She had been crying a lot lately. Always in the night, behind closed bathroom door. She probably thought he didn't know. Didn't notice
when her body suddenly tensed in the middle of a dream, and she
bolted from the bed. Walked calmly in complete darkness and closed
the door silently behind her before switching the light on.
He hadn't interrupted her sessions. Not once. If she needed him, she
would come to him. Now he was severely tempted to go after her.
Scent of her blood wafted from the small wet patch on the sheet
where she had lain just few minutes ago. He reached his hand and
brushed the patch with his fingertips lightly. Still warm. Marie and
another, faint but distinctive marker. Victor. A month. She had
managed to carry nearly a month. Small wonder considering her
condition.
He sat up and swung his legs to floor. It wouldn't hurt to ask if
she needed anything.
She wasn't crying anymore. If anything, she looked only relieved
when he stepped in to bathroom. She stood in front of full-length
mirror, naked as a day she was born, hands placed over her lower
abdomen. Small streaks of blood colored her inner thighs. She didn't
even flinch when he stepped behind her, cupping her breasts with his
large palms and pulling her against his warm chest.
"Feeling better now?" He asked. She reached with her hands and
pulled his face against her neck, where he could smell her scent
alone, smiling softly, tears still streaking her cheeks.
"Is it wrong? To feel this good?" She asked. He nibbled her jugular
lightly with his lips.
"No. It's over now. Don't fret over what you feel. Just feel it," he
murmured, caressing her abdomen, feeling the slight constrictions
inside of her. Wondered briefly if there was something seriously
wrong when sight of his mate getting a miscarriage made him only
unbelievable horny. Discarded that thought.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I have early morning tomorrow."
That had been two weeks ago. Ever since she had gotten more
distressed every day. She was jittery and nervous around him,
falling stuff, stumbling over things, blabbering nonsense about this
or that friend, reeking of arousal and fertility to high heavens.
Nights were worst, when she lay next to him, cuddled against him,
and dreamed. Skin glistening from sweat, hands caressing his body,
soft moans escaping from her lips when she rubbed her sex against
his thigh, smearing him with her juices. He didn't know how much
longer he could take it without taking her.
He missed sex. Just being inside of her. Feeling the warmth, and her
body wrapped around him completely, but he was insecure of what to
do. How to approach the issue after what she had gone through. His
own experience at POW camp had left him angry and vengeful. He
hadn't gotten his revenge. It had gnawed him, until one night they
had brought a prisoner to the tent next to his. When his mechanic
had left with his drinking buddies, leaving him seemingly asleep, he
had sneaked to prison tent. Another destroyer lay there, shackled
from head to toe, mutilated beyond recognition. When he had
approached him, his eyes had opened and surprisingly coherent gaze
had locked to his face.
"Do your worst." He had put him out of his misery quickly and
painlessly, leaving the body for guards to find.
He had gotten his closure that night. He was worried what would
happen if he gave in to his urges with Marie. He didn't want her to
associate Sabretooth's brutality to their relationship. Or what was
left of that relationship. It was fragile enough as it was.
"I need this. I need you." She had him cornered, his back against
the cold tiled bathroom wall, hands braced on both sides of his
head, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Her lips were hovering
only inches from his, eyes searching his, pupils fully dilated.
"Marie, I…" She didn't let him finish his sentence. Her small hand
grabbed a firm hold from his hair, yanking his head backwards,
baring his neck. Her teeth latched on to his throat none too gently,
nearly breaking the skin. He hissed when tears welled up to his
eyes. She was grinding her crotch against his, tearing his shirt
open.
"Either you give it willingly, or I'll take it…" It wasn't a threat.
It was a promise. Scent of her arousal was strong enough to nearly
suffocate him. She managed to tear his shirt away from his shoulders
with her other hand. Other still held his head on a death grip. Bite
mark on his throat was slowly fading. Beast in him rearing its ugly
head. And suddenly it broke free, howling in triumph.
She was flat against the wall, panting, scratching and biting, blunt
teeth and nails drawing blood. With a swift move he had divested her
from her pants and opened his. He was buried to the hilt inside of
her throbbing core, teeth locked firmly around her shoulder. He
could taste her blood and arousal. Taste of them spurred the beast
to continue. She was whimpering and convulsing, pulling him deeper
with every stroke, until he was sure with next one he would skewer
her uterus. She was coming again. He had lost count of how many
times orgasm had already rippled through her system. And every time
she screamed and pleaded.
"Give it to me… Give it to me now… Make me yours again…"
His bones were melting. All organs turning to pure liquid. Brain,
guts, muscles, even adamantium mixing together. He was dying, and at
the same time living stronger than ever before. Shy smile on her
face, soft fingers on his face, coaxing him through it all, pulling
out last vestiges of darkness, life and death still residing in his
body.
He was shivering. Aftershock. He couldn't make himself move from
where he had collapsed. He knew he had to be crushing her, but he
couldn't make his body obey. He cracked open his eyes and met her
gaze. It was serious, but warmth had returned to her eyes. She was
practically glowing inner light.
"I think we are going to make it."
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