Sabretooth: Another Auld Lang Syne – Vices and Virtues (Nepal)

Should old acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot
and auld lang syne?

We two have run about the slopes
and picked the daisies fine
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot
since auld lang syne

We two have paddled in the stream
from morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne

And there’s a hand my trusty friend
And give us a hand o’ thine
And we’ll take a right good-will draught
for auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear
for auld lang syne
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet
for auld lang syne

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup
and surely I’ll buy mine
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
for auld lang syne

~ Auld Lang Syne (Robert Burns, 1788)

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“Nature, who for the perfect maintenance of the laws of her general equilibrium, has sometimes need of vices and sometimes of virtues, inspires now this impulse, now that one, in accordance with what she requires.” ~ Marquis de Sade

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Fresh from another successful hunt, Victor Creed bumped foreheads with the snow leopard and left the rest of their kill to her and her family. It was tempting to stay, since her cubs had accepted him and they were a riot, but a man had many needs and several of his were tugging at him.

The cabin he was renting in the foothills of a mountain at the edge of a little village was well-stocked. After starting a fire to warm it and bringing in plenty of logs to keep it fed through the night, he left and stalked through the falling snow to the only pub within a few thousand miles.

From the moment he opened the door, the warmth, sounds, smells, and sights of one of the most rustic and backwards places on earth assaulted his hyper-senses. Taking in a deep whiff to revel in the smoke, sweat, booze, and filth of the taproom that time forgot, he froze as a strangely familiar scent hit him.

Moving to the bar, he turned and leaned against it to scan the room. In a back shadowy corner and bundled head to toe, a woman sat. Not one of the local patrons paid any attention to her, probably because that’s how she wanted it.

“Whiskey,” he said when the smell of the barkeep came closer. He held up three fingers and three bottles were set next to him. Local rotgut but not bad. “Two glasses, huh?”

He snagged it all and carted it off to the back corner table.

“Tea … figures – wanna li’l Long Island in that, Red?”

Green eyes in a pale face lifted to meet his gaze, a delicate frown line appearing between the red sculpted brows.

“Creed – of course I’d run into you in a god-forsaken hut like this.”

“Well if’n ya were hopin’ fer Santa Claus, yer almost a week too late an’ a shit-ton o’ clicks off course. Bet ya can settle, though – ‘sides, I’m more fun.” He sat across from her with his back to the wall and shook his head at her. “Back t’ tha whole room, guess ya figure ya can handle this place easy, huh?”

“Yes, including you.”

“I’m here fer a snort an’ t’ bring my supplies back t’ my digs – yer just a sight fer sore eyes too odd-ball t’ ignore. What tha hell ya doin’ here?”

“I was enjoying some peace and quiet.”

Victor snorted. “If’n yer gonna call tha din in this hole ‘quiet’, ya might need yer ears checked.” He opened the first bottle and poured a few fingers into both glasses. Picking up one, he held it poised for a toast. “Fer auld lang syne, an’ all that happy horseshit.”

A range of expressions crossed her face until a slight smile won out. Lifting the other glass, she clinked it against his.

“For auld lang syne,” she repeated in a whisper, and drank. She didn’t wince.

He leaned back against the wall and stretched his long legs out under the table. It was a subtle but calculated invasion of space, which she ignored.

Downing the booze, he poured more, but she shook her head and kept her glass when he tipped it her way. Swirling the amber liquid in his glass, he smirked at her.

“So, I always wanted t’ ask ya this – did it hurt when ya fell from heaven?”

“Pick-up lines? I thought you were capable of wit.”

“That’s a legit question, Red. Fer starters, last I heard any scrap o’ news ‘bout ya, it was that ya were dead – again. Who was tha lucky sod? I’m guessin’ he bit it – probly on claws, am I right?”

“His real name was Xorn, posing as Magneto – and yes, Logan killed him … after.”

“Huh. Sorry I missed it. Still an’ all, don’t suck t’ see ya; I been in tha wind an’ hard at work, barely seen a member o’ tha spandex union in nearly a year. Grapevine says One-Eye went an’ shacked up with tha Ice Queen; that’s gotta smart. So how’s tha fireplug doin’, still angsty, or glad as a puppy yer back?”

