The ice was beginning to burn the pads of her fingers as she held the pack against her arm, but the skin of her elbow was comfortably numb. Anything was better than the throbbing pain that'd set in not more than an hour ago. She didn't know just how 'tweaked' her arm was until then—though, she kept it to herself, for Hudson's sake. Her eyes lingered on the frame of his face as he stood across the room, near a table, tugging a sweatshirt over his head to cover the markered-in lines on his skin.
What had they planned to do? Obviously, they meant to cut him open. But for what purpose? Were they going to do to him what they'd done to—what was his name? Wade? Cassandra's thoughts disappeared when the sound of a familiar grumble touched her ears like a hand through smoke, and she sat up a little straighter as Logan came to stand beside the table she sat perched on. "You know, that arm's gonna fall off if you hold that ice pack there any longer," he spoke neutrally, but there was a certain tired undertone to his voice.
"It hasn't been that long," she waved away the partially in jest comment with a small shake of her head. Then, she briefly flicked her eyes toward Hudson in a gesture. "You should go talk to him."
Logan sighed, gaze falling to the silver floor. After a moment, he lifted his eyes again, and the shift in them was stark. "And say what? 'Hey, son. Sorry I didn't know you existed.'? Not sure he's interested in stayin' in contact. Heard him tell Scott he's skippin' town."
Cassandra couldn't blame him for being hesitant. Unwilling, even. It was hard enough for him to reconnect with her in that way, someone he'd already bonded with, the child he'd watched grow up. But, a total stranger? Though, it was the end of his sentence that caught her attention. "What?" her eyes rounded.
"Yeah. Real loner type," Logan nodded, dry sarcasm aimed at himself. "Would've guessed we were related just for that."
It was then Cassandra surged off the table, teetering ever so slightly on her feet as she tossed the half-melted ice pack backward onto the metal surface, and shuffled quickly over the expanse of the room. There was a sense of urgency remaining in her chest, hanging around in the rafters of her rib cage like aged cobwebs too stubborn to dissolve on their own. She couldn't let him leave. Not yet.
Hudson heard the clank of the ice colliding with the metal table and his muscles tensed, holding him still as his head turned in a second. He exhaled heavily seeing Cassandra marching toward him. After all, he could hear every word spoken between her and Logan, and her intentions weren't exactly hidden in the gentle panic of her eyes. "You're leaving?" she questioned, as she came to stand before him.
Allowing his arms to relax at his sides, he nodded. "Soon as I can."
"Where will you go?"
"I was in a cage for thirty years—if it wasn't that one, it was another. I've got some people I need to find, figure out what happened to them."
Cassandra's throat tightened. "I could help you-"
"Why?" Hudson's features scrunched in vague irritation, interrupting her with a single word of unintended venom.
"I know we don't really know each other," she was quick to explain, collecting some of the frustration radiating off of him for herself. "But I'm your sister. I can't just let you walk out alone. We have resources here that can help you—access to information you can't find on the internet. I just thought I could at least help point you in the right direction."
His features slacked, though still soured, a somewhat relaxed version of the previous expression. She was right. They didn't know each other. Hudson didn't want a sister or a friend—he'd had a family of his own, parents that loved him. Anything else, anything less, felt like a kind of betrayal. Still, if she could truly show him where to find that family, he would be a fool to pass on it. "What kind of resources?" he questioned, raising a brow skeptically.
"We have a tech guy. His mutation helps him get into all kinds of computers. Without him, we wouldn't have been able to get into the Trask building," Cassandra answered. She exhaled, forced herself to calm. There was no real reason to be upset, she told herself. There could always be an opportunity in the future.
Hesitantly, Hudson nodded again. "Alright. I'll take the help. Then I'm gone."
"Okay. He's just down the hall."
Cassandra made a vague gesture with her hand as she took a step back, before turning on the heels of her boots to start toward the door. It was another bitter pill. Broken open and spilt on her tongue, drying her throat and threatening a cough. But she lead the way out of the infirmary and into the hall, Hudson not far behind her, quick to catch up with naturally longer strides. It was true that Takeshi wasn't far down the hall from them.
