Disclaimer: All characters within are the sole property of Marvel Entertainment and are used here without Marvel's permission (I hope not at least, or I'll get seriously worried).
Warning: This story contains extensive references to a m/m sexual encounter and therefore may be inappropriate for under age and/or sensitive readers.
Author's Notes: "Hidden Desires" is, if I may say so myself, an undoubtedly screwed up piece of fanfiction. Don't ask what I was on, I think it might have been the Kevin Bacon movie I was watching. I am going in for the shock factor rather than good writing and if you're easily impressionable do NOT read this.
THE SHAPESHIFTER TRILOGY
Hidden Desires
by Lady Disdain
Raven Darkholme sits at the edge of the large four-poster bed, whimsically twisting a strand of her hair around her slim fingers, watching the flame red contrast with the bluish grey of her skin. She turns around, not caring when the crisp white sheet around her body slips off of her, leaving her naked. Her eyes meet the figure of her lover. She sighs quietly, to herself.
Victor Creed is lying on that same bed, fully clothed and bored. He growls as he switches the TV off and stares into the emptiness of the room. He can smell the sweet scent of the candles Raven had scattered around the room prior to his coming. He can also smell the fading scent of desire and lust. His glazed eyes travel to the still form of Raven, sprawled seductively beside him with a beckoning gleam in her gaze. He growls again and switches the TV back on. He listens to the thunderous sound of the news helicopter at the scene of a gruesome crime but he doesn't really hear it. He's in a trance, somewhere between reality and his deeper subconscious, oblivious to all around him, especially the naked woman by his side.
Raven sighs again, although this time she hardly notices. Her mind is running wild with ideas of how to grab Creed's attention. Raising his desire never used to be a challenge for her. The one true challenge was to keep up with his incredible hunger and stamina. Something has changed though, because an hour has passed and they have hardly even laid eyes on one another. She has tried to coax him with a few caresses and resumed to playing rough when the nice and slow approach had failed. Neither has worked. Creed got started, the connection seemed to have been made, but then he'd pull away and reach for the damn remote control. So she tried shapechanging. Truth of the matter, this isn't the first time she has had to resolve to her mutant power of shapeshifting to arouse Creed. Over the years they have been together, she has morphed into a myriad of characters, from the common French maid to the more obscure form of Reed Richards. All had proven useful but this night no figure seems to turn Creed on. Raven's lips pull themselves into a slow smile as an intriguing idea enters her mind. It might do the trick, she says to herself, and after all, Creed's psyche does work in mysterious ways. He would never propose this shapeshifting himself, so it's up to her to find out whether it'd work or not. Swiftly, she morphs into a character familiar to them both. She reaches over to Creed with one hand and turns his head in her direction.
He begins to growl but gasps when he sees the vision lying beside him. A little astounded at first, he finally smiles and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. His movements become more feverish and eager as passion courses through him. He can feel the throbs in his groin gathering momentum as his hands work on the trousers' zipper. He collapses on the bed again and claims his lover's mouth with his, kissing it hard and sucking on the bottom lip before he bites it roughly. He licks the blood that trickles down from it onto the chin.
Smiling wickedly, Creed pushes the sheets away with his large hands. "Time someone taught ya t'get down on yer knees and beg, runt."
He watches Logan's lips curl into a spiteful smile. "Make me."
Creed growls and tears Logan's blue and yellow spandex uniform apart with his claws. Logan lies still, that same smile fixed on his face as Creed runs his claws along his chest and grasps at his coarse hair, pulling it roughly. Finally, he growls from the pain, twitching slightly. Creed grins and reclines his lips over Logan's right nipple, suckling it at first then biting hard, squeezing it between his teeth. He can feel Logan struggle underneath him, which only results in Creed pushing down on him harder, until his manhood is rubbing against Logan's bare thighs.
Suddenly, Creed stands up and pulls Logan off the bed by taking a handful of his black hair in his right hand. He crashes Logan against the wall, keeping the short man's back to him. Creed pulls on Logan's hair, enjoying the sight of his arched neck under the strain of his grasp. His free hand travels across Logan's shoulders and down his back, claws leaving red trails and shivers. He strokes the hair on his buttocks. With a sly smile, he spreads his fingers wide and slaps each buttock twice. Logan yelps helplessly. Creed spanks him again, harder and gaining more pleasure from it. He forces him to stand spread-eagled, pushed against the wall, as he covers him with his own body.
