She genuinely was exhausted and hungry and as it occurred to her, concerned by her lack of wearable clothing. It was only 6:30 pm but they had already coupled four times and she had defended herself from from a fifth, though how much longer she could do so with no clothing and a blanket barely wider than a bathtowel she did not know. Covering herself meant curling up with Sabretooth under their mean strip of wool, and that meant touching, and that so far had meant other things. In a way, though, worrying about mundane things like sleep, food, and clothing distracted her from bigger worries like what in the heavens she was doing with Sabretooth, and what she was ever going to tell people back home.

To her relief, he seemed momentarily sated, holding her tightly to his side while he lazed on his back. Her stomach gurgled, and for the first time in the evening, she fantasized about something other than his body. "Victor?"

"Mmm," he murmured with his eyes closed.

"I don't suppose you have anything to eat?" She looked around the room but saw only their clothes scattered about.

"There are some MREs in the first aid cabinet." She stared at him for a minute or two before realizing Sabretooth wasn't going to offer to retrieve one for her. Squelching her disappointment, she tried to rise only to be stopped by his tightening grip. "Hold on. I'll get it," he grumbled without moving. She pulled against him again. "Do you really want to eat right now?"

As her only reply was an impatient inhalation and exhalation, he begrudgingly sat up and clomped across the room to the cabinet. Perhaps he's only graceful when he's feeling gentlemanly. "Do you want red beans and rice, beef enchilada, or pork chop?" he asked.

"I get a choice?" she said playfully. "Beef enchilada, and a glass of merlot please."

He crossed the room, tossed the MRE on the bed and bent down to pick up her cup from the ground. "How about water?" She nodded, and he stole off to the bathroom to get her a refill. Ororo ripped open the packaging of the MRE and examined the contents, finding a metal heating canister among the items.
When Sabretooth returned, he set her water on the floor and unfurled himself on the bed returning to his semi-sleeping state almost immediately.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was irritated by this. I suppose I should not have expected too much. "Victor." She was greeted by a grunt. "I don't think the bed is the best place to eat this. It looks like we have to light a heating can and put it under the pouches. This should probably be done at the table, don't you think?"

"So now you wanted it heated?" he responded insolently. Her mouth dropped open in indignation. Apparently, as long as he was raging with lust he was able to put on a reasonable show, but once his desire was fulfilled he reverted to an ill-mannered lout. This time she decided not to hold her tongue. When she looked over to give him a small piece of her mind, though, she found that he was smiling. Fully smiling. It was a sight to see. And then it dawned on her.

"You're teasing me."

He didn't answer but reached up and pulled her close for another kiss. "I got some stuff. I don't know if you'll like it." He rose again, returned to the first aid cabinet, but this time came back with a basket and a bottle of wine. Placing them in front of her, he proceeded to describe the items in the basket. "There's cheese. I don't know what kind. And some caviar. I think it's from Russia. There are some crackers with black seeds and some others with white seeds, maybe sesame? I don't know. You can see. I don't need to tell you." Ororo excitedly dumped the contents on the bed, delighted with what she found. "Those little mesh bags have pears in 'em. I don't know why. Oh, and the wine isn't a merlot. It's white," he said apologetically. "I heard women like white wine better." She picked up the bottle; it was a 1921 French Chardonnay.

She didn't think she could swoon again, but she felt close. "Come here," she said to him, and barely waited until he slid into bed before she launched herself onto him. She didn't understand how any of this was possible, but she allowed herself to believe. Forgetting about the food, she covered him with kisses, wanting to go for round five even as her belly complained loudly.

Pulling her gently away, he said, "Go ahead. Eat your food."

She wasn't ready to unwrap herself from him just yet. "Will you join me?" He nodded. "Do you want to eat here or at the table?"

He shrugged. "Ladies choice." To which she responded by pressing herself against him and launching into another series of kisses.

Chuckling he suggested, "Why don't we eat at the table and you can sit on my lap?" She nodded into his cheek but didn't dislodge herself from him. In response, she felt his powerful arms tighten around her, lifting and sliding her off the bed. "What's that saying about the mountain and Mohammed?" he asked when had her in his arms, carrying her towards the table.

She looked at him curiously. "If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain?"

"Mm hmm."

She laughed and was rewarded with a half-smile. "This situation reminds you of that?"

"Yeah, if the mountain won't come to Mohammed, I have to carry Mohammed to the mountain and make her eat her food."

"That's quite a proverb," she said nuzzling his neck.

With that, he set her on the edge of the table, swept an admiring glance over her body, and went to the bed to collect the items Ororo had scattered. When he returned, he was also carrying his shirt and pants. "Put this on," he said handing her the shirt. She ignored it and pressed herself against him.

"I don't think I'll need it if I'm sitting on your lap."

"But I will. Put it on." She slipped it over her head and luxuriated in its well-worn softness and his ground in scent. For his part, he slipped his pants back on, providing another layer of prophylaxis to help them through their meal. He angled the chair at 45 degrees toward the table, sat down, and patted his right knee. She didn't make him wait.

Wearing his shirt made her think of several things, not least was the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she had worn a lover's clothing, but it also reminded her of her own destroyed clothing lying shredded on the floor. "Victor, I don't have anything but shoes to wear home tomorrow."

He curled his right arm behind her back as a support and regarded her current garb with satisfaction. "You can always wear my shirt." She supposed she could. Flying above the clouds, she could really wear whatever she liked, including nothing at all. It was the arrival at home that concerned her. What if there was someone in the yard below her window when she returned? What if, though unlikely, there was someone in her room? What if Logan caught a whiff of scent?