He still sat at the computer, going through the data retrieved from the Stark Industries hard drives. He'd taken breaks here and there—only to get a drink or use the bathroom—but there was too much to read. The information was enthralling. So encompassing he didn't hear the door open behind him, or the sound of his name, with his eyes practically glued to the screen in front of him. Cassandra stepped up beside his chair as she reached over the back and shoved her palm into the back of his head.
Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to wake him up. Takeshi jolted in his seat, whirling to see over his shoulder as his heart lurched into his throat, but he exhaled heavily as his eyes settled on Cassandra's face. A small smirk rested there, teasing the ease in the friendly attack. "Jesus, Cass. Strap a bell to your ankle, for god's sake," Takeshi breathed deeply, attempting to calm his nerves. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Must've been reading something good," Cassandra raised an eyebrow in question.
"Are you kidding? I feel like I'm watching a soap opera, but those bizarre and ridiculous twists just happen nonstop. This shit is literally insane."
Cassandra glanced at the screen, but settled her eyes on Takeshi's face. She didn't want to know anymore. There was so much in her head—Tony Stark and his horrible deeds didn't need more space than they already occupied. "Sorry to interrupt," she quipped dryly. "Got a minute for a google search?"
Intrigued, Takeshi perked up, sitting a little more upright. "Yeah, sure. What do you need?"
"Find out whatever he needs to know? It's important."
Takeshi's eyes shifted in a straight line toward Hudson, stood just inside the room and to the right of the door, barely in sight. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, raw muscle visible through every inch of sweatshirt. In all honesty, the sight was intimidating—and Hudson's naturally grumbled features didn't help ease his mind. "Uh…okay," he agreed slowly, hesitantly. "Who is he?"
"Hudson. We helped him out of the Trask building," Cassandra answered.
Takeshi felt a wave of sympathetic guilt, causing him to turn his chair to fully see Hudson. "Shit, man, I'm sorry. What do you need?"
Cassandra clapped her hand over Takeshi's shoulder and gave a squeeze in a gesture before stepping past his chair, heading for the door. As the door hissed open, Hudson's voice stopped her—the only thing that could in that moment. "That's it?"
The question was genuine. From what he'd seen of her so far, leaving now seemed uncharacteristic. She'd been so kind, caring, determined. It contradicted the coldness, the silence of her exit. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, mouth pulling thin in an expression. "I don't do goodbyes," she gave a shake of her head. Something in his chest twinged. Perhaps they were related? "I really hope you find whoever you're looking for."
She truly hoped he found what he needed to find, that every question was answered, and the information was kind as it revealed itself. Though, it was bittersweet. Would this be the last time she saw him? If he was so adamant in his disinterest toward her—and Logan—could that ever change? She'd been left by a brother so many times, it felt odd to finally be the one leaving.
But she left the room, disappearing into the hall with a heavy exhale as the door hissed shut behind her. The throbbing in her elbow was starting to return, bringing with it a new kind of fatigue when her mind caught up to her proclivities. She'd done it. She'd gone into the belly of the beast and helped empty it. Still, there was one thing she needed to know. One last fact to check before it could feel totally complete.
Cassandra walked somewhat quickly on her way to the danger room. She'd been slow to return to the expanse of crestfallen and weak faces—the sight a reminder of how much was lost, how much was endured. These people harbored in the mansion were treated like animals in a pound, locked in cages while they waited for someone to come and unlock the door, to let them go home. But that person never came.
How long had they been forced to undergo procedures? Cut open and sewn back together, poked and prodded at with needles, bits and pieces of them taken for the ungodly science practiced in the basement? It was the worst kind of guilt that ebbed its way to the bone before it could be stopped. Gut-wrenching and heartbreaking, yet still hopeful somehow. Because it was also a small reminder that, though they were imprisoned, they could be freed. It was possible to save them.
As she arrived at the danger room, the door hissing open upon her approach, she inhaled a deep breath. There was only one face she needed to find amongst the sea of tired features. Her eyes scanned either side of the crowd for Jasmine. After all, without her, no one would've been freed tonight at all. Cassandra took slow steps down the middle aisle, passing Storm, Rogue, Lori, Kitty, and Bobby as they all helped clean and dress wounds, take down names, and distribute clothes and blankets.
