Cyclops was right and he wishes he wasn't (cyclopswasright) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-31 22:23:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, emma frost (white queen), scott summers (cyclops) |
"Stay the night?"
Who: Scott and Emma
What: They have the 'us' talk
When: Yesterday evening
Where: Dani and Scott's house (lol)
Status: Complete
Rating: Pg-13 for glossed over sex and Dream!talk.
Fortunately, Dani had gone out. Scott had...well there wasn’t much to clean up and herding the three cats and dog upstairs hadn’t been that difficult. He got some wine for himself, and water for Emma. No use causing an accidental overdose, but maybe he could get her to actually talk.
Mostly, he just missed seeing her. It hadn’t even been a week.
He had it bad.
It was, perhaps, against her better judgement to leave her place for his, but Emma couldn't quite help herself. In spite of her best efforts, she liked Scott Summers and was drawn to him. She longed for his touch and, because she wasn't a completely horrible person, knew that they should probably have a conversation about where things were going. It was only fair and Emma, who had a difficult time opening up about the simplest of thing, figured it would be good for her to get things out in the open.
The cab drove her quickly over and when she paid and got out, she double checked the address on her phone to make sure she'd gone to the right place. It was bigger than she'd imagined, but still not quite as nice as her place. She knew that he must have had roommates to afford living there and sighed at the thought of having to be quiet or bumping into a stranger on her way in.
Their greeting at the front door of the house was quiet and fast. There was more than one type of tension between them and, as they walked down long hallways together to get to his bedroom, she knew something was likely to give tonight.
She ran her hand down the length of his arm, from his elbow to his wrist. She didn't give him her hand to hold, but wasn't against touching him or letting herself be touched. When they were in his bedroom, she closed the door behind herself. "How many roommates do you have?" she asked lightly.
"Just one. I think she could do with more. It's like practically living alone here." The house was huge. Probably not as big as Emma was used to but still pretty large in Scott's book.
The tension was thick. The last time they'd seen each other still hung in the air, and that omnipresent attraction between them making things a little more confusing - or a little more clear as the case might be. He pulled her against him, lightly trailing his fingers along her arms and up to her shoulders. He was patiently waiting to see if she was going to take the first step.
Any response she might have said died on her tongue as he pulled her close. Forget about the roommates, this closeness was what she desired. Pleasantries could be skipped, it wasn't as though Emma cared about anything but her own selfish needs. It was probably a good thing that the soreness of the day's exercises wasn't sharp yet. And the pills she'd taken gave her the slightest of pleasant buzzes but wasn't dulling her mind or libido.
She met his eyes with a question in hers that faded quickly when she realized that she found it odd that he wasn't wearing glasses. Silently and immediately, she chastised herself for such a thought. The dreams didn't matter, or she didn't want them to. Whichever.
The heat between them blazed and Emma, who was conflicted, decided to simply give in to what her body wanted. The physical came quickly and easy to her, so in a graceful move, her lips were on his. Her kiss was hungry and possessive.
The lack of weight on his head was a little odd at this point, Scott was forced to admit. But that would bring up the dreams and while he did want to talk about them almost as much as he wanted to talk about them the heat was stoked a little too high.
His right hand tangled in her hair, his other hand moving down to claim what lay behind. His kiss was every bit as hungry and every bit as possessive.
Talking could wait.
It was some time later that the pair disentangled themselves from each other. Emma stretched on the bed, feeling languid and lazy and good. She looked around the room to try and spot where her clothing had flown off to and wondered silently when they'd kicked the sheets to the floor. It was only after a few silent minutes that she sat up and glanced over at Scott. "Well, the bed's broken in," she said with a wicked smile on her face.
Scott tilted his head back and let out laugh. It was the long sort of utterly relaxed laugh, and it was mostly the fault of the smile on her face.
"I'm not protesting, but the bed probably is." There were angry looking red marks down his chest and on his shoulder, and probably on his back. They burned. They burned so good.
The man propped himself up on one elbow, taking in Emma. He liked it when she was relaxed like this. It felt natural.
She could feel his eyes on her without even looking in his direction and Emma couldn't help but feel exposed. Normally, this wasn't so bad a thing, but when the threat of something serious lingered in the distance, it almost made Emma nervous. The pleasant buzz of the afterglow was still present, but she felt the need to cover herself suddenly, as if to keep him from seeing too much of what she tried to hide.
