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katleeptTitle: "Deliver"
Author: Kat Lee
For: CyKiESuMMerS, who helps to keep me inspired for this pairing; one of my favorite guys, Adam Ant, with whom I have so much in common (his autobiography is the best book I've ever read and I've wanted to talk to him ever since and thank him for writing it as it helped me to get through an especially tough time in my life); and, as always, for my beloved Drew!
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Alone in her classroom, the White Queen mulls through a book which she never would have touched if she had not had to confiscate it from one of her students earlier that afternoon. She's surprised at the girl who makes her think so much of herself. Emma had always had far better taste than that which the readers of these sorts of tales possessed, and she would have thought her young student would have, too.
She smirks at the pathetic wording the author chooses in so many places as she flips through page after page. She's bored, she tells herself, as she waits for her student to return to reclaim her book. That and her curiosity as to why such a normally level-headed girl would waste her time and reading on such a dull novel which is not even worthy of its print are the only reasons why she's reading anything in this pack of papers strung together in a cover. (The romance novel is not even worth being called a book, in Emma's noncharitable opinion.)
But then words jump from the page, captivating her attention at last. She bends the pages back a little further, creasing the cover's spine, and peers closer at the type. Her lips part, moisture sheening upon their full plumpness. Her blue eyes widen just a little bit, and she reads.
She leans forward in her seat. Her hands grip the book. Her classroom fades from around her; she doesn't hear her student enter. Her breathing becomes labored as she continues to read, and then a voice cuts smoothly and clearly through her riveted attention. "Miss Frost?"
Emma jumps just a tad and blinks rapidly as she remembers who she really is, where she is, and the image of the hard and cold teacher which is it is so important to her to represent. Her blue eyes cast a sharp glare upon the girl who caught her reading a book of which she'd never admit reading so much as three words. "Celeste," she snaps, slapping the paperback book into the girl's outstretched hands, "it is about time you showed."
She stands and quickly gathers the tests which she plans on grading that evening. "Honestly, I have more important and better things to do than to wait for you to come and claim such filth."
The blonde teenager, who looks identical to a younger version of her teacher, knowingly hides her smile. "Yes, ma'am."
"See to it that you are not seen with such filth again, young lady. If I have to take such a thing from you in class again, you will not receive that pathetic excuse for a novel back. I will hand it over to the pyrokinetics class instead. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Celeste murmurs, hiding the book behind her slender back.
Emma's eyes meet her downcast gaze. The older woman smiles a very rare grin of true warmth and reassurance. "You are far too intelligent a young woman, Celeste, to allow your powerful mind to indulge in such trivial frivolous drivel."
"Yes, ma'am."
Emma's gaze instantly becomes stern again. "You are dismissed," she says, turning on her white, high heels and waltzing away.
Emma attends a meeting in the War Room, sees a team off to yet another battle, and then dallies long enough in the kitchen and wine cellar to fetch herself a nice glass of cool and bubbling champagne. Her arms are still loaded with textbooks and tests, and she's balancing them somewhat precariously along with her glass of champagne when she opens the door to the bedroom she shares with the current man in her life. For a moment, as her eyes fall upon their bed, she pauses to reflect upon the changes in her life.
Celeste does remind her a great deal of herself, as do the other Cuckoos, but the woman they mostly make her think of is almost entirely gone. She was the leader of the Hellions, a truly hardcore and harsh bitch who would have remained that way forever had her own adversarial relationship with the other Queen of the Hellfire Club not cost her students their lives. Then she'd gone away to Charles and a new academy, which also had not worked out. At least, most of her students had lived, but exacting revenge for the cold-hearted murder of the last child amongst them whom she'd lost had cost her all the friendships she'd thought she'd made over the years.
Thus, fate, a cold, hard bitch herself, had brought Emma back to Xavier's first school and to mutants who tried to be heroes but hated her with every fiber of her being. One man had taken a chance on her besides Charles. One man had understood why she had killed her sister to protect her remaining students. One man had not hated her.
Emma freezes as a sharp blade thrusts into her back after she's taken a mere three steps into her bedroom. She hears hurried footsteps behind her as her attacker moves the remaining way between her and the door. He slams the door, but no one who hears the slamming will think anything of it. They'll dismiss the sound as an irked teenager or a fighting couple. They won't know she's under attack, and only one of them would care if he did.
Then Emma realizes what is truly happening. A smile fills her beautiful face as she turns to meet her attacker. The man is dressed in the impeccable garb of a highwayman, and it is an authentic sword that he thrusts at her. "Stand and deliver!" her attacker cries with a debonair smile that threatens both to take Emma's breath away and cause her to burst out laughing.
All thoughts of the past escape her as does the facade she tries so hard to always keep up. She lets her books and papers drop to the floor in a hurry as she smiles at the man she's finally beginning to think might one day have the honor of calling himself her husband. She should have known he'd pick up on her dally with that silly, romance book through their shared telepathic link. She hadn't suspected a thing, but perhaps, she thinks, facing his blade and stern but handsome face, that's for the best.
Else, he could not have managed to surprise her as he has now. Of course, then again, she thinks, no one would believe that Scott Summers would dare to dress up as a highwayman. No one, that is, but herself for she knows him better than he knows himself just as he knows her best of all. Emma opens her arms, her champagne glass dangling from two, long, and slender fingers. "All you had to do was ask, kind sir," she mocks. She then lets him cut the clothes from her body, and they both reveal in the sweet lovemaking that follows. Never has it felt so good to let somebody master her, and Emma wishes the rest of her life could be spent in her submissive posture in Scott's loving arms!