Then, halfway to the back wall, her eyes caught sight of Jasmine's youthful but aged features, a radiance to her Cassandra hadn't seen on her yet. Beside Jasmine stood a man much taller than her with inky black hair that curled around his ears, his skin washed pale with fatigue and malnourishment but still rich with warmth. It was Michael, she knew. She didn't want to interrupt their time together by cutting in, so she took a mental note of the way they held onto each other, the peace now come to Jasmine's face as she was finally in the arms of her beloved brother once more—and she turned away.
It was enough to know they'd found each other again to provide closure. She'd done what she set out to do, completed her original goal—and it left a conflicting combination of contentment and unrest within the walls of her chest cavity. The pain in her elbow was sharper now, unavoidable as she took steps back toward the door. Her thumb dug into the muscle above it in an attempt to soothe the limb despite the injury's persistence.
Drugs, she grumbled in thought. If only I'd taken some fucking drugs.
It felt wrong to complain about something so small in a room full of much bigger complaints than this—but, her arm did truly hurt now. As she reached the front of the room once more, a familiar voice called to her. "Cass," Scott approached from the right, only noticeable when she turned her head fully to look. "Are you okay?"
"It's just a sore elbow. I've felt worse," Cassandra shrugged, pausing her stride.
As he came to stand two feet from her, he glanced down at the hand still kneading at her arm. "I'll get you something for the pain."
"Don't," she shook her head. "They need it more."
"Cass, there's plenty to go around. You don't have to tough it out."
His head tilted as he looked down at her, half his expression obscured by the visor over his eyes, the single line of red being the only indication he could see from behind it at all. Though, she could tell it was meant to be a humored kind of admonishment by the way his lips curved. "Alright," she sighed.
"Looks like I beat you to it, glasses," Wanda appeared from behind Scott's right shoulder, stepping up beside him with enough space to avoid him entirely. She shot him a brief look of smug antagonism before turning her eyes to Cassandra. "I could see you rubbing that arm from across the room."
Wanda held out her hand then. A white pill contrasted with the crimson of her gloves, sticking out against her palm enough to notice almost immediately, and a corner of Cassandra's mouth tugged upward. "Aw, you were watching me?" she feigned a teasingly sweet tone as she reached out, carefully taking the pill from Wanda's hand.
"Why don't you go sit down for a while? You got knocked around a bit back there," Scott suggested, lips pulled thin, jaw set as only he knew of the involuntary eye roll brought on by Wanda's arrival.
Cassandra placed the medicine on her tongue and tipped her head back in a gesture before swallowing hard, forcing it down and into her system. But she returned to rubbing at her elbow as the sharp ache continued. "If you guys need help, you'll tell me?" she questioned him, skeptically rhetorical.
Scott nodded. "Scout's honor."
She huffed a chuckle as she tossed her eyes at the joke, turning to resume her trek toward the exit. To her surprise, Wanda fell into step with her unprompted—however, the company wasn't unwanted. Far from it. "How's your head?" Wanda asked her, as they passed through the silver doorway.
They entered the hallway to silence, the door hissing shut to seal them into the metal tube of passage. "Just tired," Cassandra answered, honestly. "I'll probably feel worse tomorrow, though."
"You should use your powers more. You'd injure yourself less," Wanda pointed out, loosely folding her arms across her torso. Cassandra looked to Wanda with a prepared response, the words laid out neatly in her mind like fresh linens, but her gaze followed the movement instinctively—and she could feel every inch of her tongue as it dried, sticking to her mouth as she attempted to move it.
Heat swelled within her gut in a gentle ebb just from a glance, forcing her to take a deep breath as she pried her eyes away, toward the wall at her left. "It's too draining to use it all the time," her voice was much lighter than she intended, full of air as she attempted to appear unbothered.
"That's disappointing," Wanda's mouth curved up into a small smirk, though unaware of Cassandra's troubles, tone teasing. "I was hoping to see you blow something up before we never see each other again…again."
