Sorry for being so late. Monday, November 28th, was my birthday. )
TIme is played with. This will be demarked as such.
None of these lovely characters are mine, unfortunately.
Moira...Charles...a table
You've been warned.
Mid 1962
Moira? Are you in here?
A soft sigh. Yes, Charles, I'm in here. Where else would I be? Moira could not help the peevish tone in her voice.
May I come in? Charles, thankfully, chose to ignore it.
Of course, Charles. Charles opened the laboratory's door and wheeled himself in. He was getting better at maneuvering himself around the mansion and as a result was developing a considerable amount of upper body strength. His mood and appearance would have startled anyone who had seen him only a year and a half ago.
Gone was the unknowingly privileged man, used to comfort and ease brought about by wealth and status; smug and arrogant. In its place was a humble man, grateful to be alive but yet unspeakably angry and bitter by the turn of events. Charles Xavier still exuded extreme amounts of influence – with or without telepathy; Charles now prone to sustained fits of anger and moodiness.
Everyone in the mansion knew when to stay away from the Professor when he was in one of his moods.
Everyone save Moira.
Moira was growing ever frustrated about the state of her relationship with Charles Xavier. At times Charles was very kind and loving towards her while other times, Charles was cold and indifferent. She was never entirely sure which Charles Xavier she woke up beside each morning until it was almost too late. Moira also noticed other things about Charles that she should have seen before: Moira knew how manipulative he could be at times; Moira just did not understand how manipulative he was. Another trait that may or may not have been there before Cuba was the sheer arrogance and ego. Moira suspected that Charles was arrogant, but she chose to blissfully ignore it. Her initial instincts were correct, Charles Xavier was a man used to getting certain things in his life – taking away control of something in his life only served to frustrate and anger the man. But probably the most damning thing in Moira's mind was how unobservant Charles was, which made Moira nearly apoplectic the first time she realized it. (How, for fuck's sake, could a man of Charles' obvious talents be so thick skulled sometimes?) Moira's case in point was his handling of his sister, Raven. Everyone around the mansion could see how much Raven (No, Mystique.) loved Charles. And Charles being Charles neveracknowledged it or discussed it with her.
Moira thought Charles deserved nothing less than an angry, bitter sister. But who was she really to judge?
Moira gathered her thoughts, trying very hard to a lock on her emotions; a decidedly difficult task to do around a very powerful telepath. Nevertheless, she made the effort. Moira leaned up against the lab counter with her back towards Charles. She was not ready for whatever he was going to tell her - not that she didn't already know the truth anyway. She berated herself for being so willing, so naïve, so foolish for falling for his charm. (But it was always so much more than charm, wasn't it MacTaggert?) Moira sighed and tried to collect her thoughts.
She turned around and took one look at the man and wondered why there had to be so many secrets between them. She knew that Charles cared for her; it was just that Erik Lehnsherr far out-paced her. Moira's composure slipped for a moment before she tired schooling her face into something neutral and knew she had not fooled the powerful telepath. (If ever.)
"You haven't been sleeping, my dear," Charles said softly looking at her worn and drawn face. He, of course, had heard everything running through her mind. While he tried hard not to read everyone's mind Charles could not help but hear a thought that was practically shouted at him. And Moira was shouting very loudly.
Moira made a non-committal sound and waved her hand. She was all of a sudden very, very tired and just wanted out – out of the room, out of the mansion, out of Charles Xavier's life. She sighed and rested her heavy head in her hand and waited for Charles to say whatever he was going to say to her. She pushed her glasses over her head and stared blearily at him, waving at him to start speaking. (I must look like hell, if he's being so nice to me.)
"I never did answer your question," he finally said quietly, he chose to ignore her last thought. His bright blue eyes pierced her soul and shattered her heart. Moira felt the tears begin to bubble inside of her. (I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.)
"You didn't need to," Moira said just as quietly. "The answer was always there staring at me in the face. I just chose to ignore it. The only question that needed to be answered is why did you bring me back here? Why seduce me when all you really needed is help getting the Institute up and running? You could have just asked me to do that without needing a substitute for Erik." Moira felt a surprised jolt come from Charles. "I would have still stayed even if you hadn't seduced me, Charles. Give me more credit than that." Moira closed her eyes feeling the tears finally slip out. (I will not cry. Damnit!) Moira knew that he would try to comfort her and in that brief moment, Moira hated him, just a little, for it.
"I'm sorry," was all Charles could say. He felt helpless to comfort her and dry her tears. He actually felt helpless about a great many things lately, if he were being truthful with himself.
"Me too." Moira wiped the tears and opened her eyes again to find Charles closer to her than he had been. "So, what do we do now?" Moira felt hollowed out, she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and looked everyone but in Charles' direction.
"I don't know, Moira. I honestly don't know," Charles said and took her hand giving her a chaste kiss, tasting the salt from her eyes.
"I refuse to play second fiddle, you know this," Moira said feeling her heart twist. That needling pinprick of want, desire and love began to sharpen in her belly. (Oh, Moira. Don't. Don't do it.)
"I know," Charles said simply. His hand still held her hand and she felt jolts of electricity travel up her spine as he brushed his thumb against her knuckles. Her breath caught in her throat. (Not again. Oh, please not again.) The tension was building all over again. Moira tried her damndest not to fall prey to her lust. It was just too damn easy to forget about what they were talking and to just fall into the path of sex.
