Thank you all for the great reviews!
Gypsy:: I'm glad your enjoying it so much! I couldn't think of a better place to have Morgan and Kurt start off than in her apartment. As you can see, I have brought other x-men into the story, and I'm sure I'll be bringing in more later. Morgan is... pretty much me. LOL it's what I'd do, if that universe were real, and I was able to do it. Keep checking back! I hope to update more frequently!
Celia: Thanks for the website, I'll be sure to check that out. I wonder if they do Gaelic...and You've already got your answer to the metal squealing question. Though honestly, I feel like that chapter is the weakest one so far. Yes she and Pat are a lot like Father Daughter. Pat's her mother's brother, and when Morgan's dad was away, Pat was the one that took care of them all. So there's definitely a bit of that in their relationship.
Coral: Don't worry, it's just nice to know that your enjoying it so much! And who says it's Candy's voice...
Ezrajade: Thank you very much. For some reason, even though I hate reading first person, I seem to be good at writing it. It might be because I only have to deal with one characters perspective, or it could be that I've read too much Laurell K Hamilton!
Goddesschild: Only one thing I can say is, thank you. That's exactly the kind of review I'm striving for! :D :D
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I swimming in a sea of blackness. It was warm, and liquid against my skin and comforting like the embrace of a lover. There was also a rushing, roaring sound that reminded me of the ocean breaking upon the rocks. A good sound, soothing and steady and completely natural. I felt safe, warm, comforted, as if nothing in the world could possibly harm me. There was no sense of time, no sense of self other than that I existed, and in that existence was the ultimate perfection of peace.
Then, color came. Warm reds and oranges, subtle in the deep darkness, flashing across my field of vision. Only it wasn't just in front of me, it was around me. I could see it circling me from every ankle, as if my eyes did not point forward, but everywhere at the same time. The color brushed across my skin like cool silk, wrapped itself around me, flirted with me before fluttering off. Soon other colors joined it, blues, greens, yellows, all manner of color.
Sounds too came, distant, like voices at the end of a hall you can just barely make out. I strained to hear them, and in the straining felt my very first sensation. A deep throbbing that seemed to emanate from where my head should be, and slowly spreading out into the rest of me. It pulsed, and with each pulse came more sensation. Pleasant at first, then building faster and faster, become more intense, more painful, until I felt I could cry from it.
Then, there was chaos. Lights, sounds, sensations, all pummeling at me, overwhelming me. I couldn't make sense of anything. I shut my eyes, and whimpered, trying to raise my hands to cover my ears, but they were strapped down. Tears flowed from my eyes and down my cheeks. "Morgan?" Someone said, and I thrashed in my bonds. It hurt! Oh I felt my ears would bleed from it!
Then, it stopped. It was like a camera coming back into focus. Everything fell into place, and I realized with an absolute clarity where I was. I was laying on a rather hard mattress, with padded straps encasing my ankles and wrists. There was another strap across my legs, and another across my chest just below my breasts. There was a low humming sound, like an engine. I could taste something acrid on my tongue, like I'd thrown up and hadn't had anything to drink afterward. The smell of it hung thick in the air, clung to me, and clothes felt damp in places. Had I been sick?
I opened my eyes and saw a polished steel ledge above me. My eyes scanned the area, noting the narrowness of the room, yet more polished steel, and a few chairs with harnesses on them. Then, my eyes fell upon Kurt. He was looking at me with deep concern, crouched next to the bed.
"Kurt," I rasped, my throat was dry, burning, and I was desperately thirsty. "What happened?"
Relief passed over his face, fleeting, and then he schooled his expression to one of calm. "I am not sure." He said. "Do you remember what happened?"
I frowned, trying to think of the last thing I remembered. I recalled someone knocking on my door, and answering it, but beyond that I couldn't remember a damn thing. I shook my head and winced, for it caused a surprising amount of pain. "No." I said. "Thirsty."
He disappeared and came back a few moments later with a glass of water. He held my head up, putting the glass to my lips and I drank greedily. The cool water tasted so good that I whimpered when he took the glass away. "Not too much, or you will make yourself sick again." He said.
"Why am I restrained?" I asked, wiggling my arm feebly. I was pleased when it didn't hurt that much.
"You were not yourself." He said. Quickly, he outlined what had happened. I noted the scratch marks on his arm, some were rather deep, and there was a set of bite marks on his right forearm that I'm sure I was responsible for.
"Oh Kurt – I'm so sorry-"
He waved a three fingered hand at me. "Do not apologize." He smiled at me, and it left me momentarily dazzled. It was like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Sudden, tantalizing, warm. "I do not believe you were responsible for those actions."
I sighed then, and said "Well, I still feel bad about it." I tried to shift, but the restraints held me fast. "Can you let me go please?"
He deftly unbuckled me from the restraints, and I took a deep breath of relief. "Where are we now?" I asked.
"The Blackbird." He said. "It is a jet, a private jet apparently. One that I believe I could pilot myself, if Logan would let me." He looked around. "It seems very familiar."
"I'm not letting you anywhere near these controls Fuzzy." I heard Logan's voice come. "Not until you've gotten all of your memory back."
I wanted to sit up and get a better look around. Experimentally, I tried to move on my own, and pain exploded through me. It was like someone had dipped me into acid from my crown to my toes, and I gasped from it, my breath drawn sharp and tight. "Please, don't move around." Kurt said. "I fear you may be injured."
"We're almost there." Logan said.
"Almost where?" I asked.
"Xavier's." Came the cryptic response. I looked at Kurt, and he shrugged. "You'll be safe there."
"Safe." I said. I hadn't even known that I was in danger!
We were silent for the remainder of the flight. I gradually began to feel better, and managed to sit up on my own despite Kurt's protests. He handed me the glass of water, and I held it with shaking hands as the strength slowly began to return to my limbs.
There was a ball of tension sitting in my belly, and it was gradually growing larger as we approached our final destination. What awaited me there? More importantly, what awaited Kurt? Was I sure I was with the good guys, and not the bad ones? Doubt gnawed at me, and slowly grew into fear. As we began our final descent, I found myself wondering if I was going from the pan and into the fire.
We seemed to slow to a stop in midair, and then drift slowly downward. I've heard of planes that could do that, but I'd never been in one and it was a rather odd sensation. The was barely a bump as the Blackbird's tires set down on solid ground. Logan powered down the engines, just as the rear hatch was opening to let us disembark.