"Well, I'm certainly not against blowing something."
Cassandra almost laughed at herself. The blurted sentence somehow still sounded intended, deliberately insinuative despite its slight rush. Her lungs felt heavy in her chest, unable to move as if they'd been filled with concrete, thoughts scattering themselves to the four winds of panic as she chanced a glance in Wanda's general direction. An eyebrow was raised on Wanda's forehead, her lips hung in a much more noticeable smirk.
The words felt like an invitation, permission to counter with an appropriate response. It was a call to allow her inner desires to come out and play with her behavior like a cat with its dinner. She stepped closer to Cassandra, their stride permanently paused in the middle of the hall now, and reached up a hand to gently trace the angle of her face with the pads of her fingers in a line toward her chin. The green of her eyes bore into Cassandra's blue in a suggestive swirl beneath half-lids.
Her left hand rested atop Cassandra's shoulder as she leaned in. "I'm sure we can find something," Wanda spoke quietly, so close, and her breath touched Cassandra's cheek in a warm blush that trailed to the pit of her stomach like liquor.
It would be morally wrong to give in, to participate—would it not? How could she reconcile being intimate with someone like Wanda, with the affiliations she kept? She wasn't wrong in saying people died the last time they spent time together. They were a deadly combination of bad decisions and it would be foolish to go into this expecting a different result. But there she was, hovering, lingering too near to ignore, and Cassandra's chest pulled at her. Though, it might've been something else.
Yes, we could, she wanted to reply, but her mouth was clamped shut. Wanda's finger dipped beneath her chin, ginger in nudging Cassandra, angling her face toward her. What would it really hurt to simply be? There was no one to harm in her apartment—at least, no one that didn't enjoy it. Cassandra exhaled then, a forced breath within the space between them, and she leaned in, both to her desires and to the woman beside her.
Their mouths met, parted and open and wanting. An insatiable heat rushed through Cassandra's veins in a jolt and she couldn't help but attempt to devour Wanda's lips. Wanda reciprocated the intention, her hands moving to grip Cassandra's shoulders as Cassandra's fingers greeted the skin of Wanda's cheekbones, and Wanda was quick to turn them. So close already, Wanda pushed, following as Cassandra's shoulder blades touched the silver wall of the hallway, and their kisses retained their lustful depth despite an increase in speed and frequency.
It was a small bliss to kiss her, to touch her—even still, Cassandra wanted more of her, craved her. Wanda's hands slid over the leather of Cassandra's suit, following the front of her torso to her chest. It was then that Cassandra allowed her lips to slip off of hers and pulled away enough to see Wanda's face. "Wanna go somewhere private?" she breathed heavily through the words, even her lungs unaware of just how oxygen deprived they'd become until they tasted it once again.
Wanda's eyes glimmered with lust, hands unmoving. "Do you have to ask?"
A delirious shade of amusement tugged up at the corners of Cassandra's mouth. Wanda caught her lips between her own as lavender enveloped them both, wrapping them up in electricity to whisk them away, saving the moment with only a second's delay. They reappeared within the walls of Cassandra's bedroom, her apartment in London untouched since she'd left to help Jasmine nights prior. The bed was still unmade, half-drunk and surely cold tea still waiting on the nightstand.
Though, none of it was truly noticed when they entered. Now they were alone, they could truly move, they could explore as they pleased without the fear of a prying eye. Light from an overcast sky flooded the windows as Wanda tossed her gloves aside, before her fingers grasped the zipper of Cassandra's suit, tugging greedily at the closure. Cassandra managed to remove the cape from Wanda's shoulders despite the exhilarated tremor in her hands, once again placed against the wall.
She reached to discard the headpiece of her costume next, the only item within reach—but an involuntary gasp escaped her as Wanda moved her kisses to the newly exposed skin of Cassandra's collar bones. Wanda's hands pulled at the leather, pushing it down Cassandra's arms to expose her bare chest, and Cassandra wriggled her arms out of the sleeves. The Scarlet Witch peppered kisses toward the curve of Cassandra's neck, where she suckled at the sensitive skin, as her hands once again came to grasp at Cassandra's chest—this time, unabashedly cupping both breasts with a vigor that erupted Cassandra's arms in bumps.
