He's getting used to taking control now. She's been slipping more and more - at first she used to fight him on it and he only got to play pilot when she was sleeping or exhausted to the point of delirium, but now she's either too tired of resisting or she's gotten used to the idea that they might have to share. Getting her somewhat drunk usually helps.
Tonight should be easy, even. Ororo's always had a strikingly beautiful body. It's attracting the eyes of everyone here.
"Are you sure you don't want to remember this? I've always thought you had a lesbian side to you. You and Yukio and everything..."
She rolls the Scotch across her tongue again before letting it glide down her throat.
"Yukio was Yukio and I was curious." Not quite so bland and simple as that. But she's not going to let him know it, unless he's somehow gotten access to her memories too. Natasha. On the other hand, they both know she's seen his and she'll make it a point to rub that fact in.
She proceeds to do that with a vindictive smirk, though he might make her pay for it later. "I don't mind redheads, but I believe it's you that favors them more. Haven't heard anything about Cain since your burial, Thomas. Think he's moved on by now? Building his castles with someone else?" Like the other Cain did - is the unspoken finisher.
"Why should it matter to me? I'd rather he be happy than still mourning a dead man."
But oh, that's it. Once the Scotch is done, he doesn't waste time in moving her in for the kill. The redhead their attention is focused on is quite pleased to have someone so desirable paying her this attention, and knowing she's suddenly become the envied one in the bar, she flirts back, if slightly drunkenly and awkwardly. Meanwhile, Tom keeps chatting with Ororo. He doesn't want her to drift off and block this encounter out, but rather, keep her attention at it.
"You know, I'm not really inclined to make you forget this."
A forced casual shrug. "I don't know, Thomas. I would think you the type that would hate to be forgotten. Fallen into obscurity. Unlike your dear cousin and his quite grand memorial at the Institute. Everyone will remember he died a hero."
"You're not as strong as you think." An empty boast possibly, but a contest of will is what's happening here.
"Why would I bother to be remembered by the ignorant masses? It's not as if they're an especially intelligent lot." They're dripping sweet seductive phrases into the redhead's ear now. "They probably don't even know what Sean died for, and needless to say, the only reason that plane filled with innocent people went down was because he was on it..."
"They know that he died trying to protect innocents. His daughter knows that too, and at least his life wasn't utterly wasted."
Lips begin to nuzzle the redhead's ear and sink lower toward her neck as the woman closes her overly bright eyes. She's enjoying it.
Ororo wishes she could say the same. But she's got an overwhelming urge to bite hard, just to see if her body will obey and possibly to distract Tom in case it actually worked. But it doesn't.
"Right, after kicking god knows how many depowered children out of the mansion. You've grown far too accustomed to thinking of the two of us in black and white, Ororo. He's not saintly either." The neckplay is getting to be a bit much for the crowded bar, and they get up with the redhead, moving towards the door, but never breaking apart from her.
"Funny, I was thinking that this fine young lass would be doing that for me."
"What on earth do you get out of it?" But her attention jerks suddenly. "Goddess, do you actually feel this?" She honestly doesn't know, but if he does than he's infected her much more than she was aware of. The scotch and the smoke suddenly sear her throat as if it wants to come back up. Unclean. Goddess, I'm unclean.
"Please, if we're sharing a body it's not as if you're going to be the only one with access to the nerve endings. Stop bein so selfish." He's exaggerating, a bit. He can feel it all, slightly, but not nearly as much as living, not like being in his own body, not even enough to pleasure.
"I can feel that." He says smugly, as the woman they're taking with them has started running a hand down Ro's stomach and lower.
Her breath hitches. Her hand slaps and locks on Tom's wrist, while in the physical world it's her own hand closing around the redhead's. Squeezing both. Perhaps only hard enough to bruise the latter.
"I would think you'd want a man, Thomas." Blurry glimpse of her/him being straddled across a massive body. Pale skin and huge hands. Roaming. Touching. He/she moans in the memory and in the now, and she wants more than ever for him to die.
She's threatening his already tentative control. He forces her to relax her grip, smiles apologetically at the (now confused) redhead and leans back in for a kiss.
He can feel Ororo hating him. It's something he got used to in life and later, in death. Sometimes he'd relish it - right now it's just irritating him. "I didn't want this either, Ororo. It's not my christ-damned fault this is how your piece-of-shite brain ended up dealing with things."
"And if you've learned anything from those memories, you should know he was the only man I was ever with. So stop acting like I'm ashamed."
She blinks and it's his hand around her wrist while her chest is pressed against the redhead's, lips seeking and tasting the other's until they're stumbling through alleys and doors until they get to their destination.
The burn of arousal is lit and simmering, but that's Tom's. Not mine, she thinks.
But there's a mirror in this apartment, large and oddly placed at a tilt across the room. Showing red hair and white, but capturing a third - black - and the warmth inside the room begins to increase.
Sex in an bar restroom stall. He knows Ororo's hating this. Even he's finding this ridiculously distasteful. But he's enjoying putting her through this, if he's enjoying anything. She's been gradually pushing him further and further during their conversation and now he's happy to make her hate herself, hate him, go mad.
He knows speaking to her after this will be hell, but he's mad enough to try and break her. So they and the woman undress hastily, smearing hands across each other, licking and kissing and moaning.
"I really hope you're enjoying this as much as I am, Ororo. I really do."