Kurt helped me to my shaky feet, just as a young man with sandy brown hair and red sunglasses bustled into the cabin. "Logan! Just what the hell did you think you were-" he stopped short when he saw Kurt and I. His mouth worked silently for a moment. "Kurt!" he exclaimed. "Thank God your alright!"
"Thank you, ah-" Kurt paused.
"Scott." Logan supplied as he brushed past us. "C'mon. Let's get you guys into the infirmary."
Scott looked at Logan, and then back to Kurt. "What's going on?" He asked softly.
"Fuzzy here can't remember a damn thing." Logan said. He produced the butt of a cigar and clamped it between his teeth. I was beginning to think he couldn't function without one. "And the girl? I'll let them tell that." He said. I leaned heavily against Kurt, acutely aware that I must look and smell horrible, and then I realized that once again my illusion was gone. Was my control really that bad? I thought briefly about putting it back into place, and then decided to just forget it. It was one less thing for me to worry about.
I took a few stumbling steps before Kurt finally hissed in irritation and scooped me up into his arms. I squeaked, surprised, and he chuckled as I threw my arms around his neck, eyes wide. "Relax." He said. "I won't drop you."
"Sure, you say that now." I said. "But what happens when your arms get to tired to hold me?"
"Then I shall carry you by sheer force of will alone." He said softly. Funny thing was, I believed him. He carried me as if I weighed nothing at all. We walked down the ramp, and into the hanger, which was rather large. I tried to look around, but felt my eyelids getting heavy. Was I really that tired? I sighed, and without thinking rested my head against Kurt's shoulder. I could look around later.
I snuggled into his arms like a child, and closed my eyes. My fingers curled into the fringe of his hair, and I found myself playing with the curls as he carried me. I could hear his pulse, the rhythm of his heartbeat. It seemed like home to me, and I let it lull me into a half sleep.
I murmured in sleepy protest when he set me down, my arms still firmly wrapped around his neck. He chuckled, a deep throaty rumble. "Morgan, let me go." He said gently. I sighed and with great reluctance released him and cracked my eyes open.
I was sitting on a hospital gurney, in a room that looked like a cross between a hospital ER and some sort of experimental research facility. I couldn't even begin to think of what half of the machines in there did. There was a tall, beautiful red headed woman standing nearby, and a handsome bald man in a wheelchair. "Welcome home Kurt." The bald man said. His voice was just slightly accented, the kind that comes from high society, and old money. "We were very worried."
"Ah, thank you, um" Kurt paused, and frowned.
"Professor Charles Xavier." Logan supplied. He was leaning against the doorframe, cigar still clamped in his teeth. He looked a lot better when he wasn't pretending to be a chimney. "Kurt has partial amnesia Chuck." He said.
The Professor nodded. "Yes, yes that makes sense. And welcome to you Morgan. I hope that you find your stay with us to be a pleasant one."
I shifted. "How did you know my name?" I hadn't been out of it enough to have had someone say it and not hear it, had I?
The professor pressed a finger to his temple. "We all have our gifts here."
"A telepath." I said, and he nodded. "Well, I hope you don't make a habit of rummaging around unnecessarily."
"Not any more than I have to." He smiled. "I respect a persons right to privacy."
"Good to know." I said.
"Hello," The red head said. "My name is Jean. I'd like to examine you, if you don't mind." She stepped forward with hand extended, and I shook it. My alabaster skin made her normal human paleness look tan.
"You're a doctor, I assume?" I asked, and she laughed.
"Yes. I am. I'd like to take a look at both of you, if you don't mind. Kurt?" she turned to him, and he simply nodded. She gave me a cursory examination, then pronounced me in good health. "Still, I'd like to run some psychological tests, if you don't mind. For the memory loss, and sudden change in behavior."
I shrugged. "I already believe it's a similar phenomenon as what happened to Kurt. She must have used a bigger whammy on him though, because other than that one moment, I pretty much remember everything else."
"Logan, can you show her to the guests rooms? I'm sure she'd like to get cleaned up-" Xavier began to say, but at a panicked glance from Kurt, I interrupted him.
"I'm sorry Professor Xavier, but I'd really like to stay with Kurt." I said. "So far, you haven't tried to harm us, but that doesn't mean that your entirely friendly as of yet." I was being honest, but I felt it better to get it out into the open. "You'll understand if I'm a little paranoid."
"Of course." Professor Xavier said. "You may remain, if you wish."
Kurt gave me a grateful smile, and I found myself smiling back. Jean examined him carefully, raising an eyebrow at the scratches. "My fault." I said. "Apparently, I went a bit out of my mind. Kurt had to hold me back to keep me from hurting him, or Logan."
Logan snorted. "Kid, I don't think you'd want to try to hurt me." I remembered the claws, and the ease in which he'd thrown Kurt, and nodded. The man oozed danger and a 'don't fuck with me' attitude that I didn't really want to come up against.
"Well, they don't look to bad." She said. "They should heal up on their own, and I doubt there will be much of a scar. Still, we should keep them covered so they don't get infected." She cleaned them thoroughly, then smeared some greasy looking salve onto them before bandaging them up. Kurt's arms were bandaged from wrist to elbow on both arms.
"Kurt, I'll give you both a chance to get cleaned up, and I would very much like it if you joined me for dinner." Professor Xavier said. "You too Logan. We are best to discuss this as a group. Logan, if you wouldn't mind showing Kurt back to his room? And perhaps we can get Ms Flannigan a room nearby..." the Professor wheeled himself out in his electric chair.
"Sure thing Chuck," Logan said to the departing man's back. "Well, you heard the man. Follow me."
I stood on shaky legs, taking a few experimental steps to see if I was up to walking. Kurt was at my side in an instant, but I shooed him away. Being carried was all well and good, but I wasn't going to let him hold me up in the shower! It seemed I was able to work under my own steam for the time being,
We followed Logan through a maze of windowless tunnels, to an elevator. It was a short trip up, and then the door slid open. I felt my jaw drop at what I saw.
My first assumption of old money had been dead on. As he led us through what I can only describe as a mansion, I suddenly felt very, very poor. The place positively screamed old American wealth. I could easily see the Vanderbilt's or the Rockefellers getting comfortable here.