Leaning over the edge of the bed, Emma gripped the sheet they'd disposed of and brought it around herself. Her muscles protested quietly, but not enough that there was any real sort of pain. When it pooled around her and concealed the majority of her curves, she looked at him. There was a gentleness and a playfulness in her eyes that wasn't always there. "I'm sure the bed enjoyed the exercise."
His smile faded slightly, and he resisted the urge to reach over and brush hair out of her eyes. Instead he rested his hand on her stomach. The look in her eyes relaxed him a bit, "Not as much as I did."
That burning inferno kind of love-making? He wanted that. He knew he could have that with her.
The question was, how to go about it.
"Oh?" There was mischief in her eyes. "Was I very good?" she teased, knowing damn well that she was better than good. It was more pleasant to bait him and to tease than it was to discuss things that needed to be discussed. Emma hated that she was dancing around things instead of dealing with them in her typical blunt fashion. But she was enjoying herself too much to take the first step toward something else.
Part of her hated Scott for being able to get to her in such a way.
"Is there a level greater than good? I'm pretty sure you're on it." He gave her a leisurely grin as he wondered if he needed to be the one to break the ice.
Not that the ice hadn't been effectively broken. Maybe the better phrase was 'break the emotional ice.'
"Of course," she said, just resisting the urge to curl up into him. Emma blamed the painkillers she was on and the fatigue she was feeling. In a careful sort of way, she rested her arm beside his, brushing it lightly against the one he'd put on her stomach.
“I didn’t just ask you over for this, as wonderful as it is.” He lifted his hand to stroke Emma’s cheek, “I don’t think we can keep going on the way we have.”
Her gaze fell to his upper arm and to the little half-moon marks she'd left there when digging her nails into his flesh. "I could," she said. There was a small smile on her lips that didn't reach her eyes.
His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, either, "I can't."
"Alright then." She inhaled and met his gaze. "What do you want?"
"We're not the people in those dreams, not really." Not yet. "But we're who we are. I'm not afraid of being hurt by you. You don't have to be afraid of me hurting you. Stop trying to push me away. It's not going to work."
He smiled ruefully, "I'm too stubborn for my own good."
"I wasn't really trying to." She almost laughed. It was just in Emma's nature to keep people at a distance. She sobered at the thought of the dreams. "The dreams can't be ignored. They're playing a part in everything." A pause. "You look at me like he looks at her," she admitted quietly.
"I know you weren't," Scotty replied, giving a little laugh at himself. The laugh faded as the mood sobered a little. He hadn't wanted to bring up dreams but he couldn't help it. They were woven too much into his mind. He'd had them too often.
"That might have been inevitable."
Emma shifted her weight, sliding back from him just a little. She preferred the distance when they were talking about the dreams. "Inevitable?" Raising a brow, she shook her head. "No." To really understand, she knew, she'd have to know what he'd dreamt about and she had the feeling that he wouldn't hold back much. "Tell me about your dreams, Scott."
Scott thought about it, for a moment. Trying to decide what he wanted to tell her. Or rather how he was going to tell her. Maybe it was best if he just dove right in.
He told her about his powers coming to him, and their out of control nature. He told her about Xavier and his dream. The kiss at Jean's grave. He told her about the encounter in the snow, with the Phoenix force and Kitty's hand around his heart. And the way his heart jumped at Emma. He told her about X-force and the battle to prevent extinction. He told her about sharing everything, because he loved her, and she loved him, and they wanted no more secrets about each other.
He didn't tell her the things that she'd shared with him. He wasn't sure how, or if she even wanted to know.
Emma listened intently, wincing through some parts of Scott's story. The bits about Jean were most worrying, though the fact that he omitted whatever her dream self had shared with him also brought her concern. Why anyone would want to acknowledge or embrace the dreams... Emma couldn't fully understand that.
When the silence had fallen, she took her turn. She spoke about her dreams - the one that had prompted her to quit her job and turn herself into the Frost family's newest black sheep. In that dream, Christian had been institutionalized for sport. And Emma had felt hatred in her heart for her father. She told him about the Phoenix and being possessed, about embracing a shaded Cyclops in a containment egg, of thinking that she was going to burn away. She mentioned the little wisps of dreams that came and went that was of the two of them, often locked in embrace or worse. And she saved the newest for last, the one in the hallway with Kitty and how Kitty had told her that she was the embodiment of evil.
When she finished, she hung her head. While talking, she'd moved further from him and drawn her legs up. Her arms rested heavily on her knees. She looked huddled and unhappy.