Logan's whimpers of submissive pleasure transform themselves into loud moans, seeping through his clenched teeth. He gives out an awful groan as he feels Creed's strong hand reach for his thick, hard sex, abusing it with an unspeakable ferocity. Another groan follows; it turns into a shriek when Creed pushes his own member into Logan's tight, rough opening, pulling the pert globes apart with the hand that was entangled in his hair. He feels the pain, inevitable and welcome, the pain of Creed's deep thrusts which wound him without care or gentleness. He bites on his lower lip and closes his eyes, feeling the full length of Creed on him, pushing him against the wall. He finds himself moving with it.
"Yer tight, runt, real tight," Creed growls, leaving Logan to shiver as Creed's teeth graze against the back of his own neck. The guttural cry that fills the room lets Logan know that Creed has reached the pinnacle. He feels him slip away then collapse on him, two naked bodies revelling in each other's wet skin.
As they lie in bed together, Creed looks over at Raven and smiles. "How did ya know I'd like it?"
"I followed a simple rule," Raven explains, shifting her weight on her hip so her back faces Creed and he can't see the coy smile that creeps up on her lips, "like father like son."
Disclaimer: All characters within are the sole property of Marvel Entertainment and are toyed with here without Marvel's consent ( hey come on, I've gotta keep myself amused somehow!).
Warning: "Paper Faces on Parade" contains references to a sexual encounter and may be inappropriate for under age and/or sensitive readers.
Author's notes: First off, Morph is actually the Changeling and he's obviously not dead. So just think of him as a current X-Man. This story is not as disturbing as "Hidden Desires" and I did try to make it sweet so don't come complain to me because you think I'm a pervert. I got plenty of shrinks to tell me that.
THE SHAPESHIFTER TRILOGY
Paper Faces on Parade
by Lady Disdain
The room feels cold, empty. Even as the music from the stereo drowns every other noise, one can still hear the silence of loneliness. It's all darkness, outside and within. The alarm clock on the bedside table ticks and tocks unnoticed, the uneven arms glowing in the lack of light. They glow closer to each other as they slowly reach the digit 4.
Morph shifts in the chair. In deep frustration, he throws the book he was trying to read by moonlight against the wall and watches it drop to the ground. His mind can't concentrate. The air is too moist with heat, suffocating him. There is something else suffocating him, an unutterable desire that has haunted him all day. He tries to push the vision away, tries to fight it but it's stronger than him and the vision is so delicious, so perfect. Finally, he abandons himself to it. Images of the tall, young man playing basketball resurface until they meet his inner eye. It had been a hot afternoon, much hotter than any other that summer, and the Professor had decided it was not the weather to train in so the team had gone their separate ways. A certain group had gotten together to play basketball. Rogue and Jubilee had been there, in their skimpy outfits, ready to play against Gambit and Cannonball, who were both stripped to the waist. The game had been fast and rough at times. Morph had joined Boomer on the side lines to watch. In her usual hyped up manner, she had been screaming and waving her arms about. Morph had glared at her. He hates Boomer, hates her even more when he sees her with Cannonball.
Morph had resigned himself to the fact that he had the hots for Samuel Guthrie the day they had met. It had taken one look at the blonde haired, blue eyed boy for Morph to find himself lost in a labyrinth of passion. He couldn't get Sam out of his mind. Those clear blue eyes taunt him in his sleep, beckoning him to them. He has tried to hide it and no-one has noticed so far but it's driving him insane. That day, when he had seen Sam's muscles glisten in the harsh sunlight, he had nearly fallen over the edge of madness. He had felt an incredible urge to run his fingers through Sam's short blonde hair and watch it fall back onto his eyes.
Oh those eyes, Morph thinks to himself as he sits in his room alone. If he could only have him for one night, his obsession would be satiated. It is a purely physical thing after all. A thought that often plays in Morph's mind rears its tiny head again. It is unscrupulous and selfish but it might keep all parties happy. Morph stands up and goes to the window. Inhaling deeply he changes into the form of Boomer. He stares at the reflection on the window glass.
"God forgive me," he whispers, shuddering at the sound of his feminine voice. He hangs his head and walks to the door. Sam's room is only a few steps away. The long corridor is lit by a single lamp in the middle. From a distance, it seems endless, drowned in the darkness.
