Truth is Overrated: I was a late bloomer. An old man swooped in and then dropped me into the crazy world of his School for Mutants my senior year of high school. To the surprise of everyone else, I turned out all right. It's been a long time since I called the Institute home, but now I'm back and I think I might be here to stay. Sequel to Normalcy is Overrated.
Disclaimer: The X-Men, SHIELD, the Avengers, the Brotherhood of Mutants, and any other familiar characters are not my property. I claim no ownership of them. They are the creation and property of their creators and the rich assholes that control their every movement. I simply like to toy with them.
Author's Note: This chapter contains VERY EXPLICIT materials. If you are uncomfortable with graphically written sex scenes, please do not read! For all the fans out there… I'm glad that you all enjoyed the previous chapter. Thank you all for the messages and reviews. I always appreciate feedback in any format! I will simply state that there are NUMEROUS chapters within this story wherein Creed and Dani engage in very naughty acts. But, don't expect friskiness in every chapter! I would personally like to blame the fact that I haven't seen my boyfriend since July for the adult themes in this story. Stupid boyfriend.
"The truth is overrated." – Paul Westerberg
~Chapter Twenty-One~
I came awake slowly, opening my eyes once before closing them again. I felt warm and relaxed all over, safe almost. There was a heavy weight over my legs, and it took me a moment to realize that Victor had my legs tucked between his. I felt practically buried under the large man, pressed against his side and tucked partially under him against the soft pillows.
He slept soundly, much to my surprise. With his eyes closed in his slumber, he looked almost peaceful and innocent. His naked body felt heavy against mine, and I was acutely aware of the patches of hair on his body and how they felt against my skin.
I can't believe I actually slept with him. And I didn't know what to do. Everything had seemed like a blur at first, but I'd had multiple opportunities to stop what had happened. Instead, I'd slipped into bed with him and allowed him access to parts of me that extended beyond the physical.
And it scared me.
I attempted to free my legs from his grasp, but he tightened his hold. He then immediately opened his eyes and I found myself staring into those bright amber depths. His eyes searched my face for a moment and he hugged me closer to him with the arm he had wrapped around me.
"Hi," I hazarded, hoping that my morning breath wasn't too off-putting. After all, he did have enhanced senses. "I'm not – what am I supposed to say?" No one had ever told me what to do or what to say. In the movies, people in our situation often had breakfast or something equally as corny, but I didn't want to ask for room service. Morning breath kisses seemed like a bad idea, and it was impossible to read his thoughts. "Victor?" I murmured, hoping he would somehow make everything safe and comfortable.
For a long moment, he did nothing but stare back at me. Finally, he found his voice, and it was husky from sleepiness. "Mm. Good fuck. Thanks. See you later – always works."
"So you want me to leave," I murmured, understanding. I wasn't sure whether to be irritated or relieved, so I chose to feel numb. "I'm going to grab a shower first, and then I'll get out of your hair."
He didn't fight me as I rolled out from under him and slid off of the bed. I felt his gaze between my shoulder blades as I crouched to pick up my discarded clothes before I padded into the bathroom. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and dropped my clothes on the vanity with a muted sigh.
You look like hell, I thought as I stared at my reflection. My hair was wild and tangled, my lips looked puffy and swollen from kissing, and my eyes were glassed over with a mixture of fatigue and satisfaction. Maybe I look like the cat that caught the canary. In spite of my slight fatigue, there was something different that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I felt used – but in a good way.
I glanced at the door that separated me from Victor Creed and decided that, if anything, it was indeed the big, bad cat that caught the canary; which made me the canary. The tube of complimentary toothpaste called my name, so I dabbed a sliver onto the pad of my finger and scrubbed the gritty mint-flavored toothpaste across my teeth. I scrubbed for a few seconds before I spit out the remainder and rinsed my mouth out and felt at least partially more normal.
For years I had talked the talk, but I had never actually walked the walk – the walk of shame that is. I felt awkward and young as I fiddled with the temperature control on the shower and turned the spray on, stepping into the large shower with a sigh. I slid the glass shower door closed and let the scalding hot water pour over my tangled hair and tingling skin like a salve.
When I was twelve, Grandma Janie had sat me down and told me all about the birds and the bees. She'd used my cousins' Barbie dolls to explain the anatomical alignments, but I hadn't really understood. The only reason for the talk, at that point, had been because I'd had my first menstrual cycle. When I was fifteen, we had another talk. By then I had shot up close to six foot tall and was far more physically developed than most of my peers. I was a tomboy at heart, but Grandma Janie talked to me about how important it was to remain chaste until I got married.