“I haven’t been back. I don’t wish to talk about them – or about Logan.”

“Lady’s Choice, then, if’n ya don’t wanna jaw ‘bout old flames.” The look of loss that she tried to hide told him plenty.

“Why are you here?”

“Visitin’ a friend an’ ‘er family – furry friend, out there.” He waved a hand at the wall beside them. “We went on a hunt. She’s doin’ really good, an’ ‘er cubs just fuckin’ slay me. Natch, they love their Uncle Victor. Cats o’ a feather stick t’gether.”

“I admit, I expected to hear you had a criminal reason.”

“Tsk, tsk. I’m on a mini-vacation. Gotta cabin up tha mountain a bit.”

“Are the people who lived there still alive?”

“Believe it or not, yeah – paid ‘em a helluva lot t’ go bunk with relatives fer a while.”

A burst of yelling and laughter from the middle of the taproom caught his attention. Nearly the whole village was there, betting on a drinking match. The table was littered with shot glasses and stacks of empties pushed off to the side.

“Don’t let me interrupt your plans for the evening.”

“Naw, not in tha mood fer a remake o’ Indiana Jones t’night. I’d rather reminisce.”

He felt the odd buzz of a telepathic probe attempt to enter his mind, and then felt it shatter. Keeping his poker face on, he emptied his glass again.

“I bet yer not plannin’ t’ stay here, but just so’s ya know – we’re due fer a bad blizzard.”

“I plan to go to Kathmandu.”

“Oh, now yer just bein’ cruel. Didn’t need that earworm bangin’ ‘round in my head.”

Her smile and her scent both warmed, but he knew it wasn’t for him.

“No offense to Bob Seger.”

“Got no beef with ‘im. Ain’t gonna be no kinda weather t’ fly in, though, that’s fer damn sure. Ya’d be an X-sicle after ‘bout fifteen minutes, Jeannie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She turned her head to watch the crowd and her scent slowly changed once more. When she finished her drink and he refilled it, she drank it down again.

“If Logan were here, he’d be right in that mess.”

“Sure – after jackin’ with my evenin’ fer tha hell o’ it.”

“Don’t you usually attack him first?”

“Sometimes. Thought ya didn’t wanna jaw ‘bout ‘im though.”

Jean met his gaze and stared back at him for a long while. He didn’t speak but drank more booze to keep the restlessness at bay. When she spoke again, her voice sounded flat, distant.

“I want to see Namche Bazaar, Everest, and the Tengboche Monastery, too. Nepal is beautiful. Thank you for the drink – it’s been … surreal.”

“Ya got tha nicest way o’ sayin’ ‘hit tha road’ I ever heard – way nicer’n yer runt paramour.” He hauled himself to his feet with a smooth grace that seemed to surprise her. “I’ll leave ya this bottle; gonna need tha heat if’n yer serious ‘bout flyin’ in this shit. I can hear it gearin’ up now.”

She didn’t reply until he’d turned away. “Goodbye, Creed.”

“See ya, Jeannie. Be safe, don’t hit a mountain.”

Holding both bottles in one hand by their necks, he walked out and into the storm. It wasn’t too bad yet, but began to get dodgy in a hurry. By the time he reached the cabin, it would be full-blown chaos.

As he started up into the foothills, he grinned at the feeling of a second probe shattering at the edge of his thoughts. He could hear and scent her – and the smell of the woman made his blood warm in his veins. He stopped and turned, amused that she couldn’t find him. He waited until she was close.

“Get lost already? Sky’s upward, ya know.”

She twitched and put her gloved hands up, bottle dangling from one, but didn’t cry out or curse. The whiff of telekinetic power he’d almost gotten hit with made the pair of bottles clank in his fingers.

“I can’t fly in this; that’s why I came here, to get out of it.”

“Do tell.” Flashing a grin at her, he turned and continued up the densely forested slope. “Welcome t’ bunk with me ‘til it clears – but yer gettin’ tha couch.”

It was a testament to her fitness and strength that she managed to follow him in the white dark. When he opened the cabin door and the firelight hit the snow, she gasped behind him. She probably hadn’t even seen it hiding between the trees.

