Like Animals
Feb. 22nd, 2016 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Like Animals
Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: My beloved Drew, who used one of her Christmas prompt gifts to inspire this heated, little story
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Sabertooth/Mystique
Rating: R/M
Challenge/Prompt: Drew's Christmas Prompts: Maroon 5's "Animals" and, as it happened to fit that bill, too,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words A to Z: D
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,229
Date Written: 22 February, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He smells her the very second she enters his city. It isn't a favorite city of his. It's just where he's hanging his hat currently, but just like any big, wild cat, his territory is wherever he's roaming at the moment, and just like a big cat, he marks his territory well. He knows she knows he's there. She's seen his marks, heard the whispers that there's a wild beast in town. She probably already knows about the bank robbery, the ass he tore apart on his own, fancy car (he would've taken the car, too, but he by far prefers his bike), and the cashier he fucked on her counter.
She knows he's here, but that's not the reason he's come. Creed's not a fool. He knows her feelings for him are mostly in the past, but again, that's mostly, just like his are for her. But there's something about her that always pulls him back to her. The woman's dangerous with a capital D, and he loves danger.
Just smelling her makes him grin and extend his claws. She smells of gunpowder, sweat, dirt, lead, and her favorite, musky perfume. She changes her perfume every now and then with her different guises, but the other smells are always on her. They mingle together with her own distinct essence to mark her passing. He doesn't care for the scent she buys, but he loves her other scent. He inhales it deeply now, lets his eyes close, and licks his lips. Damn, but the woman's always tasted scrumptious!
There's a reason they actually had a kid together, and a reason why they keep crossing paths. Neither of them wants to, and yet, at the same time, he knows they both look forward to the inevitable rejoining, like now. He could ignore her scent. He knows she won't look him up. But damn, just smelling her makes him horny as Hell, horny like the wild animal that's always raging inside of him, the animal only she can take and satisfy.
He's been around. They both have. Hell, just today, he's already fucked three strangers, and he can smell another woman's scent and a man's on Mystique even from this distance. Still, he knows no one satisfies either of them like they do each other. They're every bit as strong, wild, and powerful as the other. Truthfully, he's more powerful, but she matches him perfectly in bed.
There's always problems when they get together, though. They have a tendency to fight and have torn apart whole towns during a single argument. Neither of them cares who they kill and why, and it's nothing unusual for them to blow some asshole's brains out for being stupid enough to try to intervene when they're fighting. The last one was a Preacher man whose brains spilled out on his Bible.
They shoot at each other. They tear at each other, but they never leave marks for long. His healing factor keeps him from having any scars, and all she has to do to leave his marks behind is to take a new shape, which she does, he knows, at least a dozen times at day. But no matter what shape she's in, her aroma is always the same. He licks his lips again and guzzles down the rest of his beer, still contemplating.
He lost count years ago of how many times she's taken a gun to his head, but she never manages to actually pull the trigger. She's a ruthless bitch, and he likes 'em that way, but she's got a soft spot for him. Damn it if he doesn't have a soft spot for her, too. She's the reason he stayed with X-Factor for as long as he did. He knew that Forge fellow wasn't cut out for her. She'd come cussing back to him eventually, and she did.
She always does, just as he always goes back for her. There's only two other people he's ever gone back into enemy fire to rescue. One's dead now, and the other, he knows, will never be his friend again. Mystique is no one's friend save her own, but then the same is again true for him. He doesn't have a single friend in this world. He doesn't need one. He knows better than to trust people. Every one's got their own agenda, but sometimes, like with him and Mystique, those agendas match for a while.
They'll clash again, he knows, but it'll be worth it to ride her tonight. Grinning wide, feral teeth shining in the moonlight, Creed hops his bike and drives to the bar he tore up earlier. He notices with pride and a certain gleam in his green eyes the way the people, clientele and workers alike, shy away from him when he strides boldly into the bar. The doors swing shut behind him but are quickly opened again with people scurrying to safety. His ears catch the bartender's, "I quit," just before he dashes out the door with the customers.