I'm not. I'mnotI'mnotI'mnot- she gasps from the tongue tracing the line of her neck, causing gooseflesh down her skin.
Long fingers -hers and Tom's- teasing and rubbing up pale creamy legs, over curved feminine hips. Between soft thighs. It prompts a complete hitch of breath from the redhead caught in their attentions, so much that woman's legs start to tremble.
You are, aren't you? And it barely even occurs to him how wrong this is to do to her, how much he doesn't care if it is. The redhead moans in pleasure.
"You can admit it to me, it's not as if I've got anything to hide from you anymore." And that probably is what angers him most, even though that wasn't her fault, that she has such an arsenal against him. She knows everything about Cain, about Maeve, about Killebrew and Theresa. But where she has his mind he currently has her body. And he wishes he didn't feel this was necessary.
The redhead's legs finally give out and she slides to her knees in front of them. Eager hands slip up Ororo's short skirt, sliding it higher before lips descend to taste smooth skin.
Her mouth falls slack and eyes clouded with arousal is starting to register that helpless look now pinning Tom's in the mirror. It precedes those traitorous words escaping now.
"Please, Thomas..." Don't let me see. You promised-
He's going to strip everything she is down the way she has him already. And goddess, she deserves this. She couldn't save him, he never wanted saving, and this is the hell they both pay for utterly failing each other, isn't it?
Tonight should be easy, even. Ororo's always had a strikingly beautiful body. It's attracting the eyes of everyone here.
"Are you sure you don't want to remember this? I've always thought you had a lesbian side to you. You and Yukio and everything..."
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"Yukio was Yukio and I was curious." Not quite so bland and simple as that. But she's not going to let him know it, unless he's somehow gotten access to her memories too. Natasha. On the other hand, they both know she's seen his and she'll make it a point to rub that fact in.
She proceeds to do that with a vindictive smirk, though he might make her pay for it later. "I don't mind redheads, but I believe it's you that favors them more. Haven't heard anything about Cain since your burial, Thomas. Think he's moved on by now? Building his castles with someone else?" Like the other Cain did - is the unspoken finisher.
Yes, he might definitely make her pay.
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But oh, that's it. Once the Scotch is done, he doesn't waste time in moving her in for the kill. The redhead their attention is focused on is quite pleased to have someone so desirable paying her this attention, and knowing she's suddenly become the envied one in the bar, she flirts back, if slightly drunkenly and awkwardly. Meanwhile, Tom keeps chatting with Ororo. He doesn't want her to drift off and block this encounter out, but rather, keep her attention at it.
"You know, I'm not really inclined to make you forget this."
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"You're not as strong as you think." An empty boast possibly, but a contest of will is what's happening here.
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"This from the egoist extraordinaire, Ororo."
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Lips begin to nuzzle the redhead's ear and sink lower toward her neck as the woman closes her overly bright eyes. She's enjoying it.
Ororo wishes she could say the same. But she's got an overwhelming urge to bite hard, just to see if her body will obey and possibly to distract Tom in case it actually worked. But it doesn't.
"Go fuck yourself."
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"Funny, I was thinking that this fine young lass would be doing that for me."
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He's exaggerating, a bit. He can feel it all, slightly, but not nearly as much as living, not like being in his own body, not even enough to pleasure.
"I can feel that." He says smugly, as the woman they're taking with them has started running a hand down Ro's stomach and lower.
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"I would think you'd want a man, Thomas." Blurry glimpse of her/him being straddled across a massive body. Pale skin and huge hands. Roaming. Touching. He/she moans in the memory and in the now, and she wants more than ever for him to die.
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He can feel Ororo hating him. It's something he got used to in life and later, in death. Sometimes he'd relish it - right now it's just irritating him. "I didn't want this either, Ororo. It's not my christ-damned fault this is how your piece-of-shite brain ended up dealing with things."
"And if you've learned anything from those memories, you should know he was the only man I was ever with. So stop acting like I'm ashamed."
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The burn of arousal is lit and simmering, but that's Tom's. Not mine, she thinks.
But there's a mirror in this apartment, large and oddly placed at a tilt across the room. Showing red hair and white, but capturing a third - black - and the warmth inside the room begins to increase.
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He knows speaking to her after this will be hell, but he's mad enough to try and break her. So they and the woman undress hastily, smearing hands across each other, licking and kissing and moaning.
"I really hope you're enjoying this as much as I am, Ororo. I really do."
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Long fingers -hers and Tom's- teasing and rubbing up pale creamy legs, over curved feminine hips. Between soft thighs. It prompts a complete hitch of breath from the redhead caught in their attentions, so much that woman's legs start to tremble.
"Stadfaidh..."
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"You can admit it to me, it's not as if I've got anything to hide from you anymore." And that probably is what angers him most, even though that wasn't her fault, that she has such an arsenal against him. She knows everything about Cain, about Maeve, about Killebrew and Theresa. But where she has his mind he currently has her body. And he wishes he didn't feel this was necessary.
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Her mouth falls slack and eyes clouded with arousal is starting to register that helpless look now pinning Tom's in the mirror. It precedes those traitorous words escaping now.
"Please, Thomas..." Don't let me see. You promised-
He's going to strip everything she is down the way she has him already. And goddess, she deserves this. She couldn't save him, he never wanted saving, and this is the hell they both pay for utterly failing each other, isn't it?
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