Sam stirs at the sound of the door opening softly. Rubbing his eyes with his hands like a small child, he sits up in bed and stares at the figure standing in his doorway. He can barely make out the smooth curves and short blonde hair, but he instinctively knows who it is. "Tabitha? Is somethin' wrong, girl?" his voice is sweet, clear, innocent and concerned. He watches as Tabitha closes the door and noiselessly glides over to the bed. She stands there, looking down at him and smiling coyly. Sam reaches over to switch on the bed lamp beside him. A feeble golden light fills the room, adding an almost eerie glow to it. Sam's blue eyes widen. "Tabitha?" he whispers once more.
She sits at the edge of the bed, still smiling. "Am I disturbing you Sam?"
"No, of course not," he's near stuttering. "Is there somethin' ah can do for you?"
She giggles softly and slips her hand between his. "It's the last night the X-Force team are here and we never get to see each other," she begins to explain, "so I thought we could --"
Stirring in his bed, Sam tries to make sense out of the situation in his head. "We could what?" he asks, feeling stupid and bashful.
Tabitha doesn't answer him, she only pushes his arms apart and slides down on him, resting her back on his chest and enclosing his arms over her body in a warm embrace. She can feel his mouth brush softly against her cheek. Sam takes a deep breath and pulls her deeper into the natural cradle of his limbs. As he begins to relax, Tabitha twists herself around until she's facing him, resting her chin on his torso and gazing up at him from under her blonde eyebrows. There is something in her eyes, Sam thinks, something he hadn't seen before. An unutterable desire.
She can feel his body tensing up under the slight pressure of hers and smiles at the thought. With one hand, she reaches up and plays with a strand of Sam's blonde hair, twisting it around her fingers gently. Enjoying the feel of the sheets moving along with her, Tabitha shifts forwards and lies her lips on Sam's, kissing them softly then more forcefully, opening his mouth with hers. Her tongue finds his and they engage in lingering caresses. He feels the world come to a standstill then, as though it has stopped to observe these two young lovers locked in a ravishing kiss. As she pushes herself deeper into the kiss, Tabitha runs her hands along Sam's taut torso, delighted at the discovery that he sleeps in only his boxer shorts. He pulls away gently when her hands find them and start to fiddle with the elastic band. "Are you sure about this girl?" His tone is so uncertain, so caring. It grips at Tabitha's heart and squeezes tight until she's sure she is about to break down. But she can feel his want and it reassures her as she stands up and slowly unbuttons her pink blouse, letting it tumble down to the floor, followed by her skirt and undies. She smiles at Sam, naked and a little scared. Her smile broadens inadvertedly when Sam gasps and his eyes grow slowly bigger.
In her smooth skin, he catches a glimpse of a far away dream. He feels paralysed for a brief instant, his thoughts stopping in their accelerated flow. Then, slowly and almost furtively, the passion that roars through his veins awakens him to the chimerical reality he is engulfed in. The tantalizing playfulness of her naked body standing there, dancing in the weak light without really moving, summons his desire until it reaches a point where little else matters. He slides closer to Tabitha, gazing up at her in awe. Suddenly, he buries his face against the soft skin of her stomach, holding on to her as a castaway holds on to the last piece of floating wood, in a desperate attempt to be saved. She lets him hold her for a splinter of an eternity, running her fingers through his hair, shivering as his warm breath spills over her contours. Gently, she withdraws and lies beside him, her arms open to him in a beckoning embrace and he falls within them once more, kissing her neck and shoulders feverishly, tenderly wrapping his own limbs around her. They make love with unhurried gentleness, exploring and marvelling at one another with a dizzying sensuality that mystifies all around them. Each caress, kiss, thrust or cuddle is a wonder to them. With their lips they trace each other's bodies, never wandering too far apart, reaching the peaks of pleasure together and spiralling down that way too. Carefully, they seek a shared ecstasy, attentive to the arousal of passion that enflames them in bright sparks.
As they lie side by side, entangled in a web of arms and legs, Tabitha's eyes roam over Sam's flushed face. She leans over and kisses his forehead, watching his blue eyes travel down her throat and breasts before sliding shut. "I better get going," she says softly. Sam's reaction is to pull her closer without uttering a word. "I have to Sam, we have an early start in the morning." She listens to his silent protest. "Please don't come to say goodbye."
Sam pulls away abruptly and frowns. "Why not?" he sounds a little wounded.
