A/N: We now come to what I've referred to in earlier fics I've written as an "it" scene. If you can't figure out what "it" is, then you're too young to be reading this story. So avert your eyes, you naughty kids!


Disclaimer: I do not own Sabertooth or any of the X-Men characters in any universe that I'm aware of.

I'm not making one red cent from this story. I'm just havin' some fun.


An ordinary woman would have been too sore to walk; for Tessa, the only lingering discomfort was the sticky residue of Victor's semen. Tessa rose from her bed. Her pajama bottoms had taken some minor damage and hung loose from her hips. She held them in place with one hand, padded silently out the door and headed for the bathroom. She filled the tub, stripped out of her rumpled nightclothes, and stepped gingerly into the heated water. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, though not with a victim's frantic desire to remove all trace of an attacker. What happened last night, she wasn't sure what to call it. Both times before when Victor assaulted her he didn't hesitate to slash at her with his claws; yet last night when he held onto her he was very careful not to let his claws pierce her skin, even though he knew she would heal from any wounds she received. And after, he'd covered her up again; a consideration Tessa doubted he ever showed any of his victims. Compared to his earlier behavior, he'd been almost gentle.

Then he left. He walked out of the house before Tessa even had a chance to wrap her head around what happened. She didn't feel violated or used. If she had to pinpoint her emotions, she would say that she was confused. And frustrated. It didn't help that she was genuinely attracted to him. All one had to do was glance at the pictures of husbands past to see she was fond of large hairy men. More than once when she lay in her bed late at night she would fantasize about Victor. She wondered how he never smelled it on her. But then, she didn't fantasize during the day when they were in the same room together. Well, aside from an occasional fleeting thought. Victor certainly detected those and made sure to leer at her every time so she would know he was aware of it, much to her annoyance. But it was more than just his body; there was a wildness to him that drew her in, an almost magnetic pull felt deep within her core. When she knew him as a child her feelings were purely maternal in nature. Those benign feelings were long gone, yet the memory of them added to the strangeness of her predicament now.

Tessa lay back in the tub and closed her eyes. The night before kept playing through her mind, sensations and sounds that made her heartbeat quicken and her body tense. She wanted to confront Victor, but had no idea what she'd say to him. She wasn't mad or upset by what he did to her, though she had every right to be. Every time she tried to work up some righteous anger, however, all she could dwell on were the feel of his hands, his hard, desperate thrusts, and the low sound he uttered when he climaxed. Her mind would not let it go; it ran in a continuous loop through her thoughts. She squirmed in the bathtub. "Damn it," she muttered through gritted teeth. Her hand crept down between her legs. Her questing fingers found the source of her rising need. She stroked the hardened nub, letting the thoughts of Victor run through her mind. Her breathing quickened, a weak cry emerged from her mouth. She didn't come, but managed to ease the worst of the desire. Enough for her to reign in her thoughts and focus on finding where Victor had gone.

The dreaming forest's song was subdued. Nevertheless, it told her what she wanted to know. Victor was miles from the clearing, bulling his way through the drifts. He showed no signs of tiring and no inclination to return. Just like when he was a boy. Not a word, not a message. Just picked up and left.

When Tessa woke that morning all those lifetimes ago and found Jimmy's note, she knew he lied about he and his brother having a place to go. Still, she and Josiah had given the boys a choice. No matter how much it hurt, they had to respect their decision. Instead, Tessa watched over them as they traveled through the woods. Wherever they chose to make camp they always found plenty of dead wood for the fire. Whatever direction they chose the way was always clear. Only when they walked beyond the range of her hearing did Tessa finally break down and weep, knowing they were gone from her life forever. In the years that followed, she often wondered if she hadn't been wrong to let them go.

Her throat tightened as she witnessed Victor moving farther and farther from her. He obviously had no intention of coming back.

Tessa relaxed her body and let her consciousness fall into the music. Despite the deep cold that brought them to dormancy, the trees still responded to her will. She altered the song and sensed its echoes from a distance. It was a slow process, but she had time. The water in the tub cooled.


