Normally, Charles had a remarkably good rein over his powers. Ever since he first learned that he could use them, he'd trained himself carefully in order to prevent any mishaps. Although Charles often did put his telepathy to use on the vast majority of people, he had promised to never read Raven's mind again, and for years he had kept that only
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"Hey, are you ok?" she asked, her words hissed slightly. She was thankful that her speech had improved over the years. The hiss was barely noticeable, at least, until she said a few certain letters. She kept a short distance between them, not sure what was effecting him. She knew that the aphrodisiacs could really get to someone when they were new, but there could be other things too.
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Normally, it was more than a little difficult to sneak up on Charles, but right now he hadn't even noticed she was there until she'd started speaking.
What peculiar eyes.
It's a coherent thought that manages to form before being drowned out by all the others.
"Unfortunately, no. I would appreciate it if you could--" there's a wince as he feels the phantom sensation of teeth on his neck. "Tell me where we are."
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"I'm Medusa Preston. Most just call me Deuce," she said as she leaned againstthe chest of drawers that was against a wall. "No one has been able to find a way out of the new city that surrounds the place now."
She sighed softly, shaking her head. She wondered just how he would react to the rest of her snake-like features. She noticed the way he noticed her eyes.
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Happening by an open door, she was unable to resist the urge to peek inside, her curiosity getting the better of her. She'd ended up meeting some pretty interesting people that way, so it was something she'd started to feel less guilty about. As she stepped inside the room and spotted the young man at the window, her mind suddenly exploded with... thoughts. Her first thought was that she'd stumbled on a telepath, only she was quite sure that telepathy didn't work that way. They could her her thoughts, not the other way around. Maybe the stranger was an some sort of empath, capable of projecting his ability on ( ... )
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His fingers slip up to his temple, pressing against there in a familiar gesture, trying to calm his own mind. But it's not a matter of willpower in this case. It doesn't work.
"My apologies," Charles said, his words a little stilted. "This has never happened before."
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She felt sorta useless, not knowing how to help, because she was pretty sure he was in distress. "Um, would it help if you sat? I- I dunno if there's really anything I can do for you." Except maybe distract him. There had to be something to do around here other than have sex. Maybe some board games...
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Perhaps her thought of a distraction was apt after all. Fighting down the urge to groan at a particularly strong sensation hitting him, Charles instead focuses his mind on the constructive.
"You say that it affects people's abilities. Do you know how it does that?"
He's discovering new things about the power of mutation every day, it seemed.
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"Um- oh... sorry. I, uh... thought..." she started stammering. "Thought this room was empty." Oooh, this one was cute. Why did he look so familiar, though?
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"No, it's-- it's quite alright," he gasped, though it was obvious that he most certainly was not alright at this moment. Even with the cold air from the window, it wasn't doing much to keep his body heat down. No one could witness this barrage and stay unaffected, and Charles -- well. Charles was a young man, after all.
"You're a mutant. As am I," there's the ghost of a touch on his collarbones, so real he almost looks down, but it isn't. Somebody else, somewhere in this hotel, is feeling that. "How did either of us get here?"
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"Sorry, I'm... not in the best shape to... figure things out," she admitted. The ache between her thighs was ridiculous, as was the heat. It took considerable effort to keep herself, and her clothing tangible right now. Please don't be a telepath she thought to herself. Kitty had a remarklably dirty mind for such a nice girl, and right now, the theatre of her mind was quite thoroughly based in the gutters. Probably Wisdom's fault. Bastard that he was, that man really knew how to put his tongue to work.
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A bit uneasy Hank went into the room, closing the door behind him out of pure habit of a polite upbringing.
"Charles, are you alright?" he asked having seen him stumble. He stayed close to the door, feeling a bit uneasy. Being in a sex crazed hotel could make one anxious.
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"Hank," Charles gasps, struggling to maintain control. He's actually almost successful at being somewhat presentable, but the hand clutched to the side of his head and his breathing gave him away. "I'm afraid I'm a little...indisposed at the moment."
Understatement.
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"Your telepathy," he said taking his hands away, "Can you stop transmitting?"
He had a horrible feeling the answer was no. Why would he be doing this if he had the choice to stop.
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Despite popular opininon, Charles isn't capable of being a saint all of the time. And when he can't clear his head for two seconds, just enough time to breathe, it starts to fray at his sense of patience.
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