“Wipe yer feet, this is somebody’s home an’ I happen t’ like tha owners.” He let her in and shut and bolted the door. “Hmm… Gonna need t’ duct tape tha windows, but tha door seals pretty damn nice.”

He let her stand at the wood-burning stove in the tiny kitchen and moved around her to get his backpack. She eyed him as he crossed the room ripping duct tape from the roll.

“Like this would work on ya? Cold got in yer brain, huh?”

Victor opened the homemade patchwork curtains that hung on wires, taped up the edges of the two windows, and tossed the tape roll back into the open backpack. He closed the curtains to keep more of the warm in. The green and white plaid sections of them made him smirk – Granny had put his last ruined shirt to good use.

“I forgot Logan’s claw lobotomy effectively negated the ability of a telepath to invade your mind or track you by it.”

Turning to face her, he let the smirk stay. “Very effectively. Funny thing t’ forget when ya run after tha likes o’ me off int’ tha deep dark woods.”

“I don’t waste much time thinking about you.”

Victor chuckled. “Suits me fine, Red. Suits me even better ya can’t control my poor battered brains, neither. Now let’s pretend I remember ya can still flatten me with yer TK an’ try t’ act like civilized mutants. Glad t’ see ya brought tha bottle – two wasn’t gonna cut it, not if I’m sharin’. Ya can set it on what passes fer a coffee table in this country, if’n yer tired o’ stranglin’ it.”

Frowning, she moved to put it down next to the others and returned to the stove.

“How is it so warm in here?”

“Had tha stove an’ fireplace goin’ before I left t’ get booze. Gonna feel warmer once ya shake tha outside off. Anythin’ ya wanna shed can serve fer a pillow. I bogarted tha rest fer readin’ in bed.”

He shrugged out of his overcoat, tossed it over the back of the threadbare armchair, and then sat to ditch his heavy boots. Claws popped from his toes as he stretched them.

“Adamantium…” she whispered.

“Yup. Damn shit is like catchin’ a cold, or so I assume – every now an’ then I gotta put up with bein’ sluggish fer a while. Ice skatin’s right out.”

“I’m not sure that made sense.”

“Keep gettin’ it stuffed in me an’ then ripped outta me, then stuffed in again. Has its pros, I guess, but tha cons are a nick in my speed an’ my jump distance. It slows down tha healin’ factor, too. Gotta be mindful o’ tha extra weight in most things I do – can be a damn nuisance. Ain’t been my choice, really, but I play tha cards I’m dealt.” He looked up to find her staring again, her expression distant. “Ya hearin’ ghosts, Red?”

“Yes.”

“Have a seat. I could use tha comp’ny. Wanna ‘nother snort?”

“No, I’ve had enough.” She looked around the dimly lit cabin. “You probably don’t have a bathroom.”

“Naw, I go out in tha cold an’ shit in tha woods like a bear. When in Rome.” He laughed outright when her eyes widened in alarm. “Pullin’ yer leg, ya know. That blanket on tha wall ain’t decoration, it’s tha way t’ tha li’l mutant’s room. Part o’ tha cabin’s in tha rock, though, so it’s pretty much a glorified frozen outhouse – an’ not too glorified at all, matter o’ fact.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Make yerself at home. I won’t bite – lessen ya ask real nice.”

She moved to the couch and took off her gloves, stuffing them in the pockets of her thick coat. When she took off the hat and coat, the flood of long red hair was finally visible. It smelled like sun on snow.

“I know you can smell it.”

“Freshly washed last in somethin’ with rose an’ lavender in it … yup.”

She pinned him with that focused stare again. “I don’t mean my hair. You can smell what I want. You know it’s why I followed you. Our mutual friend told me once that wanting something and allowing something to happen are not the same thing.”

“He ain’t my friend, Red. Ya got me at a disadvantage an’ we both know it, so quit tha posturin’ an’ grab a seat. Estás en tu casa, got it? Ya’d die – again – tryin’ t’ fly in this storm, so relax. I’m just after a chat, lessen ya decide ya want somethin’ else. Let’s just say I keep my options open, but I am house trained – when I care t’ be.”

“A chat. Why do you like the people who live here? I assume they ‘like’ you, or perhaps they had little choice in renting their home?”