He led us down a hallway, and into an entryway with a rather grand staircase. Up the stairs we went, and down another hall to a doorway. This too let out into a set of stairs, and we found ourselves going even farther up. Down the hall in the opposite direction, to another staircase. This led to an extremely narrow hallway. "Servants quarters?" I asked.
"Used to be." Logan said. "Now, it's just bedrooms. They've been enlarged, had bathrooms added. Besides, it was the only place we could fit Kurt's jungle gym."
"Jungle gym?" I questioned, just as we reached a doorway. "Here you are." Logan said, and he opened the door.
Kurt stepped in, and I followed him, looking around curiously. It wasn't at all what I was expecting. It seemed to be a standard bedroom, rather tastefully decorated. There were two circus posters, framed, both depicting "Das Unglaubliche Nightcrawler" in German, and then "The Incredible Nightcrawler" in English. I found it odd that Nightcrawler was the same in English and German. Either way, it was clearly Kurt, diving through the air from a trapeze. He looked extra devilish, and almost frightening in his expression.
He walked up to the posters, and smiled. "Now this I remember." He said. "The spotlight was the only place I could truly be myself..." his eyes traveled upward, and his smile broadened. "Aha. Jungle gym."
I looked up to see that his room had no ceiling. Or rather, the ceiling had been taken out and extended up to the very rafters. In a space that I was sure used to be an attic was now an elaborate tangle of pipes. Kurt immediately bamfed up into the center of the mess, perching on one of the bars. His toes gripped it surely as he crouched there, arms resting easily on his thighs. "I must live here." He said. "For this does feel like home."
I smiled and felt myself relax a bit. He seemed right at home here, there was no doubt in my mind that this place had been made for him. "Well," I said uncertainly.
"Go." Kurt said, and he swung upside down, hanging from the bar by two feet and his tail, which had coiled tightly around it. Even upside down, he still looked crouched, still rested his arms on his thighs. I was beginning to understand how all that muscle tone had come to be. It didn't even appear to be straining him at all. "Go, get cleaned up. I will be here. Then, we may have dinner with the Professor, and hopefully some things will begin to come clear."
I hesitated. I really did want a shower-desperately!- but I was also concerned about him. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine." He said, and made a shooing motion at me with his hands. I sighed, and followed Logan out the door.
Logan led me a few doors down, and opened the door. It was a simple room, with a full size bed, a dresser, a small desk, and two doors, one of which I guessed was a closet, and the other a bathroom. 'Here ya go. This should do for now. As far as I know it's unoccupied."
"Thank you Logan." I said. Then, I remembered I had nothing to wear. "Um,"
"I'll see if Jean can't scrounge up something for you to wear." He looked me up and down, but not in a lewd way. More like he was trying to size me up. "I'm sure between all the women here we can find something for you."
I was touched that he'd thought of it. It showed a depth of humanity I didn't think the man possessed. I cocked my head and looked at him, I mean, really looked at him. Beneath that gruff exterior, I was willing to bet, was a very very big heart. I had no doubt that the man had an astounding capacity for violence, but it also struck me that he had a sense of honor. He reminded me of a marine who had been a friend of my fathers; all hard and rigid on the outside, but on the inside, if you stroked him just right, you could almost make him cry.
"Logan," I said, "If I wasn't covered in my own vomit, I'd hug you."
Much to my surprise, he laughed. "Yeah well, I don't want the smell clinging to me all day." He said. "Get cleaned up. I promise there'll be something here for you to wear when you get out."
He left me then, and I didn't hesitate. I peeled off the disgusting clothing I was wearing, fighting the urge not to throw up again. I left them in a heap on the bedroom floor and checked the doorway on the right wall. Lucky me, it was a bathroom. It was a bit larger than I had anticipated, and held a toilet, sink with a mirrored cabinet above it, and a rather large bathtub. It was completely tiled in white, and there was a blue rug on the floor in front of the tub. Clean towels were hanging from the towel rack that was bolted to the wall. Thick, white and long. I'd get to those later.
On the counter of the sink was a small basket with shampoo, body wash, conditioner, a loofa, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss, pretty much everything a girl could need short of a kitchen sink. I wondered how it had gotten here so fast, and for that matter how Logan had known which room to take me too. Then I remembered that the professor was a telepath, and probably had all of this set up the moment he'd first laid eyes on me.
There was a white terrycloth robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door, so I wouldn't have to parade around in towels until my clothing arrived. I guess the really did think of everything.
I fumbled with the faucet until I got it to the appropriate heat, the transferred the stuff I'd need in the shower onto a shelf inside of it. Then, I stepped in and let the hot water take me away. I scrubbed and scrubbed at me skin until it felt raw, convinced I would never get the smell off, then washed my hair twice. Finally I felt human enough (hell, I even shaved!) to exit the shower and get dry.
I wrapped my hair up in a towel and dried off with the other one, then slipped on the robe. In the bedroom, someone had laid out a pair of blue jeans, a black baby doll T-shirt, and much to my surprise, a matching bra and panty set with the tags still on. Simple white cotton, but they were my size so I felt no qualms about it. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and let myself fall backwards. I laid there for a few moments with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I just wanted to rest for a few moments, and then get dressed.
A knock sounded at my door, and I groaned. My back was a tangle of knots, and my legs were tingly. Had I fallen asleep? I must have, because it had become noticeably more dim in the room. I stood, pins and needles already beginning in my feet. "fraulien?" Came a familiar voice. "Morgan? May I come in?"
"Come in Kurt." I said, and wiggled my legs, trying to get more feeling into them. I unbound my hair from the towel as the door cracked open and he stepped in.
"You are just getting out of the shower?" He asked, surprised, and I laughed.
"No, I fell asleep I think." I said. I stretched, and winced. "I must be more tired than I thought."
"Ah." He said. "Well, I was thinking we could go down to dinner together," he said, almost shyly.
"Sure, just let me throw these clothes on." I bent over to pick up the clothes off the bed, and he made a choked sound. I realized that my robe had gaped open and given him rather an eyeful. I looked up at him, and he was resolutely looking in another direction. I couldn't be sure, but I think he might actually have been blushing.
A wicked urge filled me then. I am, after all, a woman. As a general rule, I don't consider myself to be a tease, but sometimes it's hard not to be. Kurt had quite obviously enjoyed the brief peek at my flesh he had gotten, and honestly I hadn't minded him seeing it.