Victor trudged through the deep snow. He was severely underdressed, plus the boots he'd tried on back at the cabin proved too small, so his feet were bare. Exertion provided the heat he needed. That and anger. Not at what he'd done, but because he lost control. Feral though he was, Victor's actions were always within his control. When he killed, when he raped, when he used his claws to mutilate someone beyond recognition, it was because he wanted to do it. His will. But last night occurred because his control slipped away from him. His only hope was that once he took her the desire would finally leave him. If anything, it was now stronger than ever, a burning ember deep inside that couldn't be clawed out. He couldn't get her out of his head. He remembered with painful clarity her tightness, her muffled cries, the rising scent of arousal. That last hadn't really surprised him; many of the women Victor raped became aroused and even experienced orgasms. He'd always laughed at them for it, called them sluts, told them they wanted it. But he knew that wasn't so. It was just their bodies betraying them. It added to their humiliation, which he'd enjoyed as much as the physical act. Not this time, though. The realization of what he did to Tessa left him with a sick feeling like acid in his gut. He was powerless in the face of his need for her.

If she'd wanted him … but that was a useless thought. No one wanted him.

Victor was brought to a halt by a dense tangle of trees, their branches intertwined to create a natural barrier. He swerved aside to detour around it only to find the tangle extended for miles in either direction. Victor growled, his anger rising. This was Tessa's doing. For whatever reason she wasn't going to let him leave.

"Try and fucking stop me," he snarled. Victor plunged into the latest barrier, lashing out at the tangled limbs with his claws. The still winter day was filled with the sounds of splintering wood. Victor plowed his way through, but the deeper he went, the more dense the growth became until he could hardly move. The only clear path lay behind him, but Victor had no intention of turning around. He threw his weight against the barrier, felt it bow, heard the wood groan and creak. His feet skidded and he suddenly realized the trees were actually pushing back. The rage flared.

"Fuck you! You stupid goddamned cunt! Tree-hugging bitch!" Obscenities poured out of him. He struck out at random, no longer caring if he broke through. In his fury all he saw was red; all he thought about was rending and breaking whatever lay in his grasp. Branches snapped, trunks were scored by rows of deep cuts. Movement at the corner of his eye drew Victor's attention to a small group of deer frightened by his violent fury. Without conscious thought, Victor leapt after them, bounding on all fours like a panther. He fell upon an unfortunate straggler and heard the satisfying crack of a broken spine. Fangs and claws tore into the deer's flesh. Everything he couldn't bring himself to do to Tessa he did now. All the rage and guilt, agony and longing were taken out on the helpless creature's body. Blood and fleshy gobbets flew, an island of stark red against the field of snow. When Victor finally staggered back, covered head to toe in gore, there was nothing recognizable in the sorry mess of bone and bloody meat. Steam rose from the remains. Victor stared, his chest heaving with weary gasps. The blood which coated his body cooled rapidly in the winter air, as did the rage. He was still in turmoil, but at least he'd found a temporary release.

He became aware of a bleating sound. Victor followed it to another deer that hobbled painfully on three legs, its right foreleg slack and obviously broken. In its panicked haste to get away, its cloven hoof jammed in a hole concealed by the snow and the bone in its leg snapped. Victor approached the wounded animal. The deer bleated piteously and tried to limp away. The mutant easily caught up to it and broke its neck with a single hard twist. The limp body flopped to the snow.

Victor's nose and sensitive ears detected the presence of wolves, drawn by the scent of blood, yet understandably wary of the creature that had spilled it. Long gone were the days when predators saw him as easy meat. Victor knelt by the body and proceeded to butcher it with his claws, his movements methodical where before they were chaotic. He packed the meat he wanted in the deer's hide and left the rest to the scavengers.

The way ahead remained unchanged; a dark, forbidding mass of entangled branches. Victor felt a spark of his earlier anger, but knew it was pointless to fight. She would not let him leave. Not this time. The confrontation he'd tried to avoid seemed inevitable. Victor told himself it was frustration and not anxiety that made his heart speed up. With a low growl in his throat, he slung the makeshift sack over his shoulder and began to retrace his steps back to the cabin.


Tessa heard of the slaughter in the wood's song, yet was still unprepared for the sight of Victor as he entered the clearing. A primal vision, his face a mask of crimson. Blood clotted in his short hair, in the furry muttonchops on his face. The clothes he wore stuck wetly to his body, their original color no longer distinguishable. The snow in his wake was stained pink by his bare feet. He carried a large bundle made from the raw skin of one of the deer he killed earlier.

Tessa waited in the open doorway, the words she'd meant to say to him died in her throat. She hastily backed away as Victor stepped through the door and immediately went to the kitchen where he deposited the freshly butchered deer meat into the sink. He then turned and headed for the bathroom, shedding his bloody clothes as he went, letting them drop without pause. The bathroom door slammed behind him. Tessa stared at it dumbly for a long moment before she snapped out of her stupor and bent to gather the ruined clothes. A few smears were left on the floorboards, which she quickly cleaned up.