"If I go home while it's still dark..." she began before being cut off.

"You're worried he'll smell you." Sabretooth meant Logan, of course, and though Ororo did not want to start another argument, she also believed in the truth.

"Among my worries, that is one." She could see the animosity begin to grow, and put her hand on his cheek to stop it. "But I don't want anyone back at the house to find out. Just as, I imagine, you have hidden this...tryst from the members of the Brotherhood. Am I right?" Instead of answering, he stared in stony silence. I thought so. "Logan is the only one who would know by smell. I have other concerns when it comes to Jean and Professor Xavier."

A growl erupted from Sabretooth's chest, startling her. "I hate those mindfuckers."

She raised her eyebrows in disapproval and warning. "Those are my friends."

If she had thought he would back down, she was wrong. "I. hate. mindfuckers," he spat. "And you can warn 'em if they're such good friends of yours that if they ever try the shit they tried five months ago, they'll be damn sorry."

Ororo fell silent, focused on the anger that had sprung up like a weed. She felt ambushed by his vitriol and resented it, resented that he'd say such things about Professor Xavier and Jean of all people, and resented that he had lobbed it like a grenade into their beautiful moment. "Victor," she managed finally, her voice tight with bitterness. "They were trying to help you." She folded her arms to control the desire to clench her fists. "You even hate people who want to help you."

"Those fuckers don't want to help anyone. They get their jollies messing with people's heads. Maybe they have you fooled, but not me."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing they're far more powerful than you," Ororo said coldly. "You'll never get close enough to do anything."

"Everyone has to sleep sometime."

She couldn't stand it. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she could hear her blood pumping in her ears. Standing up and walking stiffly towards the window, she said, "You're unbelievable. Really." Her thoughts were running through her head at the speed of light - He was so wonderful not five minutes ago. He's so dreadful. How could he touch me like that? What am I doing here? Jean was right. Logan was right. Oh Goddess, I wish I could rewind the clock five minutes. This is a dangerous, insane man. You are a fool. He went through so much trouble. You must get out, now - but underlying all of it was disappointment.

Controlling her expression, her movements, her breathing, she gathered up her shoes and socks. "I should go home," she said quietly.

"Wait," he said, jumping up. "You don't have to get so upset."

"I don't have to get so upset?" She shook her head. "We're about to sit down and enjoy these wonderful things that you brought, and then without provocation, you curse my friends and threaten to kill them. And you didn't think that would make me upset?"

"I said if they messed with me..."

She shook her head again.

"Why shouldn't I be pissed about what happened five months ago, all that diggin' in my brain? You didn't think it was bad for me to defend myself against those drug dealers. Why isn't it okay for me to defend against mindfuckers?"

"Could you please say 'telepaths'?"

"Telepaths."

The fact that he had a half-valid grievance was oddly disturbing to her. Nevertheless, it was only half-valid. "They weren't 'messing' with you; they were trying to help you."

"And I said I don't believe that." His face was serious with far more intelligence than she would ever have expected. That too unnerved her. "Be careful of telepaths, Ororo. They're not what they seem." And what about sociopaths?

"Well you're wrong about Jean and Charles."

He sighed. "If I agree that I could be wrong. Will you agree that I could be right?"

"No."

He frowned for moment before a half-smile curved slowly up his face. "Stubborn woman." Cautiously, he approached her and put his arms around her. "Well, will you agree to disagree?"

He was trying to lighten the mood, but she wasn't ready for that yet. The subject had been opened, the moment had been spoiled, and there was something she needed to address, something that had been weighing on her. "You think you should be angry about what happened in the past. What about me? You tried to kill me."

He stopped breathing, his face frozen as if caught in lie. "And a couple of hours ago," she continued, "you tried to rape me. Maybe I should hate you."

Dropping his hands, he walked away from her. "That was different."

"Different?" she retorted incredulously.

"I...I said I was sorry." He was staring at the bed; she hoped the sight of her ruined garments made him feel ashamed.

"You apologized for trying to rape me. You didn't apologize for trying to kill me."

"I didn't apologize for tryin' to kill you because I didn't..."

Impatience saturated Ororo's voice. "You didn't what? You didn't want to kill me?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"You can do better than that, Victor. Answer the question."

Sabretooth was silent for a long time, so long Ororo thought he might have given up on the conversation. Finally losing her patience, she turned to go when he spoke up. "First I was sent to get the girl. That was the first time I saw you. You...distracted me. Later, I was sent to stop you, by any means necessary. Usually that means I kill the person. But when I saw you again, I thought I might... I might enjoy..." He exhaled tensely unable to finish the sentence.

"Raping me?"

He turned to face her. "Yes." His eyes were full of a turmoil she couldn't read, and he quickly looked to the floor. "I wanted to fuck you so bad. I didn't think about your powers or that the Runt was runnin' around up there. I just wanted to fuck you. I wanted to rip your clothes off, spread your legs, and shove my dick inside. That's all I could think about." His head rose with a sudden ferocious energy and he strode over to her. "You might not like what I do, but I'm good. I've never been given a mark I couldn't kill." He brought his face close to hers and for a moment, for a split second, she thought he was going to kill her. "Never."

Straightening himself, he paced away, back to the bed, and shook his head with bewilderment. "Then the next thing I knew, I was defeated by a bunch of weaklings 'cause I couldn't stop thinking about pussy. Your pussy."

She couldn't tell if he was angry at her for this. But if he was, it didn't explain the expensive wine and goose liver pate. If he just wanted to have her violently, it didn't explain why he had taken such care.

He turned back to her with a sad look, half smile and half frown.

"That's never happened to me before."