“Government fella that agreed t’ take on tha snow leopard I rescued, on tha promise that I’d avoid causin’ trouble out here – his grandparents live here. I built tha cabin, though – built it fer ‘em. ‘Parently I’m crap at shimmin’ windows proper, but duct tape works.”

Jean was silent, but she was listening intently. It was hard to determine if she believed him or not, but he certainly couldn’t drag Granny out of bed to prove his claims.

Thinking about the old woman, her family, and the villagers – their warm welcome and acceptance of him at all hours without notice half the time – nearly made him growl over Jean’s natural mistrust. Remembering she had her reasons was all that helped him maintain a friendly face, but he couldn’t keep all the offense out of his tone.

“Point o’ fact, those tiny li’l backward mountain goats do like me. They’re at their daughter’s place across tha village an’ tha granny likes t’ cook fer me. Brought down meat fer ‘em when I got here – half tha village got fed. Probly end up feedin’ tha other half before I leave. These people ain’t got zip t’ fear from me, Red.”

“Hearing you talk is messing with my head.” She shifted to sit perched on the edge of the couch, and watched him.

Hard as hell t’ read that porcelain face. Here I thought she was suspicious, but she’s just fangirlin’ on tha accent. “Not gonna ‘pologize fer soundin’ like a sawed-off ex I happen t’ hate tha pink steamin’ guts o’. Guess yer just gonna hafta deal with it.”

“I’m not sure if I have anything more to say to you, Creed.”

“Call me Victor, fer starters; known me long ‘nuff, ain’t ya? We’ve had us some good ol’ times.”

“I prefer ‘Creed’.”

“Knock yerself out with it, then. Just keep in mind who o’ us is tryin’ t’ be cordial, here.”

His eartips twitching in annoyance, he reached for one of the full bottles, twisted it open, and dropped the cap on the rickety little table. Upending it, he chugged it halfway. Wiping his lips on the sleeve of his plaid shirt, he set it down and took off his wool hat.

Well aware it was a lure – most women, especially ones with hair like hers, were attracted to his – he pulled the band out of his hair, leaned forward, and shook it out before sitting back again. The band went onto his wrist.

“Thank you for letting me in. I know you didn’t have to. I wasn’t wild about spending the night in the pub.”

It sounded like a mini consession speech, as if someone had told her not to be rude. He ignored the irritation it dredged up. Her kind were used to treating him like trash they were tired of stepping over.

Determined to let her be the bigger asshole, he simply responded, “Yer welcome.”

Jean noticed the small stack of books on the other end of the couch, and picked them up.

“A John Sandford thriller?”

“If ya ain’t read ‘im, yer missin’ out.”

“A clinical textbook on mental disorders and trauma…”

He met her raised eyebrow with narrowing eyes, his ears pinning, before schooling his features into a slight smirk with a bit of effort.

Like she dunno yer brains’re scrambled? Game face, motherfucker. “A real man does what he can t’ better ‘isself, don’t he.”

“Quotes? A book of famous and obscure quotes… A very eclectic reading stack.”

Jean opened the quotes book and skimmed a few pages, likely not going to miss the ones he’d marked over with a yellow highlighter in a fit of moody boredom in Paris.

“‘It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure.’ The infamous Marquis de Sade.”

“My muse.”

“I’m sure. This is apt – ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ William Shakespeare.”

“Ol’ Billy has ‘is merits, but I only like t’ read Macbeth. Page 109, fourth down, that’s a fave.”

She flipped the pages. “‘Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all – ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.’ Your muse again.”

“Lust is a bitch, darlin’.”

She glanced up at him sharply, frowning.

“Lemme guess, ya don’t want me callin’ ya that, neither?”

“No, I want to hear that – just not from you.”

“Soon as tha storm clears, Westchester, New York’s thatta way.” He pointed with the bottle he had reclaimed. “Fireplug might could be there, might not. He’s a globe-hopper like me, as ya know.”

He slid into a sprawling slouch, letting his growing erection show in his jeans. Her scent had woken it up, and the more he talked, the more pheromones she dumped in the air.

“Chasin’ that cur could take ya a long time.”

“I can’t do that to him; he’s moved on, they all have.”