I ripped the tag off the undies, and slipped them over my feet, wiggling the white cotton up my legs, flashing a more than generous expanse of thigh at Kurt. He glanced my way as if he couldn't help himself. "I should wait outside-" he said. "No, then we can't talk!" I said. Of course, that forced me to find something to talk about. "So, did you do anything after your shower?"
"I went through my drawers," he said, "Trying to find something that looked familiar." As he spoke, I took the jeans and slid them on. "There were a few things that jogged my memory, but-"he stopped short as I turned my back on him and dropped the robe to the ground. I retrieved my bra and slipped it on, then picked up the T-shirt and turned back to him.
"But?" I asked, as I slid the black fabric over my head.
"I, ah" he stammered. Then, in an abrupt puff of black smoke, he was gone.
Damn.
I'd messed up. I knew it the moment he vanished. What had I been thinking? Kurt probably wasn't used to being teased, because most woman wouldn't be able to get past the whole devil thing. But I didn't see that, I just saw Kurt. Funny, smart, irresistible Kurt. Then, I recalled how he'd caught me looking at him, and remembered the illusion, and felt even more horrible.
I didn't bother to brush my hair. I just pulled it back into a pony tail with a holder I found in the basket, and went looking for him. I didn't have any shoes either, but chances are I wouldn't' come to a place in the house that I needed them.
The first place I checked was his bedroom. He wasn't there. I wasn't familiar enough with the house to go wandering about opening doors and snooping into things, and I was willing to bet that Kurt didn't remember enough either. I tried to think for a moment, if I were him, where would I go that I could be sure no one would bother me, and I wouldn't bother anyone else. The only place I could think of was the roof, as it seemed to be the hardest place to get to.
So how the hell did I get up there? I sighed, and walked down the hall, spying a door at the very end. I knocked, and when no one answered, turned the knob. It opened up to a rather narrow flight of stairs, slightly dusty with disuse. I walked up the stairs, fumbling for a light switch, and found myself in the attic. Amazingly enough, it was empty. Though the top floor didn't seem to be as dusty as the stairs. In fact, in one dim corner I spotted and old crate, a flashlight, and two or three bean bag chairs. Strange, but I decided to let it go.
I wandered the length of the attic, inspecting the ceiling for some kind of hatch. Luck was with me, because I found exactly what I was looking for. I popped the hatch, and clambered out onto the roof. It was indeed dark outside, and stars spangled the sky like someone had dropped a bag of glitter on a velvet blanket. I'd never seen so many stars, and for a moment, I just stared at the sheer beauty of it. There was a large, dark void in one spot, and I knew it was the moon. It was new; not a sliver of white was showing, but it still managed to displace a great deal of stars.
I sighed, and looked around the roof. It rose and fell, it's shingled self a bit more angled than I felt would be safe to walk on. I'd already committed myself to finding Kurt though, so I crawled out, staying low and trying to keep as close to the side as possible. My logic was the closer to the ground I was, the less likely I was to fall.
I crawled up to the peak of this particular part of the roof, and looked around. Luck was with me, because Kurt was on this very length of roof, perched like a gargoyle right on the edge. I scooted down a bit, realizing I was making a good deal of noise in the process. His tail lashed, and he half turned to face me.
"Please, Kurt," I said, "Don't go."
He turned away, and I could practically see the tension in his body. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.
"To apologize." I said. I managed to maneuver myself behind him. I sat, legs tucked underneath me, spine hunched and hands just barely off the surface of the roof. I made the mistake of looking down, and then snapped my eyes forward. What a time to find out I was afraid of heights. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"
"Nein, you have nothing to apologize for." Kurt said. "I acted a fool, and escaped. I was-" he stopped, and shifted.
"Kurt, I know very well what you were doing." I said. "Which is why I was doing what I was doing." I took a deep breath. "It's rare that a man looks at me that way, and sometimes, I can't see to help myself. I'm very sorry. It didn't occur to me that-" I paused.
"What?" he said softly.
"That you may not be used to a woman doing that." I finished.
For a moment, he stared at me. Then he grinned, and turned to face me. "Morgan," he said, "I am used to that, and more." He said. "No, it was not your teasing that chased me out of the room."
I was confused, and a bit upset that I'd climbed out onto this roof apparently for nothing. I sat up a bit more, and planted my fists on my hips. "Well then why-"
Something shifted beneath me, and much to my horror, I felt myself beginning to slide. I yelped, and threw myself in the opposite direction of the slide. My hands worked to grip something, anything, but every shingle I grabbed seemed to come unstuck from the roof. I was going to fall, and if it didn't kill me, it sure was going to hurt like hell.
Then Kurt was there. I felt his hand wrap itself around my wrist, and my descent downward halted. I grabbed his wrist with my free hand, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "Kurt, oh god."
"Be calm." He said. Then, he drew me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into his arms. I felt a sudden lurch, and the world spun. My stomach roiled, and I felt my tongue swell, as if I were going to be sick. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, we were standing in my bedroom. I felt my knees try to give way, and Kurt held me fast. "Stay still. Teleporting can make you ill." I looked around, and the room was spinning. I shut my eyes again, and swallowed.
"How can you stand that?" I asked. I could still feel the room moving even though we were standing still.
"You get used to it," he said. I could feel his breath on my ear, the brush of his arms against mine, and those sensations helped to bring my stomach back from the edge. I leaned into him, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. I placed my arms over his, my hands on his, my fingers sliding to merge with his. It was awkward at first, but I found a comfortable position.
Something snaked around my thigh, wrapping it's warm sinuous length around me. I felt the spaded tip of his tail brush against my calf. He shifted, and I heard him take a deep breath. I felt something soft brush against my neck, and realized it was his lips. I felt the fur of his cheek brush against my cheek, and it felt so much softer than then fur he had elsewhere. I shivered, feeling my body begin to respond to him, a warm rush of pleasure falling over me. My heart was racing, my breath was short, and all rational thought was slowly leaving me.
I felt his lips brush against my neck, and the barest flick of his tongue against my skin that drew a gasp from my lips. His mouth burned against my skin as it traveled up the length of my neck. He laid kisses along my jaw, and my head turned to meet him. There was nothing else that existed for me but him, the feel of his arms, the smell of him, the touch of his lips. I ached for him, a pain so deliciously wonderful that I both wanted it to end, and wanted it to continue forever.
My door banged open, and Kurt was gone in a swirl of black smoke.