The sound of the filling tub drifted from the closed door. Tessa paced back and forth, her nervousness rising. She had no idea what to say to him. The words she'd spent so long rehearsing now sounded ridiculous to her. She eyed the bathroom door, dread and impatience warring within her.

Little did she know that Victor suffered much like her. He sat in a tub filled with pink-tinged water and abraded his skin with a coarse scrubbing brush. The soap Tessa had was the size of a brick and smelled of natural plant oils rather than that perfumed crap that burned Victor's nostrils. He managed to deplete the bar by over a third as he washed himself with far more thoroughness than even his gory state warranted. Despite the clouds of steam that surrounded him, he felt as if the winter had penetrated his bones. Pride would not allow him to admit the sensation was fear. Fear of the condemnation he was sure to see in Tessa's eyes once he stepped out of this bathroom. What other reason was there for her to insist on his return? When he raped her the night before he finally succeeded in obliterating whatever lingering kindness she felt towards him when he was a boy. Now she understood, just like he told her she would. He was an animal.

It was a hollow victory.

He drained the tub of tainted water, refilled it, and washed again. Finally, Victor drained the tub for the last time, stepped out and grabbed a towel. It carried her scent, like everything else. He dried off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Staring at the door, he knew there was no putting it off any longer. He reached out, turned the knob, and stepped out into the den.

Tessa wasn't there. Victor gawped stupidly. So certain was he of her presence that her unexpected absence made his mental gears slip. After a few seconds his mind processed the sight of clean clothes stacked on the back of the couch. He picked them up, let the towel drop to the floor, and got dressed.

He found Tessa in the kitchen rinsing off the venison and putting the washed cuts of meat on a large platter. There was a box of Glad freezer bags on the counter; Tessa planned to put most of the meat in those bags, then bury them outside in the snow. Nature's deep freeze.

Though she didn't turn her head, she was aware of Victor's presence behind her. "I thought we'd have some of this for dinner," she said.

It was too much. Victor stormed over and grabbed her shoulder, spinning the startled woman around to face him. His hand grabbed hold of her slender neck. Tessa's eyes were wide, her mouth open in alarm. Her body exuded a heady mix of fear and arousal. Victor could feel the rapid pulse in her neck. His claws longed to sink into the soft flesh, but he resisted. It enraged him, how weak he'd become that he couldn't bring himself to damage this frail. He leaned in close, fangs bared in a furious snarl. "Goddamn it, what's wrong with you? You're actin' like everything's okay."

She swallowed, throat flexing against his palm. "It's alright—"

"Nothing's alright!" Victor bellowed, hot breath gusting against the woman's face. He desperately wanted her to scream at him, to beg, to beat at him futilely with her weak fists, to call him a monster. He wanted her to be a victim, because it was familiar. He knew what to do with victims. He didn't know what to do with her.

Tessa's expression hardened. She forced herself to speak in a level tone. "Let go of me."

A low growl. Victor jerked his hand away from her neck and stalked back a couple of paces. Everything about his body language spoke of menace, except his eyes. Dark wells of pain and fearful longing. Tessa remembered seeing those emotions in his eyes as a boy. She hadn't known what to do for him then. She didn't know now. Thinking about the situation only made it worse. Time to put thought aside and let instinct guide her. Tessa started unbuttoning her shirt.

Once again Victor found himself staring idiotically. He managed to regain control of his voice after a couple of false starts. "The hell are you doin'?"

"I don't want you to mess up any more of my clothes." She smiled, let the shirt slip from her shoulders onto the kitchen floor. Slight as she was, Tessa seldom bothered to wear a bra. Her breasts were not unlike those of a girl just entering puberty, small and pointed, the nipples stiffened to pebble-hardness. The scent of her fear waned even as her arousal increased. Victor's nostrils flared. His growing erection strained against his pants. Tessa unzipped her jeans, slid them down her long legs, and stepped out of them. She now wore only a pair of panties the same shade of green as her intently staring eyes. Long and thin, narrow-hipped and small-chested, a youthful body with an ancient gaze. As she neared him Victor struggled with the conflicting urges to retreat or crush her to him. His body was so tense it seemed to make the air around him vibrate. The words he forced out emerged in a croak, "I don't know how to be gentle, frail."