Victor chuckled. “Don’t be an idiot; he’d drop any skirt alive t’ run an’ grab yer brass ring. Queen o’ ‘is fuckin’ world, ain’t ya?”

“I wouldn’t stay, I couldn’t.”

Slow up before she bolts, dumbass. Gotta finesse tha bitch in heat, gotta coax. Ya know she likes it wild, but that don’t mean she’s gonna let ya lick ‘er neck t’ get ‘er t’ crouch an’ spread. ‘Sides, this cunt’s always been a bit scared o’ tha things she wants – goals or dicks, no diff’rence. She’s playin’ tough, sure – but that’s part mask.

Jean finally looked away from his stare, civilized in spades and unaware it was a challenge she had just lost. Yet he didn’t mind letting her have the reins – if it got him laid.

Time fer a tactics change. “Ya still doin’ tha hero gig, or did ya hang yer X-togs up fer good?”

She visibly relaxed more, and the abrupt anxiety over the runt topic faded. Victor dusted off and pasted on his best polite smile.

“I help where I can, where I know … that I can help. I stay away from them. They don’t know … I’m back. I want it to stay that way.”

“I won’t kiss an’ tell. Seems t’ me tha solitary life don’t suit ya much.”

“Same as you, often enough.”

Now that there was almost a challenge. Okay, if ya wanna play. Buckle up, frail. “True, but I’m better at it. Still, it’s probly fer tha best. Tha fireplug wouldn’t never be content t’ play fuck buddy while yer footloose an’ fancy free. He’d wanna build a white picket fence, get matchin’ tattoos, or some shit. Whatever Feral Vogue tells ‘im is in this year.”

“Are you sure we know the same Logan?” she asked, her tone haughty. Even so, her heat had spiked again.

“Yup. Hey, ya just got loose o’ tha tyranny o’ marriage, I say enjoy it – but there’s a price t’ pay, screwin’ ‘im on tha regular in tha open, just like there’s a price t’ screwin’ ‘im on tha down-low. Bet yer gonna refuse t’ confirm or deny that, huh? May as well, can’t smell ‘im on ya now, anyhow.”

“I would have thought that would appeal to you more.”

“Which part?”

“My … not … smelling like him.”

“It’s def an improvement, darlin’, not gonna lie. Fact is, ya wouldn’t be here with me if’n ya didn’t feel all nostalgic ‘bout ‘is brutish puppy love.” Bingo. There it is. C’mon bitch – spread.

She rose from the couch and stepped away from it. “What do you smell now?”

“Air before a thunderstorm, almost – an’ ya want some dick. Fresh outta runt dick, darlin’, all I got’s mine.”

“It will have to do.”

“Hmm…” A growl thrummed in his throat as he climbed to his feet to stand a foot taller than her. “Know yer used t’ lookin’ down on ‘im, but I ain’t got none o’ that, neither.”

“Syntax, accent, awful grammar, even idioms – only the crude language is different.”

“Only diff’rent cuz he minds ‘is Ps an’ Qs ‘round tha snatch that owns ‘is li’l battered heart.”

Victor let a slow tug of his lips bloom into a wide fanged grin as his claws began to slide out.

Point o’ no return, yeah… Slit that wet, skirt needs a dickin’ so bad, she don’t even care what’s on tha other end o’ that fuck stick. “How ya want it, Red? I don’t do soft.”

“I want it my way. Strip, Creed.”

“Ooo, this is gonna be fun, I can tell. Did ya forget yer whip an’ corset? Left ‘em hangin’ on tha pearly gates?”

“I’m waiting.”

“Heh. Fuckin’ females – God, I love ‘em bossy.”

He unbuttoned and stripped off the plaid flannel slow just to see if she’d get impatient, but her poker face was on now – the game was on. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and dropped them both at his feet. Clicking the heavy metal belt buckle of a fanged skull and pulling the belt out of his way, he unfastened the buttonfly on his jeans and let them hang open. He never wore underwear and his cock tried to escape.

“So ya wanna show, huh?”

“Why not? I could just read, of course – if I get bored.”

Victor snorted. “Fuckin’ females…” he muttered.

Hooking the belt loops with two careful fingers, he yanked the jeans down and stepped out of them to stand proudly before her.

