By Bobbi Todd
Part Five
The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used here without their
permission.
Rated NC-17 for graphic sexual content, both consensual and non-consensual, as
well as for violence and offensive language. If you are under the legal age for
this sort of thing, then GET OUT!
With the girl sleeping in his arms, Victor Creed felt oddly content. And very
protective. He'd had women before, lots of them, and some of them had even stuck
around for a while. But none of them had made him feel the way this puny little,
half grown creature did. He couldn't say he loved her - hell, he didn't even
know her name, but he did want to keep her near him. She was no great beauty,
and after what had to have been months of near starvation, she sure didn't have
much in the way of curves, but she was the most ... satisfying fuck he'd ever
had.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, turning away from him, and he slipped his arm
out from under her. He got up without waking her and covered her with a blanket.
He stepped into his pants and opened the flap of the tent, moving outside
silently. The bitterly cold air bit at his bare skin, but he barely felt it.
The snowmobile had a tarp pulled over it, and two of the men were lashing the
blades of the helicopter down. The last of the supplies had been stowed away.
"Storm's comin' up, boss. Looks like we're stuck here for a while."
"Right. Let me know when it looks like its about ta break," Creed ordered. "The
runt's not stupid. He'll hole up until this blows over, an' I'll pick up his
trail then." He turned to go back into the tent.
"Will do," the man paused. "What about the girl?" Creed slowly turned back to
face the man, his claws unconsciously extended, his eyes cold and hard.
"What about her?" he asked, his voice nearly a growl.
"Uh, nothin'. Just wondered if ... she ... needed anything," the man stammered.
He'd seen Creed in a berserker fury, but this cold rage was somehow even
scarier.
"I'll take care o' her," Creed said quietly. "You worry about keepin' that bird
in one piece." He went inside, closing the tent flap securely against the rising
wind.
The man had been hoping that Creed would be willing to share the girl, passing
her around as he'd done in the past. Suddenly he wasn't interested any more. A
piece of ass wasn't worth getting killed over, and he had no doubt that he'd
only been a heartbeat away from having his guts ripped from his body. He
shuddered and turned back to the helicopter, tightening the rope he held.
Creed stood staring down at the girl, his skin still flushed with anger. Just
looking at her calmed him somewhat, but he would be damned if he would share
her. With anyone. Ever.
He quietly opened another beer and pulled the slowly cooling meal across the
table within easy reach. He opened the box and inhaled the aroma, savoring it as
only someone with enhanced senses could. He did wish they wouldn't use so damned
much MSG and preservatives, though.
He continued to watch the girl sleep while he ate. He'd wake her soon enough and
make sure she ate. He'd put some meat back on her bones. He could imagine what
she would feel like under him then, her skin sleek and hot, her body rounded in
all the right places..... He gave himself a small shake. If he kept up that line
of thought, he'd never get her fed.
The roaring of the wind awakened the girl several hours later, and she sat up
with a cry, clutching the blanket to her. She stared around the tent in fright,
then shrank back in on herself when she found Creed's hungry gaze locked on her.
'Now she's scared of me,' he thought to himself as he watched her. 'Shit, I just
can't win.'
"C'mere," he ordered, though his voice was softer than before. She flinched,
then put the blanket aside and tried to get to her feet. She was very weak, the
blood she had lost, and the hunger she felt, added to the sickness she had
barely survived, left her very little to work with. She cringed when he got up
and stood over her.
He gently helped her to her feet, smiling at the fear filled glance which was
all she dared. He picked up his discarded shirt and pulled the warm flannel
around her shivering form. He lifted her from her feet and sat down in the chair
with her in his lap, holding her like a child.
"I don't understand," she said, her voice quavering.
"You don't have to," he answered. "You need ta eat somethin'. Yer all skin an'
bones."
He opened a beer and pressed it into her hand. She started to tremble and had to
hold the can with both hands. The food she had heated earlier was cold, but it
was available. He reached into the container, tore off a small piece of the
meat, and offered it to her. She reached for it tentatively and nearly dropped
the beer. He steadied it for her as she clutched at the can.
"Easy, girl," he said and she cringed. "You just hang on ta that. I'll take care
o' this." He held the morsel so that all she had to do was lean forward and take
it in her mouth. Watching him fearfully, she accepted the offering from his
fingers. She chewed quickly, her eyes wide. He tore off another bite for her.
She swallowed and took it, less timidly this time. He fed her slowly, his other
arm comfortably around her waist.
He breathed deeply of her scent. She smelled of fear, though not as strongly
now. His own scent was easily detected, of course. Faintly, he could still smell
the runt on her as well. He'd make sure the little bastard never touched her
again. But underneath it all was a subtle, spicy something that he couldn't
identify. He only knew that he liked it.
Her tongue lightly touched his fingertips as she accepted the next bite and he
closed his eyes to savor the sensation. He leaned down and kissed her neck, just
below and behind her ear. She shivered, but didn't pull away.
He shifted her to ease the growing pressure at his crotch. She turned her head
toward him and swallowed convulsively, nearly choking. He tapped the beer can
with one claw, and she obediently took a drink.
He took the can from her and placed it on the table beside them. He tilted her
chin up and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips parted at the touch of his tongue
and he pulled her against him hungrily, tasting the sweetness of her mouth for a
long moment before releasing her reluctantly.