"I'll have to move my things out of your room," Moira said her brain suddenly not functioning. She wanted to pull her hand out of Charles' hand and run out of the room. But this was too warm, too comforting and she badly needed, no wanted the comfort. "Are you in my head?" Moira finally whispered after several long and silent minutes. She was staring straight into his eyes and Charles, to his credit, never turned away from her.
"No," came the simple answer, his piercing blue eyes stared straight into Moira MacTaggert's soul. Charles' hand was warm, rough, and calloused – surprising coming from the Professor. (But it makes sense, if he wanted to keep his upper body in shape.) Moira could not control the thoughts flooding her mind. (Surely, Charles can hear the clear me? Oh, god. I don't want that!)
"Why are you doing this?" Moira asked her voice above a whisper. Charles' unoccupied hand was which was resting on her knee was now slowly caressing and inching up her leg. Again, those all too familiar jolts of wantneeddesirewashed over her again. She felt her head begin to swim. And as hard as she fought, Moira had already lost the battle.
And the worst part about it, Moira knew, was that Charles knew that she had lost.
"Because I do love you, no matter what you might think," Charles said and pulled her into his lap and kissing her possessively and hungrily. His arms locked her firmly into place on his lap as his hands slipped underneath her skirt. Moira moaned and tried to squirm away from Charles but he only held her tighter. His tongue demanded entrance into her mouth and Moira in her ever present need, could only oblige Charles as he dominated her mouth. Moira only moaned louder and squirmed more against Charles. She felt Charles' own need pressing into her and all coherent thoughts were swept out of her mind. His hands ripped off her panties and skirt and she practically convulsed with need when Charles' fingers slipped into her, working Moira into a further frenzy.
"Charles!" Moira said, her voice shaky with need. "Oh, god. Oh, please. Oh, please. Oh, please, Charles. Pleasepleaseplease, Charles." His fingers rubbed her clit slowly and then began increasing in speed.
"Please what, Moira?" Charles said roughly and shoved another finger into her. Moira screamed and arched her back only for Charles to pull her tighter to his chest. "Please what, Moira," he ground out again as she bucked her hips against his fingers. Moira was beginning to see stars as she fought to string together a coherent sentence.
"Please," Moira could only get so many words out before another wave of pleasure and pain hit her. Charles' mouth was on her neck. She could feel his hot, wet breath and it sent shivers throughout her body.
"Say it," Charles said, his thumb rubbing her and bringing another moan of desire. His own need was secondary to what he wanted Moira to feel. "Say it," Charles said pulling her hair and making her look into his eyes. Moira fell hard and fast into unfathomable blue, all thoughts of her lust swept momentarily aside as he forcedher to look at him. "Say it," Charles said again. "What do you want me to do to you?" His voice was thick with lust, demand and anger.
Moira's breath caught in her throat again. "Fuck me, Charles. Fuck me, hard," Moira finally whispered, equal parts aroused and frightened.
Charles nodded once and rubbed his thumb against her again, making her eyes roll back in her head as she moaned wantonly, riding the wave of her orgasm, her hips bucking forward in time to Charles' stroking fingers. Her breath came in short gasps and Moira fell limp into Charles' arms. He chuckled harshly. "Oh, we're not done, Moira. Not done at all." He wheeled the both of them to one of the massive desk and swept aside all of Moira's papers off the top and laid Moira down on top of it. Moira was still trembling from her orgasm and did nothing as Charles stripped the rest of her clothing off, running his hands over her body, pausing to pinch her already hard nipples. Moira shivered and moaned at Charles' touch.
"Charles," Moira finally said when she could catch her breath. She stared weakly at the ceiling wondering how she could have let this spiral so far out of her control.
"Hush," Charles replied, hastily shedding his clothes. He pushed her thighs apart and prepared to pull her back into his lap. Charles glanced once up at her, giving her a teasing lick. Moira moaned ever louder, her lust spiraling again. He gave her a salacious grin, equal parts dangerous and loving before he pulled her down and he thrust himself harshly into her.
"Oh, god!" Moira said withering around Charles' hard cock. Charles grunted smiling to himself, he loved making Moira senseless each and every time they made love (fucked). She hardly felt Charles' mind enter her own as he looped her feelings between the two of them, giving Charles more pleasure than he cared to admit. Moira began moving against Charles' body trying desperately to get more out of him; she threw her head back as she screamed once more. Charles wedged his hand between the two of them and brushed her clit, making her moan and shake even more. "Oh, god. Charles, harder! I need it – ugh – harder!"
"That's it, Moira. Give me more," Charles said his thrusting becoming more and more violent. He was angry – angry at himself for using Moira like this and angry at Erik Lehnsherr for reducing him to this state. Charles bit and suckled her neck as Moira ground herself harder and faster against Charles. His hands clenched her hips, bringing more bruises to the surface of her far too pale and delicate skin. "Fuck, Moira."
"Charles, Charles, Charles, oh god, Charles," Moira said over and over again. Her hands were clutching his sweat soaked hair.
"Ah! That's it. Harder, Moira. Harder," Charles commanded her. The loop between them was almost too much for Charles to bear. "Fuck, Moira. Fuck me harder. I want you to come hard. I want to come inside you. That's it. Oh, god," Charles said and finally screamed his release into her body and mind. Moira orgasmed a second time, harder than the first and she fell into a heap on Charles, eyes slipping shut. She dimly heard Charles chuckle weakly and caressed and back. (Oh, Moira. What are we going to do?)
Reviews are nice.