“Guess tha dick don’t mind yer tongue; that’s a hint, if’n yer so inclined.”

“I’m not.”

She studied him as if wondering if she wanted to purchase him. It made the growl start up again. She had the sense to approach slowly, but he could feel the static of her telekinesis rising in the air as she grew ready to defend herself if she had to.

Jean began to step slow around him, and then her hand touched his shoulder and dragged an exploratory stroke around to his back. The fingers toyed for a moment with the long curling blond hair that had started to grow past his ass.

Victor grunted when she moved the thick curtain of hair to cup and caress his ass. Her palm stroked along the slowly rising hackles of longer fur that ran over his spine most of the way down his back. A fingernail scratched lightly in the golden fur at the end of his tailbone, making his thick cock twitch and grow almost painfully harder in a few thudding heartbeats.

Her silent appraisal could have become unsettling, which would have courted real anger, but as she stepped back in front of him, she smiled and retreated a few feet.

When she gripped the edge of her sweater and a shirt under it and hauled it all over her head, his lip lifted as he scented her again. The string-strap undershirt was black and the bra straps were white. She left them on and opened her belt and jeans instead.

Be still my beatin’ loins, tha panties ain’t gotta X on ‘em. Can ya hear me, Jeannie, ya fuckin’ psi-cunt? Bet not. Bet it bugs ya all t’ hell, too. Better not be teasin’ me, bitch. Ya gotta sleep sometime, rest o’ this year or tha next.

“I can’t hear your thoughts,” she told him as the jeans went down. “I can feel you practically daring me to try. How many of the words are four letters?”

“Only a few, darlin’. Gonna lemme eat that, since it got so nice an’ wet fer me?”

“If you’re going down on your knees, you can take off my boots first. Slice anything living or dead on me and I will punch you across the room.”

“Kinda hard t’ tell which is which on ya by now, ain’t it?”

She ignored the barb and watched him, silent and imperious. It made him want to wipe the look off her face, with tongue or claws, but he wanted that pussy more. As he sank, slow and graceful to his knees before her, he breathed in deep to get her smell all the way down to the bottom of his lungs. Her hand touched his shoulder for balance as he sheathed the claws to wrestle off the boots and strip off the socks.

The soft growl erupted from his chest as he leaned in, saliva beginning to drip from the protruding fangs in his lower jaw. She let him stare at her crotch as her fingers peeled the white cotton panties away and dropped them on the heap of her clothes. She set her feet apart, displaying herself and the bright red stripe of curling, perfectly sculpted hair. She was holding her breath and her power crackled, making the thicker and longer hair on his forearms and chest start to stand up.

Mastering himself as long as he could, he looked up and met her gaze staring down.

“Gotta bit t’ tell ya before ya lemme at that thing. Wanna hear it? Could save ya a lot o’ grief.”

“Is this where you plan to promise to use protection – because you’re concerned about my health and well-being?”

“Fuck no – ain’t never muzzled my dick in my life an’ not gonna start fer tha likes o’ ya.”

“I’m reasonably sure you’re clean of STDs, as am I, and I’m on birth control.”

“Hardee har. I figured out somethin’ – why I probly can’t smell tha runt on yer pussy, no matter how often ya let ‘im fuck it. Play coy all ya want, but I know ya did, cuz ya ain’t one lick scared o’ me but yer anxiety spikes every time ya try t’ imply it ain’t true. I can’t smell ‘im on ya cuz it’s a new body. So here’s some advice: hope ya mean it ‘bout playin’ keep away with ‘im, at least ‘til ya end up dead again a while. Nothin’ less is gonna mask from ‘im that ya lemme climb on ya an’ ya might be surprised how far that’d go t’ changin’ ‘is mind ‘bout ya – li’l battered cur heart or not.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take my risks, same as you.”

“Gotta simple solution fer tha prob – lemme kill ya after we fuck. Ya get tha new body, free o’ my scent, an’ ya’d be able t’ spread fer ‘im again in no time.”

“I’ll pass on dying again, for now. So if you could smell him on me, it wouldn’t bother you?”

“Shit no. Ya kiddin’? I got me a fetish fer ‘is sloppy seconds – more he cares ‘bout ‘em tha better. Brass ring like ya? I’d fuck ya through ‘is crusty jizz.”