"You need ta eat more 'n I need ta fuck you," he told her, his breath warm on
her neck. "Eat. We got plenty o' time."
He continued to feed her, until she put her small hand on the back of his as he
reached for more.
"You finished?" She nodded. "Good," he said as he pulled her in for a deep and
lingering kiss. He wanted her, needed her. He wanted to feel her velvet heat as
he slid into her. He wanted to feel her breath on his throat as he plundered her
depths, her breasts soft against his chest. But more than anything, he wanted
her to want him.
He could take her anytime he wanted. He could have any woman he wanted, but
there was something different about this one. He was glad the weather had
turned. He wanted some time alone with her. Time to let her come to want him.
She offered no resistance when he lifted her and turned to the bed. She knew he
would hurt her again and just hoped she could keep from crying out. She'd seen
only the tip of his cruelty and didn't want to anger him. She'd give him
anything he wanted if it reduced the amount of pain she felt.
He put her down gently in the center of the bed and drew the blankets up over
her. He stroked her cheek, then straightened to his full height.
"Get some sleep, girlie. I'll be back in a little while." He left the tent then,
still wearing just his pants. The howling wind blew snow in through the open
tent flap for a moment before he secured it behind him. She stared at the
opening, completely baffled. She'd felt him grow hard while he fed her and had
expected him to take her again. But he hadn't. At least not yet. She waited for
him to return for quite a while before slipping into an uneasy doze. She was
unaware of the return of the fever which had nearly killed her a few weeks
before.
Playing poker with Victor Creed was a life lesson in and of itself. You damn
well played the cards straight, and prayed that he wouldn't be pissed enough to
kill you if he lost. You couldn't let him win either, though. The chopper pilot
had seen that happen once. It'd taken the poor idiot three days to die, and
every second of it had been personally attended to by Creed. No one was stupid
enough to try and intervene.
With this in mind, it was understandable that the four men weren't too happy
when Creed entered their tent, shirtless in the sub-zero weather, and decided to
join their game. Now it was just before sunrise, though you could only tell by
looking at a watch, the storm completely blotted out any trace of the warming
orb. Creed was down a few hundred, but didn't seem too annoyed. In fact, he
appeared distracted. Then the talk turned, again, to women. Specifically, the
girl in the next tent. The crew chief, after his aborted conversation with Creed
earlier, had tried to steer the others carefully around this topic. It had
worked for a while.
"So, boss, what d'ya got in mind fer the bit o' fluff ya got stashed next door?"
The junior member of the crew asked suddenly. He'd heard tales of Creed's
generosity with females ... at least once he was finished with them. The crew
chief cringed. Creed reached across the table and grabbed the young man by the
shirt and lifted him until his feet dangled above the floor of the tent.
"I'm gonna keep her, that's what I got in mind, pal. This one's mine." He shook
the man to emphasize his point. "That clear enough?" Wide-eyed and barely able
to breath, the youth squeaked.
"Yeah! Clear!" Creed dropped him, and without another word turned and left the
tent.
"What's with him?" the young man asked. The crew chief shrugged, and the four
men shakily went back to their game.
Creed stormed into his tent, determined to make the girl want him, tired of
waiting for her and thoroughly irritated at the other man's presumption that
he'd be offered her ... favors. She belonged to him, dammit, and nobody else was
gonna touch her. She slept, oblivious to the conflicting emotions and thoughts
raging through him.
He wanted to tear the blankets away from her body, hold her down, and fuck her
'til she screamed for mercy. He wanted her to hold her arms up to him, inviting
him into her so he could make love to her tenderly and listen to her call his
name in passion. He roared in rage caused by his confusion. But she didn't wake.
He fell to his knees beside her and reached for her gingerly. Her skin was hot
to his touch and he groaned, as much in disappointment as with a sudden surge of
concern. He shook her gently, but she didn't respond.
He never got sick. It was part of his mutant legacy, his healing factor. He'd
never bothered to take care of anyone. If they were too sick or too injured to
continue, they were abandoned. In his line of work, that was the only thing that
made sense. Every man for himself. But he wouldn't abandon her. And he didn't
know what to do. For the first time in a very long time, he was lost.
He lay down next to her, and pulled her into his arms, covering her with the
blankets. He held her and listened to her labored breathing for a long time
before sleep finally claimed him.
He woke to the sound of the girl's voice, murmuring nonsense. She was shivering
in his embrace, but her skin was hot and dry. She opened her eyes when he
shifted her so he could get her some water, but she wasn't seeing him.
He poured the water into a cup and slipped one arm beneath her shoulders. He
eased her into a sitting position, finding that he had to support her head as
well, and tried to get her to drink. He had to actually pour the water into her
mouth and hope that she swallowed some of it. After several minutes, he had
managed to get most of the water into her. She coughed weakly and looked up at
him, seeming to recognize him at last. He was surprised at how bad he felt when
she cringed.
"Please," she whispered. "Please don't hurt me." He pulled her against him,
stroking her hair.
"I won't, frail," he murmured soothingly. "I won't hurt you. I'm gonna take care
of you." He lowered her to the bed. "I'm gonna get ya to a doctor, girl. You
just take it easy." He pulled the blanket back up, covering her shivering form,
put the cup down, and left the tent, quickly sealing the flap behind him.
Outside, the storm still raged.