The End
Author: Kat Lee
For: CyKiESuMMerS, who helps to keep me inspired for this pairing; one of my favorite guys, Adam Ant, with whom I have so much in common (his autobiography is the best book I've ever read and I've wanted to talk to him ever since and thank him for writing it as it helped me to get through an especially tough time in my life); and, as always, for my beloved Drew!
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Alone in her classroom, the White Queen mulls through a book which she never would have touched if she had not had to confiscate it from one of her students earlier that afternoon. She's surprised at the girl who makes her think so much of herself. Emma had always had far better taste than that which the readers of these sorts of tales possessed, and she would have thought her young student would have, too.
She smirks at the pathetic wording the author chooses in so many places as she flips through page after page. She's bored, she tells herself, as she waits for her student to return to reclaim her book. That and her curiosity as to why such a normally level-headed girl would waste her time and reading on such a dull novel which is not even worthy of its print are the only reasons why she's reading anything in this pack of papers strung together in a cover. (The romance novel is not even worth being called a book, in Emma's noncharitable opinion.)
But then words jump from the page, captivating her attention at last. She bends the pages back a little further, creasing the cover's spine, and peers closer at the type. Her lips part, moisture sheening upon their full plumpness. Her blue eyes widen just a little bit, and she reads.
She leans forward in her seat. Her hands grip the book. Her classroom fades from around her; she doesn't hear her student enter. Her breathing becomes labored as she continues to read, and then a voice cuts smoothly and clearly through her riveted attention. "Miss Frost?"
Emma jumps just a tad and blinks rapidly as she remembers who she really is, where she is, and the image of the hard and cold teacher which is it is so important to her to represent. Her blue eyes cast a sharp glare upon the girl who caught her reading a book of which she'd never admit reading so much as three words. "Celeste," she snaps, slapping the paperback book into the girl's outstretched hands, "it is about time you showed."
She stands and quickly gathers the tests which she plans on grading that evening. "Honestly, I have more important and better things to do than to wait for you to come and claim such filth."
The blonde teenager, who looks identical to a younger version of her teacher, knowingly hides her smile. "Yes, ma'am."
"See to it that you are not seen with such filth again, young lady. If I have to take such a thing from you in class again, you will not receive that pathetic excuse for a novel back. I will hand it over to the pyrokinetics class instead. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Celeste murmurs, hiding the book behind her slender back.
Emma's eyes meet her downcast gaze. The older woman smiles a very rare grin of true warmth and reassurance. "You are far too intelligent a young woman, Celeste, to allow your powerful mind to indulge in such trivial frivolous drivel."
"Yes, ma'am."
Emma's gaze instantly becomes stern again. "You are dismissed," she says, turning on her white, high heels and waltzing away.
Emma attends a meeting in the War Room, sees a team off to yet another battle, and then dallies long enough in the kitchen and wine cellar to fetch herself a nice glass of cool and bubbling champagne. Her arms are still loaded with textbooks and tests, and she's balancing them somewhat precariously along with her glass of champagne when she opens the door to the bedroom she shares with the current man in her life. For a moment, as her eyes fall upon their bed, she pauses to reflect upon the changes in her life.
Celeste does remind her a great deal of herself, as do the other Cuckoos, but the woman they mostly make her think of is almost entirely gone. She was the leader of the Hellions, a truly hardcore and harsh bitch who would have remained that way forever had her own adversarial relationship with the other Queen of the Hellfire Club not cost her students their lives. Then she'd gone away to Charles and a new academy, which also had not worked out. At least, most of her students had lived, but exacting revenge for the cold-hearted murder of the last child amongst them whom she'd lost had cost her all the friendships she'd thought she'd made over the years.
Thus, fate, a cold, hard bitch herself, had brought Emma back to Xavier's first school and to mutants who tried to be heroes but hated her with every fiber of her being. One man had taken a chance on her besides Charles. One man had understood why she had killed her sister to protect her remaining students. One man had not hated her.
Emma freezes as a sharp blade thrusts into her back after she's taken a mere three steps into her bedroom. She hears hurried footsteps behind her as her attacker moves the remaining way between her and the door. He slams the door, but no one who hears the slamming will think anything of it. They'll dismiss the sound as an irked teenager or a fighting couple. They won't know she's under attack, and only one of them would care if he did.
Then Emma realizes what is truly happening. A smile fills her beautiful face as she turns to meet her attacker. The man is dressed in the impeccable garb of a highwayman, and it is an authentic sword that he thrusts at her. "Stand and deliver!" her attacker cries with a debonair smile that threatens both to take Emma's breath away and cause her to burst out laughing.
All thoughts of the past escape her as does the facade she tries so hard to always keep up. She lets her books and papers drop to the floor in a hurry as she smiles at the man she's finally beginning to think might one day have the honor of calling himself her husband. She should have known he'd pick up on her dally with that silly, romance book through their shared telepathic link. She hadn't suspected a thing, but perhaps, she thinks, facing his blade and stern but handsome face, that's for the best.
Else, he could not have managed to surprise her as he has now. Of course, then again, she thinks, no one would believe that Scott Summers would dare to dress up as a highwayman. No one, that is, but herself for she knows him better than he knows himself just as he knows her best of all. Emma opens her arms, her champagne glass dangling from two, long, and slender fingers. "All you had to do was ask, kind sir," she mocks. She then lets him cut the clothes from her body, and they both reveal in the sweet lovemaking that follows. Never has it felt so good to let somebody master her, and Emma wishes the rest of her life could be spent in her submissive posture in Scott's loving arms!
The End