Gypsy:: I'm glad your enjoying it so much! I couldn't think of a better place to have Morgan and Kurt start off than in her apartment. As you can see, I have brought other x-men into the story, and I'm sure I'll be bringing in more later. Morgan is... pretty much me. LOL it's what I'd do, if that universe were real, and I was able to do it. Keep checking back! I hope to update more frequently!
Celia: Thanks for the website, I'll be sure to check that out. I wonder if they do Gaelic...and You've already got your answer to the metal squealing question. Though honestly, I feel like that chapter is the weakest one so far. Yes she and Pat are a lot like Father Daughter. Pat's her mother's brother, and when Morgan's dad was away, Pat was the one that took care of them all. So there's definitely a bit of that in their relationship.
Coral: Don't worry, it's just nice to know that your enjoying it so much! And who says it's Candy's voice...
Ezrajade: Thank you very much. For some reason, even though I hate reading first person, I seem to be good at writing it. It might be because I only have to deal with one characters perspective, or it could be that I've read too much Laurell K Hamilton!
Goddesschild: Only one thing I can say is, thank you. That's exactly the kind of review I'm striving for! :D :D
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I swimming in a sea of blackness. It was warm, and liquid against my skin and comforting like the embrace of a lover. There was also a rushing, roaring sound that reminded me of the ocean breaking upon the rocks. A good sound, soothing and steady and completely natural. I felt safe, warm, comforted, as if nothing in the world could possibly harm me. There was no sense of time, no sense of self other than that I existed, and in that existence was the ultimate perfection of peace.
Then, color came. Warm reds and oranges, subtle in the deep darkness, flashing across my field of vision. Only it wasn't just in front of me, it was around me. I could see it circling me from every ankle, as if my eyes did not point forward, but everywhere at the same time. The color brushed across my skin like cool silk, wrapped itself around me, flirted with me before fluttering off. Soon other colors joined it, blues, greens, yellows, all manner of color.
Sounds too came, distant, like voices at the end of a hall you can just barely make out. I strained to hear them, and in the straining felt my very first sensation. A deep throbbing that seemed to emanate from where my head should be, and slowly spreading out into the rest of me. It pulsed, and with each pulse came more sensation. Pleasant at first, then building faster and faster, become more intense, more painful, until I felt I could cry from it.
Then, there was chaos. Lights, sounds, sensations, all pummeling at me, overwhelming me. I couldn't make sense of anything. I shut my eyes, and whimpered, trying to raise my hands to cover my ears, but they were strapped down. Tears flowed from my eyes and down my cheeks. "Morgan?" Someone said, and I thrashed in my bonds. It hurt! Oh I felt my ears would bleed from it!
Then, it stopped. It was like a camera coming back into focus. Everything fell into place, and I realized with an absolute clarity where I was. I was laying on a rather hard mattress, with padded straps encasing my ankles and wrists. There was another strap across my legs, and another across my chest just below my breasts. There was a low humming sound, like an engine. I could taste something acrid on my tongue, like I'd thrown up and hadn't had anything to drink afterward. The smell of it hung thick in the air, clung to me, and clothes felt damp in places. Had I been sick?
I opened my eyes and saw a polished steel ledge above me. My eyes scanned the area, noting the narrowness of the room, yet more polished steel, and a few chairs with harnesses on them. Then, my eyes fell upon Kurt. He was looking at me with deep concern, crouched next to the bed.
"Kurt," I rasped, my throat was dry, burning, and I was desperately thirsty. "What happened?"
Relief passed over his face, fleeting, and then he schooled his expression to one of calm. "I am not sure." He said. "Do you remember what happened?"
I frowned, trying to think of the last thing I remembered. I recalled someone knocking on my door, and answering it, but beyond that I couldn't remember a damn thing. I shook my head and winced, for it caused a surprising amount of pain. "No." I said. "Thirsty."
He disappeared and came back a few moments later with a glass of water. He held my head up, putting the glass to my lips and I drank greedily. The cool water tasted so good that I whimpered when he took the glass away. "Not too much, or you will make yourself sick again." He said.
"Why am I restrained?" I asked, wiggling my arm feebly. I was pleased when it didn't hurt that much.
"You were not yourself." He said. Quickly, he outlined what had happened. I noted the scratch marks on his arm, some were rather deep, and there was a set of bite marks on his right forearm that I'm sure I was responsible for.
"Oh Kurt – I'm so sorry-"
He waved a three fingered hand at me. "Do not apologize." He smiled at me, and it left me momentarily dazzled. It was like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Sudden, tantalizing, warm. "I do not believe you were responsible for those actions."
I sighed then, and said "Well, I still feel bad about it." I tried to shift, but the restraints held me fast. "Can you let me go please?"
He deftly unbuckled me from the restraints, and I took a deep breath of relief. "Where are we now?" I asked.
"The Blackbird." He said. "It is a jet, a private jet apparently. One that I believe I could pilot myself, if Logan would let me." He looked around. "It seems very familiar."
"I'm not letting you anywhere near these controls Fuzzy." I heard Logan's voice come. "Not until you've gotten all of your memory back."
I wanted to sit up and get a better look around. Experimentally, I tried to move on my own, and pain exploded through me. It was like someone had dipped me into acid from my crown to my toes, and I gasped from it, my breath drawn sharp and tight. "Please, don't move around." Kurt said. "I fear you may be injured."
"We're almost there." Logan said.
"Almost where?" I asked.
"Xavier's." Came the cryptic response. I looked at Kurt, and he shrugged. "You'll be safe there."
"Safe." I said. I hadn't even known that I was in danger!
We were silent for the remainder of the flight. I gradually began to feel better, and managed to sit up on my own despite Kurt's protests. He handed me the glass of water, and I held it with shaking hands as the strength slowly began to return to my limbs.
There was a ball of tension sitting in my belly, and it was gradually growing larger as we approached our final destination. What awaited me there? More importantly, what awaited Kurt? Was I sure I was with the good guys, and not the bad ones? Doubt gnawed at me, and slowly grew into fear. As we began our final descent, I found myself wondering if I was going from the pan and into the fire.
We seemed to slow to a stop in midair, and then drift slowly downward. I've heard of planes that could do that, but I'd never been in one and it was a rather odd sensation. The was barely a bump as the Blackbird's tires set down on solid ground. Logan powered down the engines, just as the rear hatch was opening to let us disembark.
