Hellfire: Seven Deadly Sins Drabbles
Title: Hellfire: Seven Emma/Sebastian Drabbles. They're each named after a deadly sin!
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: Comicverse.
Characters: Emma Frost/Sebastian Shaw. Some brief reference to Emma/Scott.
Word Count: 7 Drabbles, 100 words each. I used the following prompts from X_Men100; Smile, Sex, Hands, Destruction, Deceit, Regret and Hair.
AN: This pairing has been obsessing me lately thanks to Pojypojy's gorgeous art, found Here.
Cross-posted to Whitequeencourt, Marvel_Fic, and X_Men100.
Pride
Emma runs her hands through his hair; pale-white tangled in strands of coal-black.
“Why do you insist on wearing this ridiculous bow?” she asks, smiling slyly.
He looks down at her, amused. “Why do you insisting on dressing like such a tramp?”
“Are you complaining?” Her sinful body presses against his, climbing him like ivy.
Sometimes he’s not sure if he wants to backhand her or fuck her. Possibly he’ll start with the backhanding. Knowing Emma, that’ll either put her in the mood or make her try to kill him.
Either option is equally amusing. He’s always liked a challenge.
Lust
Emma watches him with potential investors, trying not to laugh. All they see is a gentleman with a charming smile and gleaming dark eyes, pretending to be a bigot with an axe to grind against mutants.
When they’re gone, he pushes her against the glass windows in the darkened conference room of Shaw Industries, and fucks her while she’s staring down at the city below. It’s not really about sex.
He wants her for her telepathy, thinks it will gain him leverage with the Hellfire Club. She wants him because he’s nothing like Scott. Everything in his mind is bad.
Greed
“Why do you insist on fighting me in this, Emma?”
She digs her nails into his back. “Because I think you’re making a mistake. You’re too rash. You’re going to get us all killed.”
His fingers wrap around her neck, tight. “Maybe I should just kill you now.”
She shifts her form to diamond; glassy-hard and impenetrable. “You may certainly try.”
He throws his head back and laughs, then leans down to kiss her. “No. You’d like that too much.” She can feel the sinister intent of his mind in hers. Her body slowly returns to flesh, warm and yielding.
Wrath
When he first told her how Shaw Industries was funding the research and the prototypes for the Sentinel program, she thought he was joking.
“Sebastian, these machines are designed to kill us. Have you forgotten you’re a mutant, too?”
“My dear Emma, I forget nothing,” he said, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed. He reminded her of a general contemplating his next move, sending soldiers off to die. “Would you rather this technology be in the wrong hands?”
Emma perched on his desk, staring down at the schematics. “It’s just that I’m not convinced yours are any better, darling.”
Envy
He’s behind her, long-fingered hands sliding up her arms. Emma watches in the mirror as her eyes slide out of focus and soften.
“I know you hate this,” he murmurs, drawing her silken white robe off and tossing it to the floor.
“You don’t know anything, darling,” she purrs. She turns in his embrace and presses indolently against him, smiling. He’s not a handsome man, but that doesn’t matter. Darkness leaks from his mind like a poison, and it’s enough. His mouth brushes against her neck and she shivers.
One day she’ll make him pay for this, for her loyalty.
Sloth
Emma drapes herself indolently over the chair and watches as Sebastian orders one of the lower members to perform some menial task.
She knows there’s something very wrong with her, that she goes home at night and climbs into bed with a man whose very soul shines with goodness and light. Maybe she just needs balance, and that’s why she’s here.
Or, maybe she’s just bad.
Right now there is chilled champagne and Sebastian giving her a look with those stygian eyes, and it isn’t the time to worry about her soul or lack thereof. She’ll worry about it later.
Gluttony
“What do you want, my White Queen?” Sebastian asks, and she ceases her restless prowling and thinks about his question.
“Right now?” She looks at him, sprawled on the bed, arms behind his head and hair loose over his shoulders. Her mouth quirks up. “I don’t think you’re rested enough yet for what I want.”
He laughs. “Flattering, but I meant in the more general sense.”
She touches her fingers to the surface of the mirror above his dresser, smiling. “Everything. I want everything.”