Tabitha tries to reassure him by ruffling his hair with her fingers. "Because it would just be too difficult to go if you're there. Please -- "
In a fraction of a pout, Sam turns on his back and stares at the ceiling. "Ah -- if you want," he finally says, stifling a sigh. Tabitha rests her head on his chest and listens to his heart beat as it slows down and returns to normal. She lets a few minutes pass then disentangles herself from Sam's firm grasp and slides off the bed, gathering up her clothes in the process. There's a sweet scent in the air, the scent of love and lust, a perfect combination. Reluctantly, she steps out of the room and closes the door behind her.
Morph smiles to himself. Treading noiselessly, he moves towards his own room. Passing in front of a door, he hears two muffled voices inside. He presses his ear to the door. Tabitha's giggles bounce against the door, followed by Roberto's deeper laughter, silence, then a different kind of sounds. Morph smiles again, "Just keeping all parties happy."
Disclaimer: All characters within are the sole property of Marvel Entertainment and are once again used here without Marvel's permission.
Warning: Damn it, it seems warnings are all I ever write! Anyway, even this story, surprise surprise, contains references to sexual encounters and yes, these might be inappropriate for under age and/or sensitive readers so get someone else to read it and sum it up for you without the sex and crude language (my best wishes to them!). I do wonder what Freud would make out of this...
Author's Notes: This one is, in my eyes, downright naughty. It doesn't quite belong anywhere time wise, just use your imagination and remember to enjoy. ; )
THE SHAPESHIFTER TRILOGY
Flashes in the Night
by Lady Disdain
Vanessa Carlysle slides along the darkness of the corridors avoiding the artificial light which floods all around her. The footsteps are hardly audible. Her movements are calculated and controlled. She stops sporadically, to disable an alarm system or notify her team mates.
Corsair and the Star Jammers wait in their aircraft, a few light years away from Graymalkin. They have been monitoring Cable's fortress for nearly a month, collecting all the information they require for their mission. Now, they patiently wait for the signal to retrieve Copycat. Corsair has sent her because of her previous knowledge of Cable's habits. Her task is to infiltrate Graymalkin and gather technical information through the Shi'ar computer system to aid them in their attempts to overthrow the Empire.
Vanessa has finally reached the Control Room. A hypothermal scan reveals Cable's presence inside. She considers her options and opens the door by pressing the right code.
Nathan Dayspring turns his attention from the computer screen to the main door. He frowns then smiles only slightly, a small twitch of the lips. "Didn't expect you to be up this late, Dom," his voice sounds weary from lack of rest.
A shrug of the shoulder answers him as the lithe woman walks towards the centre of the room. "Couldn't sleep. What are you doing?"
"Monitoring some activity in Eastern Europe. Might be involving our old friend Deadpool. I'm wondering whether I should drop a couple of hints to the X-Force, see if they decide to check it out -- "
"Still playing baby-sitter to those brats, uh?"
"Can't help it, Dom," he grimaces. "Must be going soft in my old age."
"I was hoping you wouldn't be feeling soft all over tonight."
He stares at the woman standing in front of him for a moment, taking her form all in, memorising every detail of her body. She's wearing her combat suit, the black spandex embracing each curve with the easiness of a silken glove. A stray thought passes through his mind, drawing an unwilling groan.
Domino tilts her head, noticing Cable's scrutiny and its effect on him, and smiles a thin smile. With gliding steps, she reaches the chair he's sitting on and spreads her legs apart, looking down at him, so that he's half trapped by her. She places her hands on her hips and continues to watch him, her gaze becoming a glare. Reclining over him, she claims his mouth with her own, kissing him hard, biting on his lower lip before she opens his mouth and slips her tongue inside it, thrusting so hard he almost chokes. Still, Cable does not rebel, he only sits there and lets her have her way, totally submissive to her desires. Domino's passion explodes against him, a shot fired from deep inside her to him. His lust, already present, remains subdued.
She digs her hands in his silver hair, grasps a handful and pulls him up with it, forcing him to stand on his feet. The chair is pushed away to a far corner of the room. Moving stealthily behind Cable, Domino kisses the back of his neck, first trailing her lips over it then scratching it with her teeth. All the while, her hands stroke his shoulders, down his back, sliding around his waist to travel up his torso on the way to his shoulders again, pushing him against her in a firm grip. He groans and reaches with his hands to touch her but she draws away, shaking her head.