Kurt helped me to my shaky feet, just as a young man with sandy brown hair and red sunglasses bustled into the cabin. "Logan! Just what the hell did you think you were-" he stopped short when he saw Kurt and I. His mouth worked silently for a moment. "Kurt!" he exclaimed. "Thank God your alright!"
"Thank you, ah-" Kurt paused.
"Scott." Logan supplied as he brushed past us. "C'mon. Let's get you guys into the infirmary."
Scott looked at Logan, and then back to Kurt. "What's going on?" He asked softly.
"Fuzzy here can't remember a damn thing." Logan said. He produced the butt of a cigar and clamped it between his teeth. I was beginning to think he couldn't function without one. "And the girl? I'll let them tell that." He said. I leaned heavily against Kurt, acutely aware that I must look and smell horrible, and then I realized that once again my illusion was gone. Was my control really that bad? I thought briefly about putting it back into place, and then decided to just forget it. It was one less thing for me to worry about.
I took a few stumbling steps before Kurt finally hissed in irritation and scooped me up into his arms. I squeaked, surprised, and he chuckled as I threw my arms around his neck, eyes wide. "Relax." He said. "I won't drop you."
"Sure, you say that now." I said. "But what happens when your arms get to tired to hold me?"
"Then I shall carry you by sheer force of will alone." He said softly. Funny thing was, I believed him. He carried me as if I weighed nothing at all. We walked down the ramp, and into the hanger, which was rather large. I tried to look around, but felt my eyelids getting heavy. Was I really that tired? I sighed, and without thinking rested my head against Kurt's shoulder. I could look around later.
I snuggled into his arms like a child, and closed my eyes. My fingers curled into the fringe of his hair, and I found myself playing with the curls as he carried me. I could hear his pulse, the rhythm of his heartbeat. It seemed like home to me, and I let it lull me into a half sleep.
I murmured in sleepy protest when he set me down, my arms still firmly wrapped around his neck. He chuckled, a deep throaty rumble. "Morgan, let me go." He said gently. I sighed and with great reluctance released him and cracked my eyes open.
I was sitting on a hospital gurney, in a room that looked like a cross between a hospital ER and some sort of experimental research facility. I couldn't even begin to think of what half of the machines in there did. There was a tall, beautiful red headed woman standing nearby, and a handsome bald man in a wheelchair. "Welcome home Kurt." The bald man said. His voice was just slightly accented, the kind that comes from high society, and old money. "We were very worried."
"Ah, thank you, um" Kurt paused, and frowned.
"Professor Charles Xavier." Logan supplied. He was leaning against the doorframe, cigar still clamped in his teeth. He looked a lot better when he wasn't pretending to be a chimney. "Kurt has partial amnesia Chuck." He said.
The Professor nodded. "Yes, yes that makes sense. And welcome to you Morgan. I hope that you find your stay with us to be a pleasant one."
I shifted. "How did you know my name?" I hadn't been out of it enough to have had someone say it and not hear it, had I?
The professor pressed a finger to his temple. "We all have our gifts here."
"A telepath." I said, and he nodded. "Well, I hope you don't make a habit of rummaging around unnecessarily."
"Not any more than I have to." He smiled. "I respect a persons right to privacy."
"Good to know." I said.
"Hello," The red head said. "My name is Jean. I'd like to examine you, if you don't mind." She stepped forward with hand extended, and I shook it. My alabaster skin made her normal human paleness look tan.
"You're a doctor, I assume?" I asked, and she laughed.
"Yes. I am. I'd like to take a look at both of you, if you don't mind. Kurt?" she turned to him, and he simply nodded. She gave me a cursory examination, then pronounced me in good health. "Still, I'd like to run some psychological tests, if you don't mind. For the memory loss, and sudden change in behavior."
I shrugged. "I already believe it's a similar phenomenon as what happened to Kurt. She must have used a bigger whammy on him though, because other than that one moment, I pretty much remember everything else."
"Logan, can you show her to the guests rooms? I'm sure she'd like to get cleaned up-" Xavier began to say, but at a panicked glance from Kurt, I interrupted him.
"I'm sorry Professor Xavier, but I'd really like to stay with Kurt." I said. "So far, you haven't tried to harm us, but that doesn't mean that your entirely friendly as of yet." I was being honest, but I felt it better to get it out into the open. "You'll understand if I'm a little paranoid."
"Of course." Professor Xavier said. "You may remain, if you wish."
Kurt gave me a grateful smile, and I found myself smiling back. Jean examined him carefully, raising an eyebrow at the scratches. "My fault." I said. "Apparently, I went a bit out of my mind. Kurt had to hold me back to keep me from hurting him, or Logan."
Logan snorted. "Kid, I don't think you'd want to try to hurt me." I remembered the claws, and the ease in which he'd thrown Kurt, and nodded. The man oozed danger and a 'don't fuck with me' attitude that I didn't really want to come up against.
"Well, they don't look to bad." She said. "They should heal up on their own, and I doubt there will be much of a scar. Still, we should keep them covered so they don't get infected." She cleaned them thoroughly, then smeared some greasy looking salve onto them before bandaging them up. Kurt's arms were bandaged from wrist to elbow on both arms.
"Kurt, I'll give you both a chance to get cleaned up, and I would very much like it if you joined me for dinner." Professor Xavier said. "You too Logan. We are best to discuss this as a group. Logan, if you wouldn't mind showing Kurt back to his room? And perhaps we can get Ms Flannigan a room nearby..." the Professor wheeled himself out in his electric chair.
"Sure thing Chuck," Logan said to the departing man's back. "Well, you heard the man. Follow me."
I stood on shaky legs, taking a few experimental steps to see if I was up to walking. Kurt was at my side in an instant, but I shooed him away. Being carried was all well and good, but I wasn't going to let him hold me up in the shower! It seemed I was able to work under my own steam for the time being,
We followed Logan through a maze of windowless tunnels, to an elevator. It was a short trip up, and then the door slid open. I felt my jaw drop at what I saw.
My first assumption of old money had been dead on. As he led us through what I can only describe as a mansion, I suddenly felt very, very poor. The place positively screamed old American wealth. I could easily see the Vanderbilt's or the Rockefellers getting comfortable here.