She meets his gaze in the glass, and she can tell that he’s pleased.
So easy.
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: Comicverse.
Characters: Emma Frost/Sebastian Shaw. Some brief reference to Emma/Scott.
Word Count: 7 Drabbles, 100 words each. I used the following prompts from X_Men100; Smile, Sex, Hands, Destruction, Deceit, Regret and Hair.
AN: This pairing has been obsessing me lately thanks to Pojypojy's gorgeous art, found Here.
Cross-posted to Whitequeencourt, Marvel_Fic, and X_Men100.
Pride
Emma runs her hands through his hair; pale-white tangled in strands of coal-black.
“Why do you insist on wearing this ridiculous bow?” she asks, smiling slyly.
He looks down at her, amused. “Why do you insisting on dressing like such a tramp?”
“Are you complaining?” Her sinful body presses against his, climbing him like ivy.
Sometimes he’s not sure if he wants to backhand her or fuck her. Possibly he’ll start with the backhanding. Knowing Emma, that’ll either put her in the mood or make her try to kill him.
Either option is equally amusing. He’s always liked a challenge.
Lust
Emma watches him with potential investors, trying not to laugh. All they see is a gentleman with a charming smile and gleaming dark eyes, pretending to be a bigot with an axe to grind against mutants.
When they’re gone, he pushes her against the glass windows in the darkened conference room of Shaw Industries, and fucks her while she’s staring down at the city below. It’s not really about sex.
He wants her for her telepathy, thinks it will gain him leverage with the Hellfire Club. She wants him because he’s nothing like Scott. Everything in his mind is bad.
Greed
“Why do you insist on fighting me in this, Emma?”
She digs her nails into his back. “Because I think you’re making a mistake. You’re too rash. You’re going to get us all killed.”
His fingers wrap around her neck, tight. “Maybe I should just kill you now.”
She shifts her form to diamond; glassy-hard and impenetrable. “You may certainly try.”
He throws his head back and laughs, then leans down to kiss her. “No. You’d like that too much.” She can feel the sinister intent of his mind in hers. Her body slowly returns to flesh, warm and yielding.
Wrath
When he first told her how Shaw Industries was funding the research and the prototypes for the Sentinel program, she thought he was joking.
“Sebastian, these machines are designed to kill us. Have you forgotten you’re a mutant, too?”
“My dear Emma, I forget nothing,” he said, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed. He reminded her of a general contemplating his next move, sending soldiers off to die. “Would you rather this technology be in the wrong hands?”
Emma perched on his desk, staring down at the schematics. “It’s just that I’m not convinced yours are any better, darling.”
Envy
He’s behind her, long-fingered hands sliding up her arms. Emma watches in the mirror as her eyes slide out of focus and soften.
“I know you hate this,” he murmurs, drawing her silken white robe off and tossing it to the floor.
“You don’t know anything, darling,” she purrs. She turns in his embrace and presses indolently against him, smiling. He’s not a handsome man, but that doesn’t matter. Darkness leaks from his mind like a poison, and it’s enough. His mouth brushes against her neck and she shivers.
One day she’ll make him pay for this, for her loyalty.
Sloth
Emma drapes herself indolently over the chair and watches as Sebastian orders one of the lower members to perform some menial task.
She knows there’s something very wrong with her, that she goes home at night and climbs into bed with a man whose very soul shines with goodness and light. Maybe she just needs balance, and that’s why she’s here.
Or, maybe she’s just bad.
Right now there is chilled champagne and Sebastian giving her a look with those stygian eyes, and it isn’t the time to worry about her soul or lack thereof. She’ll worry about it later.
Gluttony
“What do you want, my White Queen?” Sebastian asks, and she ceases her restless prowling and thinks about his question.
“Right now?” She looks at him, sprawled on the bed, arms behind his head and hair loose over his shoulders. Her mouth quirks up. “I don’t think you’re rested enough yet for what I want.”
He laughs. “Flattering, but I meant in the more general sense.”
She touches her fingers to the surface of the mirror above his dresser, smiling. “Everything. I want everything.”
She meets his gaze in the glass, and she can tell that he’s pleased.
So easy.