the way, ripping off his glasses, casting them away to slide under a leather chair in the corner. Rolling to his feet, crouching, with a feral growl and a burst of blue fur. The gunshot echoed loudly in the still room. The bullet missed him and tore itself into the dark wood-paneled wall.
He rose up and struck at her wrist with the back of his own. Knocking the gun away even as she swung at him with her other hand. Bag dropping heavily to the floor, something clanking within. Her striking him right across the face, the blow glancing off his nose, making his eyes water and burn.
"Mystique, stop!" he roared, deflecting the worst of another hit and shoving her back. "Don't do this!"
She went for the gun again and he flung her away from it to the floor with another frustrated roar.
She landed flat on her back on the Persian rug, the wind knocked out of her. And instantly, he was upon her. Literally.
With a roar, he leaped through the air and landed above her, trapping her. One brown-clad knee on either side of her svelte blue hips. His blue clawed hands pressing her upper arms down. His face twisted in a rictus of confusion and barely controlled rage.
He growled menacingly.
He could feel the body heat pouring off her blue form. Hear her quick, gasping breaths as she filled her lungs with life-giving oxygen. Smell her natural scent, sprung to life by a light sheen of perspiration at their brief skirmish. He looked into her yellow eyes. And she looked right at back at him.
"You gonna kill me now, Beast?"
Her question was challenge flung hatefully in his face, driven like a brutal spike into his heart.
He calmed instantly and relinquished his hold on her strong blue arms. Placed his left hand on the floor to stabilize himself.
And gently, tenderly, cupped the side of her lovely face with his right.
"What's going on?" he asked, quieter now."What are you doing?"
Her yellow eyes flashed and she did not answer.
"I've missed you," he murmured gently.
She seemed to soften somewhat. Her yellow eyes lost some of the wild look though they remained alert, studying him closely.
"Did you?" she whispered, the hate appearing to be driven out of her voice by his confession, his look, his touch.
He gazed at her. So close. Never this close since she had sat right down on his lap so long ago like she belonged there. Never so intimate as this at all.
"Yes. I've thought about you. Dreamed about you. Worried . . ." his voice trailed off.
The filtering light played tricks upon her scales, making them wink and shine. She was so beautiful. She was here.
"Beast, I have to go."
A lump rose in his throat. He murmured around it, trying not to beg. She might respond to an entreaty, but never a beg. She would find it weak.
"Stay. We can figure this out. Help you get back . . . your son."
Were those shimmers of tears welling up in her eyes? Had he finally gotten through to her at last?
"I can't," she whispered and her voice sounded full of yearning and regret.
She was so warm, so real. So alive. She was here.
"Please," he whispered. "Please, stay."
She stared up at him, right hand still above her head as it had fallen and left hand moving up to lightly touch his brown clad arm just above the elbow.
He instinctively moved his right hand from her blue scaled cheek to carefully cover her left hand. Caressing her upturned palm lightly with his fingertips while also subconsciously tracking the movements of that hand against assault, against her, unpredictable her.
And slowly, ever so slowly, leaning down. Sensing rather than seeing her other hand rise from the floor, reaching up to clasp his head.
Running her fingers through his blue fur, pulling him down slowly to meet her. His body now lay atop hers. Heart pounding loudly in his ears. He could feel so much of her. And he was sure she could feel more of him than he should prefer.
But he didn't care. She was here.
Searching her eyes. Seeing consent. Desire.
And he kissed her.
Gently, tenderly. Showing her how much he still cared. All his emotion for her, locked deep away for so long, now expressed in the single action of meeting her soft flesh with his own.
Her lips moved in rhythm with his, opening just a little, just enough. The sweet taste of her made his entire body buzz and grow warmer. Her searching fingers tracing fiery trails in his blue fur, around his pointed beast ears. He heard a small, soft sound escape her throat and it inflamed his heightened senses all the more.
Raven. Mystique. She was here. He was kissing her. And she, she was finally letting him.
And it was perfect. Nothing else mattered in that moment.
For Hank McCoy.
His positioning was perfect for her to bring her knee up. And she did. Hard and fast. Right in his crown jewels. The gut-wrenching fist of pain twisted instantly into his stomach, sending acidic bile burning into his throat. Breath escaped him and his lungs refused to function properly. He gasped, a stifled growl of a groan emitting from between his clenched beast teeth as he began to crumple to the floor.
She squirmed out from underneath him, making good her escape as he clutched his damaged goods and tried not to vomit on the floor. He dimly heard the clanking of her picking up the small bag again. And the gun. Her scent fading away from him. Heard her running footsteps diminish as his vision filled with red, gold, and blue designs of the Persian carpet that threatened to rush up and meet his face.
"I'm sorry, Beast," her voice growing fainter, as she drew away. Away from him.
She even sounded sincere.
Me too. Ugh.
And then he woke up from his dream.
Panting, growling, and blue furred.
And he wasn't quite himself for several days afterward.
Well, well, how about that? Hmm, you all okay? Need a moment? *winks knowingly
Alright. Now that you've recovered . . .
Oh, my good grief, have you seen the photos of Beast and Mystique together? What is that about? My first thought was 'oh my' immediately followed by my second thought "this guy's about to get kneed right in the junk'. Haha. Anyway, between those pics and angeleye02's review prompt (thank you, sweetie!), I just had to write something about it.
Yes, yes. I know not even his subconscious mind would have any idea at all about Mystique's son, Kurt. Let's just wave goodbye to reality here, people. We are dealing with mutants after all, yes? ;)
Just to be clear: This chapter ain't smut. I already said I don't write it, yeah? I write right up to the edge and then I stop. So there. ;)
Oh and for a change of pace and a laugh, Youtube "Mcavoy Attacks Hoult". Hilarious!
Thanks to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, Shelllee24, angeleye02, Jinx of the 2nd Law (thanks for the info), lupoea2, lol, theFGnat, and brigid1318 for your positive reviews.
Thanks as well to Efnie, blueoctober, Rosy Nic, and hgwebber27 for adding your support to this tale.