Wanda's thumbs rubbed over the erect nipples and the back of Cassandra's head tipped into the wall behind, eyes fluttering closed as a pulse began to beat within her core. It was a desire, a yearning she hadn't truly felt in so long. The occasional dream would offer enough of a distraction to keep her occupied—but this? It could never give her this. Wanda's hands continued at the zipper then, guiding it to its end at Cassandra's waist, and Cassandra haphazardly reached down to help force the thick material down her legs.
It caught on her boots, still secured to her feet. But Wanda didn't hesitate to kneel, fingers wasting no time working at the zippers. As Cassandra lifted her leg, Wanda tugged the shoe from each foot, her eyes aimed up through her lashes in a sight that twisted a knot in Cassandra's stomach. She would've wondered why Wanda didn't use her magic had she not realized how alluring the image of her on her knees truly was.
Once the boots were removed, she could pull off the suit the rest of the way and toss it aside. But as Wanda stood, Cassandra's hands went straight to Wanda's own garments, fueled by an enriched surge of pure lust. "Take these off," Cassandra breathed, pushing down Wand's suit to reveal her full and supple breasts.
"I love it when you tell me what to do," Wanda smiled wickedly.
With a snap of her fingers, she'd been rendered totally bare, her clothing left on the floor with Cassandra's. Cassandra took steps forward, palms flat against the fronts of Wanda's shoulders, and Wanda took steps backward without protest. Their faces lingered less than an inch apart as they traveled the short distance to the end of the bed. The backs of Wanda's knees reached the frame and Cassandra pushed once more, forcing Wanda to sit atop the sheets.
Cassandra climbed atop Wanda's lap, their naked bodies colliding as she finally leaned down far enough for a kiss, cradling her lover's face. Wanda's fingers soaked in the warmth from the skin along Cassandra's sides as they fell, and fell, and fell until they reached the end, where they gripped tightly at Cassandra's ass. There was an ounce of disbelief that came with the waves of pleasure and desire that crashed over them both.
Was this actually going to happen? Had they reached this point? Though, every question was answered with reality as their hands traveled over each other's bodies, crashing through every wall as Wanda's back met the mattress. Cassandra's hand flailed vaguely to move aside the unruly blanket left a mess, haphazardly smoothing it over before bracing against the bed on her palms. She kissed down the front of Wanda's torso, tasting every inch she could access as she followed the skin.
She parted Wanda's legs with a hand on either rounded thigh to make room as she sank low enough to reach her hips. Cassandra situated herself in the newly opened space, lowering her front to the sheets as she kissed a line toward Wanda's inner thigh, treading deathly close to her most sensitive—and most in need—place. Wanda's muscles involuntarily clenched as Cassandra's breath fanned against her dripping core, the sensation eliciting a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan. "Cassandra," Wanda half encouraged, half chided. "Oh, please."
"Is this what you want?"
Cassandra trailed a finger through Wanda's folds, and Wanda hummed loudly to stifle a gasp. "Yes- fuck- please touch me," she hissed through clenched teeth.
It was then Cassandra licked a stripe through the center. A moan from somewhere deep within Wanda's chest ripped its way up her throat as her head dug backward into the mattress. She moved her legs further apart instinctively, making ample room for her as Cassandra began lapping and sucking at her core, and Wanda's fingers tangled themselves into the mess of blonde tresses atop Cassandra's head. Sounds began to escape Wanda that danced into Cassandra's ears like birdsong, speaking to the tight band in her gut directly.
It was a chorus of moans and soft gasps that soon turned to whimpers as she jutted her hips, grinding against Cassandra's tongue. Cassandra took the hint and inserted a finger, the introductory pace earning a sharp gasp that smoothed itself into a kind of moan she hadn't heard yet. "Yes, yes—more," Wanda whimpered, her fingers tightening in Cassandra's hair. The gentle sting at her scalp, Wanda's sounds of pleasure, the taste like honey on her tongue—every aspect wound Cassandra tighter.