She stands alone at the bar now. She's wearing a demure, little brunette get up. He prefers blondes generally, and on her, he likes her hair red like the fires of their passion, anger, and fury. Brown just doesn't suit her, but it blends in well. She's trying to hide again, he knows, but he can't hide from her. She's never been able to, and she never will.
He doesn't speak as he strolls up beside her. He knows exactly where her weapons are hidden and that she's got a gun between her and the counter. He doesn't care. His hands ensnare her lithe hips, his claws grazing one side and cutting through her silk blouse. Woman she's pretending to be must have a pretty penny from the way she's dressed, but money's never impressed Victor. It's an ends to a mean, nothing more or less.
Just as she is an ends to a means. He snatches her backwards against her hard body. As his erection presses into her back side, he leans down and runs his tongue over her neck. He feels her shiver, and she's the only woman he's ever touched who's shivered only with excitement and never once with fear.
"Creed," her voice is even, calm, but her heartbeat's roaring like a caged lion, "what do you want?"
"You." He nips her ear, drawing a tiny trickle of blood. "Tonight."
He can feel her hesitation, but just as it was with his hesitation in coming to her tonight, she quickly tosses caution to the wind. Neither of them have ever been good at thinking with their brains. She turns in his arms, and a customer who wasn't in the bar when Creed was there earlier screams as her white skin begins turning blue. She shrugs carelessly, raises her gun, and shoots the asshole. Her yellow eyes sparkle as she tosses casually at him, "I've got time to kill."
Damn, but he's missed this woman! He doesn't love her. He's incapable of loving; everybody knows that. But with Raven, sometimes, it comes close. But not tonight. Tonight, he only wants one thing, and as her lips crash down on his snarling mouth, he knows he's got exactly what she wants, too. He lifts her onto the counter and takes what he wants, drowning his howl deep within her well.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: My beloved Drew, who used one of her Christmas prompt gifts to inspire this heated, little story
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Sabertooth/Mystique
Rating: R/M
Challenge/Prompt: Drew's Christmas Prompts: Maroon 5's "Animals" and, as it happened to fit that bill, too,
1_million_words A to Z: DWarning(s): None
Word Count: 1,229
Date Written: 22 February, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He smells her the very second she enters his city. It isn't a favorite city of his. It's just where he's hanging his hat currently, but just like any big, wild cat, his territory is wherever he's roaming at the moment, and just like a big cat, he marks his territory well. He knows she knows he's there. She's seen his marks, heard the whispers that there's a wild beast in town. She probably already knows about the bank robbery, the ass he tore apart on his own, fancy car (he would've taken the car, too, but he by far prefers his bike), and the cashier he fucked on her counter.
She knows he's here, but that's not the reason he's come. Creed's not a fool. He knows her feelings for him are mostly in the past, but again, that's mostly, just like his are for her. But there's something about her that always pulls him back to her. The woman's dangerous with a capital D, and he loves danger.
Just smelling her makes him grin and extend his claws. She smells of gunpowder, sweat, dirt, lead, and her favorite, musky perfume. She changes her perfume every now and then with her different guises, but the other smells are always on her. They mingle together with her own distinct essence to mark her passing. He doesn't care for the scent she buys, but he loves her other scent. He inhales it deeply now, lets his eyes close, and licks his lips. Damn, but the woman's always tasted scrumptious!
There's a reason they actually had a kid together, and a reason why they keep crossing paths. Neither of them wants to, and yet, at the same time, he knows they both look forward to the inevitable rejoining, like now. He could ignore her scent. He knows she won't look him up. But damn, just smelling her makes him horny as Hell, horny like the wild animal that's always raging inside of him, the animal only she can take and satisfy.