"Can't go giving away the milk before they buy the cow, girl," was the advice that she'd given me.
And later, in high school, she'd snorted and shook her head in frustration when she'd caught me and my first real boyfriend kissing on the couch. Over an awkward dinner of her famous fried chicken and homemade biscuits, Grandma Janie made me promise her that if I decided to become active with a boy that she would be the first to know.
Something told me that she'd implied only my high school years. I was a woman, a full grown woman with a career – shot to shit though it was – and bills to pay and a life of my own. It wasn't her business if I'd been pretending for years towards strangers and friends alike and had only just experienced actual sex for the first time.
What you don't know can't hurt you, Grandma Janie, I decided as I poured a healthy dollop of complimentary shampoo into the palm of my hand. I hope the girls all made it to the suite okay. Guilt flooded my senses when I realized that I hadn't worried about Marie and the others the entire night, at least not that I could recall. I'm sure they're fine. I would have gotten a call otherwise.
I racked my brain for the location of my phone and recalled, with a groan of frustration, that it had been in the clutch purse that Marie had loaned me. And that purse, if I recalled correctly, had fallen to the floor somewhere in the living room area when I'd been handsomely seduced by Victor Creed.
With a shudder, I rinsed the rest of the shampoo from my hair and diligently scrubbed my skin with the soap I removed from its wrappings. It smelled of lilac and made my nose twitch, but it seemed necessary to get the scent of sex, and Victor, off of me as well as I could manage.
I lost track of time in the shower and emerged feeling cleaner and somewhat better. The white ultra-soft robe on the hook felt like sin against my skin as I tugged it on, my damp hair trailing over my shoulders. But when I picked up the clothes I had worn the night before, frustration once again laced my veins. I threw them back down and shook my head.
"To hell with him."
I yanked open the bathroom door, an insult ready on my lips, only to find that he was not still in bed. The sound of his voice trailed in through the other room, so I tied the robe tightly and stalked through the room and out into the sitting area.
"Listen here, you asshole –" I skidded to a stop suddenly, eyes wide. Fully clothed, Victor sat at a small breakfast table across from none other than Scott, leader of the X-Men, Summers. "Uh. Good morning, Scott."
As always, his eyes were hidden behind the safety of his glasses. But, the dramatic lift of his eyebrows up over the rim led me to believe that he was more than just a little surprised. His hand tightened around the cup of coffee on the table in front of him and he jerkily nodded his head before he pointedly looked away and stared out the window.
"Summers here was just droppin' in to invite me to his bachelor party. Seems they're headin' to Vegas for the night. But, I'm thinkin' it might be awkward." Victor looked slightly disheveled, his shaggy hair falling over his forehead, but he didn't look the least bit embarrassed. In fact, he looked positively delighted by the awkward situation I'd thrust myself into unknowingly. He seemed too comfortable sitting with the leader of the X-Men in a pair of jeans, a dark shirt and bare feet. "You ought to go get dressed, girl."
I stared at Scott for a long moment, reddening with shame, and quickly nodded. Spinning on my heel, I did my very best to make sure my stride was slow and confident. But, the moment that I was in the safety of the bedroom, I slammed the door shut and ran to the bathroom in horror.
"Now Scott knows." I groaned at my reflection as I dragged my hands through my hair. "Which means Jean knows, or is going to know. There is no way I'm going to be able to keep this under wraps." I jerkily tugged a plastic black brush through my hair, managing to remove most of the snarls. "And now I have to go upstairs and explain and find clean clothes. What a joy."
I silently wondered how long I could hide in the bathroom and stare at the mirror. Another few minutes, probably. Scott would eventually leave and I could sneak out and beat the shit out of Victor, which would make me feel better.
Something bright caught my gaze and I found myself staring at the tags that rested atop the dip of my cleavage. As they had for six and a half years, they felt like they belonged there. They felt warm and safe against my skin, and it irritated me. There was no reason that something as simple as metal tags with his name, the name Sabretooth added later, and several numbers could ever be special. Yet, they were.
A knock sounded at the bathroom door and I pulled it open jerkily. He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, a pleased smile on his face.
"Fuck off."
"Scott brought your bag down. He thought you might like some fresh clothes." Eyes ablaze, he motioned over his shoulder to my overnight bag, whose contents were spread across the bed. "Don't mind if ya keep the robe on."