A second finger inserted, she followed the movements of Wanda's hips, aligning with her body language as best as she could with the distraction before her. Wanda's face contorted with ecstasy. Sweat beading at her forehead. Her chest rising and falling with every fast and labored breath, jostling her gorgeous breasts. She was a wonder as she was falling apart. Cassandra could feel herself only getting wetter, becoming more aroused by the second, and she found herself craving Wanda's high as much as Wanda did.
Though, she wouldn't have to wait much longer. Cassandra's fingers pumped quickly, continuing to lap at the juices flowing from Wanda's core and sucking at her clit. With one more loud moan, Wanda reached her release, pure bliss washing over her as her warmth poured onto Cassandra's tongue. But Cassandra didn't stop until she'd virtually licked her clean, pushing Wanda through the high as she struggled for a breath. "Your turn," Wanda breathed, as Cassandra finally pulled away enough to sit upright, to take in the view of her spent and gloriously naked body.
Wanda pushed herself up to sit, only to pull at Cassandra's shoulders, pushing her onto her back as her legs slid off the end of the bed. "You're so fucking hot," Cassandra hissed, as her hands kneaded at Wanda's breasts above her.
"Open wide for me."
Cassandra didn't hesitate to ease her legs apart, and Wanda climbed off the bed, moving instead to her knees at the foot of the bed. She pushed at Cassandra's knees to force them away from each other further, the abrupt nudge like a sharp spike of heat through Cassandra's core as she pushed herself up in a sitting position. Seeing Wanda on her knees, feeling her hot lips against her inner thigh—it would've been enough to make a grown man quiver.
As Wanda moved closer to her intended target, she placed Cassandra's legs over her shoulders, and dipped her head down. The moment her mouth met the slickness of Cassandra's folds, Cassandra's chest tightened, a shiver causing her thighs to involuntarily shake. She was far too stimulated already to last very long, but Cassandra was determined to enjoy every morsel she was given. Wanda held to one of Cassandra's thighs and reached up with the other hand, grasping at Cassandra's left breast as she moved her tongue over the bundle of nerves between her folds.
Cassandra shuddered, fingers holding tight to the sheets at either side of her hips as her mouth fell open. Boisterous sounds of pleasure fulfilled spilled from her lips as the pit of her stomach filled with warmth and the tension in her gut began to wear thin as it pulled tighter with every touch. "That's it," she moaned out the words. "I'm so close. Fuck, Wanda."
Wanda spoke against Cassandra's skin, "Let me taste you."
Her words were almost as drunken as Cassandra's, still swirling from the extreme she hadn't quite settled down from. The sound of it was enough to coax her, her moans turned to a final, pleasure-driven shout—and every muscle flooded with relief as the band broke, unable to keep her upright, forcing her back against the bed as she struggled to stay there. Wanda returned the favor in cleaning her plate, licking up all that Cassandra had given her, before sitting back on her ankles.
"Fuck," Cassandra exhaled, running her hands over her face.
Wanda grinned deliriously. "Likewise."
She stood up from her place on the floor then and took steps toward the bathroom. Cassandra didn't bother fighting the urge as her eyes followed her there, taking their time to appreciate whatever view she could achieve. Though Wanda entered the bathroom alone, she left the door half open—a silent invitation inside? Cassandra's chest heaved as she pushed herself upright to sit, eyes stuck on the door, as the ecstasy started to settle into her body.
It was so tempting. Such an alluring idea. Suddenly, an incessant buzzing filled her ears, and her entire body lurched in a startle. She was quick to push herself up to her feet, teetering in a shuffle toward their discarded clothes. Secretly, she hoped it was a wrong number. Or, at least, something not important enough to take her away from this room. Cassandra thrust a hand into her right boot, easily retrieving her cell phone from the bottom—and her heart thudded in her chest. Darcy.
Reluctantly, she shoved her thumb into the answer button. "What is it now?" she questioned, sighing heavily at the interruption despite the bothered nerves upon seeing her name on the caller ID.
"It's Jane—she's missing."