He led us down a hallway, and into an entryway with a rather grand staircase. Up the stairs we went, and down another hall to a doorway. This too let out into a set of stairs, and we found ourselves going even farther up. Down the hall in the opposite direction, to another staircase. This led to an extremely narrow hallway. "Servants quarters?" I asked.
"Used to be." Logan said. "Now, it's just bedrooms. They've been enlarged, had bathrooms added. Besides, it was the only place we could fit Kurt's jungle gym."
"Jungle gym?" I questioned, just as we reached a doorway. "Here you are." Logan said, and he opened the door.
Kurt stepped in, and I followed him, looking around curiously. It wasn't at all what I was expecting. It seemed to be a standard bedroom, rather tastefully decorated. There were two circus posters, framed, both depicting "Das Unglaubliche Nightcrawler" in German, and then "The Incredible Nightcrawler" in English. I found it odd that Nightcrawler was the same in English and German. Either way, it was clearly Kurt, diving through the air from a trapeze. He looked extra devilish, and almost frightening in his expression.
He walked up to the posters, and smiled. "Now this I remember." He said. "The spotlight was the only place I could truly be myself..." his eyes traveled upward, and his smile broadened. "Aha. Jungle gym."
I looked up to see that his room had no ceiling. Or rather, the ceiling had been taken out and extended up to the very rafters. In a space that I was sure used to be an attic was now an elaborate tangle of pipes. Kurt immediately bamfed up into the center of the mess, perching on one of the bars. His toes gripped it surely as he crouched there, arms resting easily on his thighs. "I must live here." He said. "For this does feel like home."
I smiled and felt myself relax a bit. He seemed right at home here, there was no doubt in my mind that this place had been made for him. "Well," I said uncertainly.
"Go." Kurt said, and he swung upside down, hanging from the bar by two feet and his tail, which had coiled tightly around it. Even upside down, he still looked crouched, still rested his arms on his thighs. I was beginning to understand how all that muscle tone had come to be. It didn't even appear to be straining him at all. "Go, get cleaned up. I will be here. Then, we may have dinner with the Professor, and hopefully some things will begin to come clear."
I hesitated. I really did want a shower-desperately!- but I was also concerned about him. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine." He said, and made a shooing motion at me with his hands. I sighed, and followed Logan out the door.
Logan led me a few doors down, and opened the door. It was a simple room, with a full size bed, a dresser, a small desk, and two doors, one of which I guessed was a closet, and the other a bathroom. 'Here ya go. This should do for now. As far as I know it's unoccupied."
"Thank you Logan." I said. Then, I remembered I had nothing to wear. "Um,"
"I'll see if Jean can't scrounge up something for you to wear." He looked me up and down, but not in a lewd way. More like he was trying to size me up. "I'm sure between all the women here we can find something for you."
I was touched that he'd thought of it. It showed a depth of humanity I didn't think the man possessed. I cocked my head and looked at him, I mean, really looked at him. Beneath that gruff exterior, I was willing to bet, was a very very big heart. I had no doubt that the man had an astounding capacity for violence, but it also struck me that he had a sense of honor. He reminded me of a marine who had been a friend of my fathers; all hard and rigid on the outside, but on the inside, if you stroked him just right, you could almost make him cry.
"Logan," I said, "If I wasn't covered in my own vomit, I'd hug you."
Much to my surprise, he laughed. "Yeah well, I don't want the smell clinging to me all day." He said. "Get cleaned up. I promise there'll be something here for you to wear when you get out."
He left me then, and I didn't hesitate. I peeled off the disgusting clothing I was wearing, fighting the urge not to throw up again. I left them in a heap on the bedroom floor and checked the doorway on the right wall. Lucky me, it was a bathroom. It was a bit larger than I had anticipated, and held a toilet, sink with a mirrored cabinet above it, and a rather large bathtub. It was completely tiled in white, and there was a blue rug on the floor in front of the tub. Clean towels were hanging from the towel rack that was bolted to the wall. Thick, white and long. I'd get to those later.
On the counter of the sink was a small basket with shampoo, body wash, conditioner, a loofa, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss, pretty much everything a girl could need short of a kitchen sink. I wondered how it had gotten here so fast, and for that matter how Logan had known which room to take me too. Then I remembered that the professor was a telepath, and probably had all of this set up the moment he'd first laid eyes on me.
There was a white terrycloth robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door, so I wouldn't have to parade around in towels until my clothing arrived. I guess the really did think of everything.
I fumbled with the faucet until I got it to the appropriate heat, the transferred the stuff I'd need in the shower onto a shelf inside of it. Then, I stepped in and let the hot water take me away. I scrubbed and scrubbed at me skin until it felt raw, convinced I would never get the smell off, then washed my hair twice. Finally I felt human enough (hell, I even shaved!) to exit the shower and get dry.
I wrapped my hair up in a towel and dried off with the other one, then slipped on the robe. In the bedroom, someone had laid out a pair of blue jeans, a black baby doll T-shirt, and much to my surprise, a matching bra and panty set with the tags still on. Simple white cotton, but they were my size so I felt no qualms about it. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and let myself fall backwards. I laid there for a few moments with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I just wanted to rest for a few moments, and then get dressed.
A knock sounded at my door, and I groaned. My back was a tangle of knots, and my legs were tingly. Had I fallen asleep? I must have, because it had become noticeably more dim in the room. I stood, pins and needles already beginning in my feet. "fraulien?" Came a familiar voice. "Morgan? May I come in?"
"Come in Kurt." I said, and wiggled my legs, trying to get more feeling into them. I unbound my hair from the towel as the door cracked open and he stepped in.
"You are just getting out of the shower?" He asked, surprised, and I laughed.
"No, I fell asleep I think." I said. I stretched, and winced. "I must be more tired than I thought."
"Ah." He said. "Well, I was thinking we could go down to dinner together," he said, almost shyly.
"Sure, just let me throw these clothes on." I bent over to pick up the clothes off the bed, and he made a choked sound. I realized that my robe had gaped open and given him rather an eyeful. I looked up at him, and he was resolutely looking in another direction. I couldn't be sure, but I think he might actually have been blushing.
A wicked urge filled me then. I am, after all, a woman. As a general rule, I don't consider myself to be a tease, but sometimes it's hard not to be. Kurt had quite obviously enjoyed the brief peek at my flesh he had gotten, and honestly I hadn't minded him seeing it.