Cable recognises the gleam in her eyes and the sly smile. It all brings his passion to the surface but he tries to control it until he feels it straining against the rough, tight fabric of his trousers. Domino has moved to face him, her glare sizing him up. One hand reaches out to stroke his forehead, journeying tenderly down to his cheek. Suddenly, that same hand withdraws then comes crushing against his skin in a vicious slap.
Cable remains motionless, staring at Domino as her smile thinly broadens. Slowly and confidently, with movements as graceful as a jungle cat, she sits on the edge of the desktop, arms crossed in front of her and a phlegmatic expression on her face.
"Undress," she orders in a calm tone.
Cable's hands work on the fastenings of his shirt, pulling it over his head, along his arms and letting it drop to the floor. The rest of his clothes swiftly follow and he is standing there, in the middle of his Control Room, naked and aroused. He can barely withstand Domino's cold scrutiny. Shifting slightly on his feet, he awaits her orders.
She stares hard at him, narrowing her eyes, taking his whole image in. "On your knees."
He obeys diligently, shuddering at the feel of the cool metal against his knees and hands as he kneels on all fours. He watches Domino's feet come into view and his eyes roam over her slim ankles and calves. His back arches to bring his head to the floor and his lips kiss the tip of her feet. She looks superb to him then, standing over him, hands on hips, a defiant stance to her well toned body. She flashes him a sly smile, displaying two perfect rows of pearly white teeth enclosed by full lips. Her hand is stable and controlled as she reaches behind her to retrieve a long object tied around itself, a leather whip of considerable length. Cable hears the sharp sounds of the whip flicking against the floor in spasmodic jerks of Domino's wrist. He feels it slide along his back, slowly yet menacingly. He draws a breath, mentally following the path of the whip on his skin, waiting for the first lash. It comes, inflicting a sharp pain, leaving a burning sensation. Three more flicks of Domino's wrist, three more red marks on Cable's back.
She steps away and walks around his crouched form until she's standing behind him. Swiftly, she secures the end of the whip around his neck, in the manner of a leash and tugs at it roughly, jerking Cable's body upwards so that he is on his knees alone. With equally careless brutality, Domino drags him to the far end of the room, where she releases him from the grip of the whip and uses it to tie his arms to the sturdy legs of the work desk. The leather rubbing against his arms and hands, Cable looks up at the woman who now stands between his open legs. He groans, trying to break free but not really wanting to. Helpless, excited, he waits impatiently for her touch, for her words, for her body.
Once more, Domino steps away from her submissive lover. Slowly, with careful hands, she peels off her suit, discarding it to a lonely corner, watching Cable's hungry eyes roam over her figure, her magnificent curves. Naked, with only her high heeled boots on, she stands over him, feet on either side of his face. A lascivious smile answers Cable's yearning growl as he sees her slim fingers knead the supple flesh of her breasts, circling the stiff nipples. In lingering strokes they travel down to her stomach then bury themselves in the soft flesh between her thighs, sliding in and out of the long slit, each caress making her arch her neck and moan. He can see the slippery wetness of her desire; he can almost smell its pungent scent; he can imagine it enveloping him and it drives him crazy. She digs the sharp heel of her right boot into his chest, nearly drawing blood, watching his mouth as it twitches and his teeth grind together to deal with the pain.
On hearing him growl, Domino's gaze meets his and she smiles again when she sees a flash of psionic energy lighting his left eye, a smile which stretches into a grin as her eyes slide down along his body and find his manhood erect and hard, that same spark of light making it gleam in the semi darkness of the room. She lowers her hips on it, rubbing her intimate folds against the thick shaft, feeling him shudder underneath her. Finally, as Cable approaches the verge of explosion and surrender, she slides him inside her, taking his whole length into her, pausing for a moment then rhythmically gliding up and down on his member. Her pace increases, slows down and increases again. Unable to hold back, Cable lifts his hips off the floor to push himself deep inside Domino, craving her warmth and tightness, at the same time quivering as her nails dig into his skin.
They lie beside each other shortly after, exhausted and content. As soon as Cable has dozed off, still tied to the desk legs, Vanessa stands up and approaches the main computer. She is busy retrieving the information the Star Jammers need when she hears a familiar voice behind her, making her shiver.
"Good work, girlie," Domino's voice slithers out from the shadows, "but I've gotta tell you, that won't do. You were far too gentle with him. Now you've gotta deal with me and that's going to hurt."