Tessa brought her hand up to her mouth. Her teeth sank into the fleshy heel of her palm. The smell of blood mingled with the scent of her arousal. Victor moaned. Tessa held her hand up, palm facing Victor. He saw the red on her lips, saw the wounds left by her teeth slowly vanish. "There's nothing frail about me," she said.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Victor grabbed the slender woman in a crushing embrace. His mouth crashed into hers. He tasted her blood and saliva, plunged his tongue deep into her mouth and felt her own tongue swipe against the points of his fangs. A low rumble emanated from his chest. Tessa felt its vibration. Her sensitive nipples rubbed against the fabric of his sweatshirt. She moaned and ground against him, feeling the swell of his arousal against her lower belly.

The next few moments were a blur. Victor hoisted the woman into his arms and practically ran with her out into the den, lowering her onto the sleeping bag that served as his bed. He couldn't remember discarding his clothes. The next thing he knew he was naked and grinding himself against her only to encounter a barrier of green cotton. Victor growled and tore away her panties with a vicious yank, flinging them aside. Her smell was intoxicating. He brought the head of his cock to her entrance, felt the dampness of her sparse curls and knew she was as every bit as eager as him. As if to emphasize this Tessa grabbed his hips and pulled him towards her. Victor buried himself up to the hilt in her. A loud groan escaped him, echoed by the woman beneath him. God, she was so tight. He immediately began to thrust into her. Tessa's legs wrapped around his waist, her hips rose in time to his thrusts. Nails dug into the skin of his back hard enough to draw blood. Victor braced himself on his arms and fucked her hard and fast. The force of his thrusts made Tessa's body slide back and forth; only her tight hold on him kept her from slipping off the sleeping bag altogether. Her sharp cries spurred him on. All conscious thought had fled her. She was a mindless animal lost in overwhelming sensation. She could feel her climax approaching. Oh god, she could feel it. She was coming! Tessa threw her head back and howled. Victor let out a terrific roar, back arched and head upturned as if baying at the moon. Then both lovers collapsed in an exhausted heap, sweat dripping from their bodies.

Tessa felt Victor's hot breath against her neck. His heavy body weighed her down, trapping her in place until he chose to move. Tessa marveled at how she found this enjoyable rather than frightening. After a while Victor shifted against her. "Feel like my bones 've turned to Jell-O," he mumbled. Tessa giggled.

Victor licked the sweat from her neck, raised his head to meet her lips with his. The kiss was a soft caress against her mouth. Tessa moved her hand to stroke the fur of his cheek. When their mouths finally parted she said with a mischievous smile, "I thought you didn't know how to be gentle."

Victor bit her lower lip, tasting her blood. Tessa grinned. "That's more like it."

Victor chuckled; not the sardonic noise he usually made, but warm and genuine. He lightly kissed her chin. "I finally figured it out."

"What?" Tessa asked, nibbling his earlobe.

"You're totally crazy."

She laughed quietly. "How so?"

Victor kissed his way down her long neck, nipped at her collarbone. "Why else would this've happened? Nobody in her right mind woulda thrown herself at me like you did." He felt her body stiffen beneath him. He lifted his head to meet her gaze. Tessa's brow was furrowed.

"You really believe that."

Victor looked away, shrugged. "Either that or you're just desperate." He knew that was the wrong thing to say. He waited for her to get angry, shove him away from her. He never expected tears. He heard a sob and looked down at her in alarm.

Tessa covered her eyes with her hand. Her shoulders trembled. "I never should've let you go."

It took him a second to realize she was talking about the first time he left her, with Jimmy.

"Jimmy made out okay," he tried to reassure her, even though talking of his brother still hurt, "Turned out tougher than any of us thought he would."

Tessa pulled her hand away, smearing the tears. Her green eyes stared up at him in away that made his throat tighten. She cupped his face in her hands. "You were the one I always worried about, not James. Even when you lived with me and Josiah. You took so much onto yourself, put yourself through so much suffering so your brother wouldn't have to. It's no wonder you became so brutal."

Victor shook his head. "Make it sound heroic, the way you say it." He touched his forehead to hers. "I'm not some martyr, Tess. I did a lot of awful things 'cause I liked it. Killin' people for a living was the best job I ever had. The money was just gravy."

He finally called her by her name, and it was to tell her he was a hitman. A hitman who enjoyed his work. Is that what you'll go back to once spring arrives? Just pick up where you left off? Pretend your winter here with me was nothing more than a diversion? She didn't voice the questions that ran troubled her thoughts; she feared the answers he might give.

Victor started to lift himself off her. Tessa's arms tightened around him. "Where do you think you're going?"

He smiled. "I'm too heavy for you."

"I told you I'm not frail." She pulled him back down onto her. Victor didn't resist.

After a long moment of comfortable silence, he said, "Y'know, if I had stayed on, things'd be a lot more awkward right now."

Tessa laughed.