Annoyed, I shoved past him and stalked toward the bed to run my eyes over my clothes and toiletries. I grabbed a pair of panties and tugged them on under the robe and picked up a pair of jeans, only to have him peel them out of my grasp.
I glared up at him as he tossed the jeans back onto the bed and tugged on the knot of the robe. Dumbfounded, I stared at him as he slid his hands under the robe and pushed it off of my shoulders, forcing it to pool on the carpet.
"What are you –"
"This," he interrupted gruffly.
I leaned up into the kiss as he pressed his lips against mine, soft and tentative at first. It felt different than the night before when there had been only heat and need. He gently slipped his tongue between my lips and I sighed in exultation as the heat filled my body. I stepped toward him, body pressed flush against his, and reveled in the feel of my bare skin against his clothed body.
His shirt was soft against my nipples, but the friction seemed like too much when I lifted one hand to cup the side of his face. He nipped at my lip and grabbed me by my elbows, pulling back far enough to look me in the eye.
"You'd be smart to get dressed and get out of here."
I opened my mouth to respond but bit back the reply, instead focusing on the heated gaze he swept over my nearly-naked form. My entire body tingled with the stirrings of need, even if I was still very angry and uncomfortable with him and the entire situation.
"Why did Scott bring my bag down here?" That's right, I thought to myself silently. Ask stupid questions to detract him from the fact that you have no idea what's going on.
He lifted a dark brow in surprise, but said nothing as he let one hand trace its way up my arm. "The bachelor party is heading out in an hour. He said the girls aren't headin' back to the School til this evening. Something about shoppin' for Hawaii."
"How'd he know I was here?"
"Guessin' it was Red. Why?" He smirked at me and my face flushed in embarrassment. "Weren't plannin' on keeping me a secret, were you?"
"It would be impossible to keep what happened last night a secret, but it's not like there's any need to drag this out." It sounded like the right thing to say, and I straightened my shoulders slightly as the words left my lips. I wasn't one of those smooth and seductive women I'd seen in numerous movies – but I could sure as hell pretend to be.
He said nothing, but he exhaled sharply and his warm breath tickled my face. I swallowed my question as one of his hands traced its way up the length of my arm to brush over the thin metal chain attached to the tags. He brushed his fingers over the metal tags and I held my breath as he allowed those wandering fingers to tease my nipple.
I inhaled sharply and hated the smirk that curled his lips. "I thought you wanted me to leave?"
"Never said that," he replied gruffly. "Said it'd be smart to leave."
"What's the difference?"
He tugged on the tags and I placed my hands on his hips, prepared to push him away. "Thought I'd get ya out of my system. But, last night wasn't enough."
"That sounds like a personal problem to –" I gasped as he abruptly grabbed my hips and lifted me off of the floor. He ground his hips against me and I was surprised to feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against me. My lips opened in shock as he wrapped my legs around his waist. "I could rip your arm out of its socket." It would be easy, too. I could snap it right out of its socket and then rip it out, bone and tendons and all.
"I could gut you," he replied with a snarl. "But, you waited six and a half years, as ya pointed out. Figure the least I can do is give ya a bit more to remember me by." He walked us toward the large windows, covered by gaudy gold-tinted window hangings, and squeezed my ass affectionately. "I like fuckin' ya."
His choice of words was somehow nearly degrading and yet arousing at the same time. He didn't use smooth, slick words; he used the truth. "I like fucking you, too, but –" he cut me off again, this time by capturing my lips again.
There was something all-encompassing about the feel of his lips against mine, the way that his chest pressed against me as he ground his hips against me in a slow and knowing manner. There was nothing separating us but the thin layer of fabric of my panties and his jeans, and the feel of his straining erection felt magnificent as he purposely rubbed it against my body.
I clutched at his back and savored the taste and feel of his lips and tongue as he pressed me against the cool window. Gasping, I stared at him in confusion as he let me slip to stand on my own two feet.
"Can't nobody see," he assured me as he placed my hands on his shirt. And I couldn't help but wonder why he was intent on having his way with me in front of the window. "Can't hurt me."
Not sure if it was permission, I pulled on his shirt and watched in amazement as it ripped in my hands. Licking my lips, I peeled the torn short from his body and watched as his muscles rippled under my touch. I traced my fingers over his perfectly formed body and inhaled the grunt that escaped his lips. When I placed one hand on the clasp of his jeans, he smirked.
This is so silly. Shaking my head in warning, I told him, "I hope you have another pair."