I ripped the tag off the undies, and slipped them over my feet, wiggling the white cotton up my legs, flashing a more than generous expanse of thigh at Kurt. He glanced my way as if he couldn't help himself. "I should wait outside-" he said. "No, then we can't talk!" I said. Of course, that forced me to find something to talk about. "So, did you do anything after your shower?"
"I went through my drawers," he said, "Trying to find something that looked familiar." As he spoke, I took the jeans and slid them on. "There were a few things that jogged my memory, but-"he stopped short as I turned my back on him and dropped the robe to the ground. I retrieved my bra and slipped it on, then picked up the T-shirt and turned back to him.
"But?" I asked, as I slid the black fabric over my head.
"I, ah" he stammered. Then, in an abrupt puff of black smoke, he was gone.
Damn.
I'd messed up. I knew it the moment he vanished. What had I been thinking? Kurt probably wasn't used to being teased, because most woman wouldn't be able to get past the whole devil thing. But I didn't see that, I just saw Kurt. Funny, smart, irresistible Kurt. Then, I recalled how he'd caught me looking at him, and remembered the illusion, and felt even more horrible.
I didn't bother to brush my hair. I just pulled it back into a pony tail with a holder I found in the basket, and went looking for him. I didn't have any shoes either, but chances are I wouldn't' come to a place in the house that I needed them.
The first place I checked was his bedroom. He wasn't there. I wasn't familiar enough with the house to go wandering about opening doors and snooping into things, and I was willing to bet that Kurt didn't remember enough either. I tried to think for a moment, if I were him, where would I go that I could be sure no one would bother me, and I wouldn't bother anyone else. The only place I could think of was the roof, as it seemed to be the hardest place to get to.
So how the hell did I get up there? I sighed, and walked down the hall, spying a door at the very end. I knocked, and when no one answered, turned the knob. It opened up to a rather narrow flight of stairs, slightly dusty with disuse. I walked up the stairs, fumbling for a light switch, and found myself in the attic. Amazingly enough, it was empty. Though the top floor didn't seem to be as dusty as the stairs. In fact, in one dim corner I spotted and old crate, a flashlight, and two or three bean bag chairs. Strange, but I decided to let it go.
I wandered the length of the attic, inspecting the ceiling for some kind of hatch. Luck was with me, because I found exactly what I was looking for. I popped the hatch, and clambered out onto the roof. It was indeed dark outside, and stars spangled the sky like someone had dropped a bag of glitter on a velvet blanket. I'd never seen so many stars, and for a moment, I just stared at the sheer beauty of it. There was a large, dark void in one spot, and I knew it was the moon. It was new; not a sliver of white was showing, but it still managed to displace a great deal of stars.
I sighed, and looked around the roof. It rose and fell, it's shingled self a bit more angled than I felt would be safe to walk on. I'd already committed myself to finding Kurt though, so I crawled out, staying low and trying to keep as close to the side as possible. My logic was the closer to the ground I was, the less likely I was to fall.
I crawled up to the peak of this particular part of the roof, and looked around. Luck was with me, because Kurt was on this very length of roof, perched like a gargoyle right on the edge. I scooted down a bit, realizing I was making a good deal of noise in the process. His tail lashed, and he half turned to face me.
"Please, Kurt," I said, "Don't go."
He turned away, and I could practically see the tension in his body. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.
"To apologize." I said. I managed to maneuver myself behind him. I sat, legs tucked underneath me, spine hunched and hands just barely off the surface of the roof. I made the mistake of looking down, and then snapped my eyes forward. What a time to find out I was afraid of heights. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"
"Nein, you have nothing to apologize for." Kurt said. "I acted a fool, and escaped. I was-" he stopped, and shifted.
"Kurt, I know very well what you were doing." I said. "Which is why I was doing what I was doing." I took a deep breath. "It's rare that a man looks at me that way, and sometimes, I can't see to help myself. I'm very sorry. It didn't occur to me that-" I paused.
"What?" he said softly.
"That you may not be used to a woman doing that." I finished.
For a moment, he stared at me. Then he grinned, and turned to face me. "Morgan," he said, "I am used to that, and more." He said. "No, it was not your teasing that chased me out of the room."
I was confused, and a bit upset that I'd climbed out onto this roof apparently for nothing. I sat up a bit more, and planted my fists on my hips. "Well then why-"
Something shifted beneath me, and much to my horror, I felt myself beginning to slide. I yelped, and threw myself in the opposite direction of the slide. My hands worked to grip something, anything, but every shingle I grabbed seemed to come unstuck from the roof. I was going to fall, and if it didn't kill me, it sure was going to hurt like hell.
Then Kurt was there. I felt his hand wrap itself around my wrist, and my descent downward halted. I grabbed his wrist with my free hand, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "Kurt, oh god."
"Be calm." He said. Then, he drew me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into his arms. I felt a sudden lurch, and the world spun. My stomach roiled, and I felt my tongue swell, as if I were going to be sick. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, we were standing in my bedroom. I felt my knees try to give way, and Kurt held me fast. "Stay still. Teleporting can make you ill." I looked around, and the room was spinning. I shut my eyes again, and swallowed.
"How can you stand that?" I asked. I could still feel the room moving even though we were standing still.
"You get used to it," he said. I could feel his breath on my ear, the brush of his arms against mine, and those sensations helped to bring my stomach back from the edge. I leaned into him, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. I placed my arms over his, my hands on his, my fingers sliding to merge with his. It was awkward at first, but I found a comfortable position.
Something snaked around my thigh, wrapping it's warm sinuous length around me. I felt the spaded tip of his tail brush against my calf. He shifted, and I heard him take a deep breath. I felt something soft brush against my neck, and realized it was his lips. I felt the fur of his cheek brush against my cheek, and it felt so much softer than then fur he had elsewhere. I shivered, feeling my body begin to respond to him, a warm rush of pleasure falling over me. My heart was racing, my breath was short, and all rational thought was slowly leaving me.
I felt his lips brush against my neck, and the barest flick of his tongue against my skin that drew a gasp from my lips. His mouth burned against my skin as it traveled up the length of my neck. He laid kisses along my jaw, and my head turned to meet him. There was nothing else that existed for me but him, the feel of his arms, the smell of him, the touch of his lips. I ached for him, a pain so deliciously wonderful that I both wanted it to end, and wanted it to continue forever.
My door banged open, and Kurt was gone in a swirl of black smoke.