“Creed?”

He smirked up at her. “Yeah, darlin’?”

“Haven’t you got something better to do with your filthy mouth?”

“Damn straight, I fuckin’ do.”

Victor’s tongue struck her body first before his fingers grasped her hips and she gasped with heat. His claws slid free again and pricked her, the telekinesis making his skin tingle.

“Gonna lemme eat in peace?”

“Mind the sharps.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His grin was obscene as he put his mouth to her and made her lose that imperious face in mere seconds under his suckling mouth and lashing and thrusting tongue. Her responses told him a lot, and he felt his own heat creep into his bones with each new nugget of truth he discovered.

Her body was so hungry, his relentless assault made her come twice in rapid-fire. She didn’t melt, though – didn’t lose control one inch.

The telekinesis enveloped him slow, sparking a low warning growl. He sucked his tongue back into his mouth himself, but her power pushed his hands to his thighs.

“That’s quite enough of that, thank you,” she remarked, as if chastising an errant schoolboy.

Victor tried to settle on a vicious taunt or insult, but the touch of her fingers on his unruly sideburn froze his tongue.

“I didn’t think it would be soft.”

“Surprise, surprise, darlin’. Most o’ me is downright kitten-y soft – ‘cept fer tha dick ya said ya wanted.”

“All in good time. How long can this blizzard last?”

“Got no clue. Could be clear t’morrow, or could bury us in snow fer tha next three days.”

Jean stepped back from him and pulled off her undershirt. As the bra followed it, he felt his dick twitch again and throb, eager and needy. The breasts were every bit of magnificent he’d always figured they would be.

One fingertip under his scruffy chin pressed into his skin. “Stand up, Creed – so I don’t have to make you.”

Growling, he stood in one smooth fluid movement. “Ain’t whupped like yer cur. Got limits t’ my patience, Jeannie.”

“You’d probably enjoy it if I pinned you to the bed and just took what I want from you. Wouldn’t you?”

The growl modulated instantly from anger to lust. “Shit – yer probly right ‘bout that.”

“Nature calls. I’d like another drink – just to keep you busy.”

She walked off nude and headed for the hanging blanket. He had to struggle not to wolf whistle; the ass was just as sweet as the spandex always promised.

“If’n ya’d like it on tha rocks, snap off an icicle while yer in tha john.”

He went to the kitchen and rummaged to find a suitable glass. Hooking one of the bottles as he passed it, he went to sit on the bed.

Victor wasn’t surprised when she took forever. Why females spent ages in the john was largely a mystery, but it had to be some universal gender imperative because nearly all of them did it. He had always believed they ate toilet paper, too – it was the only explanation that made sense.

As she returned, she shivered and stopped at the fireplace first to warm up again.

“Ya could bring that shapely ass over here an’ thaw ‘em nips.” Chuckling, he added, “Did tha icebox outhouse shock ya mute? Gotta say, I’m fine with that. Females oughta be fucked an’ not heard – lessen they’re screamin’ my name … or just screamin’.”

Not rising to the bait, she approached as she continued to study him.

“I’m in shock that you actually have toilet paper.”

“Seen yer share o’ sad li’l cardboard rolls in bachelor pads? I woulda guessed that weren’t yer style. Did ya ever just tear offa piece o’ tha cardboard an’ say ‘fuck it’? Or used a handy centerfold layin’ ‘bout on tha sticky floor?”

“That’s disgusting, and no.”

“This here’s grandma’s house, Red – got all tha lady touches ya’d want ‘cept heat in tha john. Guess that makes me tha big bad wolf?”

He poured booze into the glass and handed it to her. She took it and sat on the bed near him, downing half of it.

“Lie down on your back.”

Victor arched an eyebrow at her and frowned, not moving one inch.

She smiled and added, “You like bossy women, I believe?”

“Gonna be tha death o’ one o’ us, ya keep irritatin’ me.” He took a long pull on the bottle, set it inside the box cubby of the headboard next to his smokes, and lay down beside her. Pulling his arms up, he pillowed them behind his head.

“Hold still.”

He grunted when she tipped the glass over his chest and stomach and spilled the whiskey on him in a line right down to his golden pubes.