He's been around. They both have. Hell, just today, he's already fucked three strangers, and he can smell another woman's scent and a man's on Mystique even from this distance. Still, he knows no one satisfies either of them like they do each other. They're every bit as strong, wild, and powerful as the other. Truthfully, he's more powerful, but she matches him perfectly in bed.
There's always problems when they get together, though. They have a tendency to fight and have torn apart whole towns during a single argument. Neither of them cares who they kill and why, and it's nothing unusual for them to blow some asshole's brains out for being stupid enough to try to intervene when they're fighting. The last one was a Preacher man whose brains spilled out on his Bible.
They shoot at each other. They tear at each other, but they never leave marks for long. His healing factor keeps him from having any scars, and all she has to do to leave his marks behind is to take a new shape, which she does, he knows, at least a dozen times at day. But no matter what shape she's in, her aroma is always the same. He licks his lips again and guzzles down the rest of his beer, still contemplating.
He lost count years ago of how many times she's taken a gun to his head, but she never manages to actually pull the trigger. She's a ruthless bitch, and he likes 'em that way, but she's got a soft spot for him. Damn it if he doesn't have a soft spot for her, too. She's the reason he stayed with X-Factor for as long as he did. He knew that Forge fellow wasn't cut out for her. She'd come cussing back to him eventually, and she did.
She always does, just as he always goes back for her. There's only two other people he's ever gone back into enemy fire to rescue. One's dead now, and the other, he knows, will never be his friend again. Mystique is no one's friend save her own, but then the same is again true for him. He doesn't have a single friend in this world. He doesn't need one. He knows better than to trust people. Every one's got their own agenda, but sometimes, like with him and Mystique, those agendas match for a while.
They'll clash again, he knows, but it'll be worth it to ride her tonight. Grinning wide, feral teeth shining in the moonlight, Creed hops his bike and drives to the bar he tore up earlier. He notices with pride and a certain gleam in his green eyes the way the people, clientele and workers alike, shy away from him when he strides boldly into the bar. The doors swing shut behind him but are quickly opened again with people scurrying to safety. His ears catch the bartender's, "I quit," just before he dashes out the door with the customers.
She stands alone at the bar now. She's wearing a demure, little brunette get up. He prefers blondes generally, and on her, he likes her hair red like the fires of their passion, anger, and fury. Brown just doesn't suit her, but it blends in well. She's trying to hide again, he knows, but he can't hide from her. She's never been able to, and she never will.
He doesn't speak as he strolls up beside her. He knows exactly where her weapons are hidden and that she's got a gun between her and the counter. He doesn't care. His hands ensnare her lithe hips, his claws grazing one side and cutting through her silk blouse. Woman she's pretending to be must have a pretty penny from the way she's dressed, but money's never impressed Victor. It's an ends to a mean, nothing more or less.
Just as she is an ends to a means. He snatches her backwards against her hard body. As his erection presses into her back side, he leans down and runs his tongue over her neck. He feels her shiver, and she's the only woman he's ever touched who's shivered only with excitement and never once with fear.
"Creed," her voice is even, calm, but her heartbeat's roaring like a caged lion, "what do you want?"
"You." He nips her ear, drawing a tiny trickle of blood. "Tonight."
He can feel her hesitation, but just as it was with his hesitation in coming to her tonight, she quickly tosses caution to the wind. Neither of them have ever been good at thinking with their brains. She turns in his arms, and a customer who wasn't in the bar when Creed was there earlier screams as her white skin begins turning blue. She shrugs carelessly, raises her gun, and shoots the asshole. Her yellow eyes sparkle as she tosses casually at him, "I've got time to kill."
Damn, but he's missed this woman! He doesn't love her. He's incapable of loving; everybody knows that. But with Raven, sometimes, it comes close. But not tonight. Tonight, he only wants one thing, and as her lips crash down on his snarling mouth, he knows he's got exactly what she wants, too. He lifts her onto the counter and takes what he wants, drowning his howl deep within her well.
The End