Scott scooted closer, pulling her into his arms. Instead of her dreams pushing him away, they pulled him in closer, "For one, people can change. I know you did. I know a lot of things you did, you did with good intentions. There's no such thing as a world of pure black and white, Emma. There's always context."
She let him touch her, but didn't really melt into him. "It doesn't matter," she said, frustrated but not angry. "They don't matter." She looked into his eyes. "I'm not that woman, you're not that man. Jean is going to be fine." It was Jean's role in the dreams that made Emma so reluctant to trust in them. Though she daydreamed about telepathy and could laugh away silly costumes, she couldn't accept Jean Grey being possessed by what seemed to be the devil or dead.
"Jean is going to be fine," He agreed, nodding his head. He didn't want anything happening to her either. There was a lot of emotional pain surrounded Jean in his dreams. Enough that he wondered just how close things had been.
"Yes," Emma agreed, but she wasn't exactly sure how much she believed it. "She will be. Even if I have to be the one to make sure of it." If the Phoenix returned along with Jean's telekinetic powers, Emma would do everything in her power to stop it.
She sighed after a moment of silence, shaking away those thoughts and shrugging herself out of his arms. Emma sat at the edge of the bed, her legs hanging over the side. She felt almost restless.
"You know I'll help?" Scott sat up, watching her, but not approaching any closer. Sometimes people needed to wrestle through their own thoughts without any help from others.
"It would be easy to discount this if we were the only ones."
She turned to face him. "Who else? Aside from Kitty?"
“Kitty’s girlfriend," Scott replied. "Jean, of course." Though he knew the woman would rather forget things. He couldn't blame her, "No one else I'm aware of yet."
They were out there, though. He knew it.
The yet hung heavily in the air.
Emma sighed loudly and rose, feeling listless. She shed the sheet, letting it fall back onto the bed and walked with her arms crossed over her chest. "You said you understand me," she paced slowly, "I'm not sure you do. Which is fine. It isn't as though I've given you much opportunity." A pause. "But if you want me and you want to be with me, you have to understand that I can't just be that person. And I don't want to be treated like I am." She watched his face closely
Scott smiled slightly, "That's fair enough, Emma. I met you before I saw that other you in these dreams. I wanted you before them. But you have to be willing to let me in. Even just a little."
She stopped moving. "What do you think I'm doing right now?" There was just the slightest little laugh in her voice. "I'm not the easiest person to be around," she admitted.
"I hadn't noticed." He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees, and looked up at her behind a ruffled mop of hair. His voice was softer, "I'm not going to hurt you. Never on purpose."
She stood before him, not touching him but close enough that he could probably pull her closer. "I'll hurt you," she said, utterly honest. "Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes just to prove I can." It was horrible, but also true. "I don't trust in love and I don't really believe in relationships. I'll never call you anything but the man I'm with. I'll be cruel when I'm in a foul mood. I'll judge the people you know." Her voice was soft and strong at once. She looked into his eyes. "I'm a wretched bitch most of the time."
Scott gave her a knowing grin, "I know you're a bitch, Emma. I can tolerate it, or would I ever have invited you over? Just expect me to speak up when I feel you've crossed a line. You'll have to put up with the stick lodged firmly in my ass about some things."
She took a slow step toward him, smirking. "I'll tell you when you're being no fun."
“Probably more than I want to hear,” The man replied, his knowing grin only growing wider.
"Probably." She closed the gap between them with another step. It was so strange a thing, to think that they were actually going to work on having a relationship. Emma was nervous at the idea of it, but also intrigued as to where things would end up. Maybe everything would fall apart. Maybe it wouldn't. She planned to have fun in the meanwhile.
Emma rested her hands lightly on the top of his shoulders. "But I'll make it up to you." Her voice took on a velvety quality.
Scott pulled her down into his lap, kissing her. It lacked the burning passion from earlier, but made up for it with a slow, smoldering heat. It was his way of saying he believed her. That he was willing to accept the pain she was sure to give out, and forgive her for it.
She straddled him and kissed him back, her arms sliding around his neck. Emma felt an odd sense of deja vu, but ignored it. This was an easy enough thing to do in Scott's arms. They broke apart after a few minutes and Emma trailed rough kisses along his jawline to his neck. She slowed, gazing her lips over his earlobe. "Alright," she murmured into his ear. She was willing to try something different with him.
"Stay the night?" His voice was soft in her ear, his hands rough along her back.
She made a soft noise that was a mix of groan and sigh. It was after some hesitance that she responded. "Just this once." She pressed a kiss onto his throat.
Scott laid back, pulling her down with him. That was a start.