Disclaimer: The X-Men characters, and all other recognizable characters are copyright to Marvel Entertainment Group. This work of FanFiction is not meant to infringe on that copyright or defame Marvel Comics or the X-Men and related characters in any way.
Copyright: This work of FanFiction and the original characters described within are the intellectual property of K-NICE and her IRL persona. No copying, distributing or editing of this material is permitted without the express permission of the creator, K-Nice, under United States copyright law.
© K-Nice 1999
This isn't a fantasy. If it were, we'd be in a fancy hotel, eating caviar out of each other's belly buttons.
If this was a romance novel then he would reach out now, tear away my bodice and ravish me until we're both senseless. I've read enough romance novels to keep Harlequin in business by myself.
This is reality. I cradle his head in my lap. He stubbornly averts his red-black eyes, no matter how many times I force him to face me.
He hasn't spoken to me since we . . . separated. Now that we're together again, he remains silent. He is angry with me, ignoring me. I've done this to him but he always brings me around.
Here in the underground citadel built by Magneto, I know how to get his attention. I run my hands across his cheek. His cool, clammy skin is still sensual. He is beautiful-so pale, like an angel. A fallen angel. My fallen angel.
I press my lips to his forehead. Then, I kiss his nose, which is frostbitten but no longer bloody. His lips, oh his lips. They are rough, chapped but I savor the feeling of them against my own. I wish he could feel the smoothness of my mouth on the scoop of his neck, that line of hair down his chest, his firm (almost stiff) abdomen, his belly button. I want to pull the covers down and kiss the rest of him but that seems wrong.
I slide onto the pallet beside him, running my hands across his body, trying to feel his heart beat. Frustrated, I stop searching and cuddle against his shoulder.
His chest seems to heave, his lips almost quiver-but it is not enough. A tear rolls down my cheek, wetting his brow. "Are you dead, sugah, or just not interested? Wake up and love me. Please!"
In his answering silence, I clutch his cold body tighter to me. He seems heavier now.
I cry into his lank, frosted hair and press my body to his unyielding flesh. He's gone, and I'm left alone with reality.
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