The metal clasp broke in my fingers as I snapped it, tugging the zipper down greedily to rub my hand over his dick. He groaned and the palms of his hands hit the window on either side of my head heavily, his weight braced. I used one hand to push his jeans down over his hips while the other cupped and fully explored the wonder of his dick.
During the night, he hadn't let me explore his body very thoroughly. Whenever I got too hands-on or too close to his crotch with my mouth, he'd distracted me and thrust himself inside of me. But, he merely stared down at me, breathing heavily, as I gripped as much of his length as I could with one hand.
"I do this to you?" I asked quietly as I tentatively stroked his dick. He thrust against me once, but said nothing as I added my other hand to the mix. "I like that I do this to you." It was one thing to know that I could pick up a full-sized pickup truck and throw it across a parking lot like it was an awkwardly shaped box of rocks. But, the satisfaction and wonder I felt at pleasing one of the world's most dangerous and feared individuals filled me with a delicious satisfaction I had never known existed.
His breath was hot against my face as he deftly reached one hand down and slipped it inside my panties. My eyes widened as I pressed my back against the glass, hungrily sliding myself over his fingers as I squeezed his dick gently.
Neither of us said a word as he tugged on my panties, ripping them away with a snap of elastic. I braced my hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his hand around his erection and pumped it twice, his eyes darkening as lust claimed his senses completely. My eyes narrowed greedily when he lifted my leg and draped it over his thigh, his hard dick pressed against me. He rubbed it over my slit a few times before he lifted me just enough to take him in.
"Oh, fuck." I clenched around him and allowed myself to wrap both legs around him. My back braced against the window, I stared into his eyes and tangled my fingers in his hair. "Don't hold back," I pleaded, body quivering. "Don't hold back on me." I didn't have to remind him that I could take whatever he could dish out – at least potentially.
His lips possessed mine as he thrust into me further, all the way up to the hilt. I gasped against his mouth as he started fucking me, hard and fast. Time lost its meaning as I clung to his shoulders and gasped his name over and over again. Then I realized that while pace was fast, it wasn't quite fast enough. I wanted more.
Sensing my need, he carried me to the bed and sat down, me cradled in his lap with my legs still around him. I kissed him hungrily and pushed him down onto his back and straddled his lap, him still inside of me. He groaned like an animal in heat as I rocked crazily, fucking him as hard as he'd fucked me.
He dug his fingers into the flesh of my hips and guided himself into me with every rock, every thrust. His eyes stared up at me hungrily as I fucked him, my breasts bouncing and sweat beading down my body. Just when I felt close to coming, he rolled us over so that he was on top.
"More," I begged, mouth dry with need. "Victor!"
He pounded into me almost angrily, his hands pinning my thighs in place so that they were spread as far as they would go. He pierced into me achingly sharp, penetrating me so deeply that the sounds of our lovemaking could be heard over our moans.
I tumbled over that ledge suddenly, grunting as my hips rose up off of the bed as I climaxed. The sensation seemed to hold me in its grasp for longer than ever before as he thrust into me again and again, never slowing his pace. His fingers teased my clit as he pumped himself into me one last time, growling as his dick twitched and spasmed inside of me several times. The sensation, along with the pressure on my clit, made me come again.
Minutes passed in a dazed fog as we laid together, him on top and still inside of me. And for reasons unknown, I found myself smiling.
"Tired of fucking me yet?" I asked breathlessly, still smiling when he opened his eyes to meet my gaze. "Too bad, even if you are."
"Ain't. Don't know if I ever will be."
It wasn't the flowers and chocolates that Grandma Janie had told me would accompany wooing. Hell, it wasn't even a good first date. He was technically old enough to be my great-grandpa (probably several great-greats were in there somewhere), and had killed more men than some deadly diseases. But, there we were, locked together in the most intimate of ways.
And I stupidly wanted more; I wanted to explore the weird feelings I had for the man and hope that against all odds that it all worked out.
He rolled so that we were side by side, facing one another. His fingers were warm on my skin as he lifted my leg and hooked it over his hip, his dick still hard inside of me. Not at all surprised by his quick recovery, I smirked as he pulled out of me and thrust back into me sharply.
I could get used to this, I decided. I closed my eyes as the heady sensations flooded my senses, my breasts tingling as I rubbed them against his chest. No wonder why Viv is always smiling. Two healing factors and two able bodies…
"Kiss me," I demanded hungrily as I yanked his lips toward me and plundered them greedily.
Even if it only lasted for a few more hours, it was worth it.
A/N: I do believe that Creed may have turned our rough and tumble former-SHIELD agent into a minx. Uh oh.