“Sticky fur, my fave.”

Jean set the glass upside-down over a nipple and leaned over him, one fist by his ribs.

“Shut up, Creed.”

“Why should I? We both know my dulcet voice is what got ya wet fer absent friends.”

As her tongue began to lick and lap at the whiskey on his body, he hissed. His hands shot up, the claws piercing into the thick hardwood over his head.

“Shuttin’ up now. Holy fuck…”

“I’m not sure you’re capable of being quiet.”

“Diarrhea o’ tha mouth, that’s me. Keep that up an’ ya can have tha treasure at tha end o’ that trail.”

“Uncut and imposing … don’t mind if I do.”

“Just right fer a nostalgia fuck, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm…”

She licked the booze away, now and then pausing to pluck a hair off her tongue. When she glared up at him after the third one, he winked at her.

“Gotta be used t’ that too. Did ya fuck in tha HQ, or did ya meet tha runt in one o’ those dives he takes ‘is best gals t’?”

“On a mission… Later, it was in the Danger Room, and then in its control room. My room at the school, his room… There was a dive or two, and in the gardens.”

“Sweet. Nice that ya got ‘nuff practice before now on tha sample size. Time t’ see if ya can handle tha real deal.”

Jean raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t reply, and then moved to straddle his hips and pinned his cock down with her wet pussy. As she worked her hips to caress his shaft with her slick, he felt a twinge of loss that quickly twisted in his gut, surprising him. The telepath noticed the change with a speed that nearly made him snarl.

“Problem?”

He glared up at her. “Not a one. Gonna hop on or what? Tha next Ice Age could get here before ya actually fuck me.”

For a moment, he could smell lavender and sage – but the woman perched over his body, doing what Bonnie had done, had the scents of lavender and rose. She was also alive, no matter how many times she had died. Jean Grey was a phoenix, more than just in name, and Bonnie … was not.

Dead an’ gone, girl. Ya go on back t’ sleep now. Got ‘nuff ghosts hauntin’ me already…

“Don’t be a little bitch, Creed.”

Victor almost twitched as Jean’s scoffing words pulled him back to the present. He laughed to dispel the disorienting loss that had crept into his head and tried to nest there.

“So it’s gonna be like that, is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

Her movements made those breasts bob and sway – a perfect distraction.

Victor grinned and pulled his claws out of the wood to reach for her breasts, retracting them just as they got there. An exploratory squeeze was met with a moan.

“Harder.”

“Jump on an’ I’ll obey, Red.”

Hissing when she did it, he watched, entranced, as she circled her hips to swallow him steadily down like a basket capturing a snake. He didn’t hit bottom inside her and she took every inch without a whimper until she was fully seated on him.

Victor’s breath caught, the muscles of his abdomen clenching. Shit… Ain’t been buried this deep inside since…

Memory smoked into his brain once more but the scent was wrong, and abruptly he felt the ache in his fingers of the claws fighting instinct to remain sheathed. With an involuntary gasp, he began to breathe again, unaware he’d been holding his breath.

“Nothing to say, Mr. Creed?”

He swallowed hard before he could make words, finding the first ones to come along that hid his whirling thoughts.

“I hate that sawed-off fuckin’ runt o’ yers?”

The glass toppled off his chest to the bed as she began to move. She had no trouble using her long legs to mutual advantage. When he did knead her breasts harder, she reciprocated by rippling her vaginal muscles and gripping his cock with them in rhythm with his groping squeezes. It wound his body up nicely and turned his breathing into sharp huffs.

Pushing away both confusion and memory before she sensed his distraction again, he retreated into the safer territory of crass humor.

“Good thing ya don’t want me t’ kiss an’ tell, cuz I’d hafta quit tauntin’ ‘im ‘bout turnin’ ‘isself int’ yer li’l bitch-boy.”

Her hands poised on her hips as she used just her legs to rise and fall.

“Does that mean you might be my new little bitch-boy?”

“Ooo, I like tha filthy in yer mouth. Wanna really make my day, call me yer cunt an’ slap me ‘round a bit.”

“That would involve me caring about your fun.”

“Oh, I’m havin’ my fun, Jeannie.”

Living dangerously, yet aching to play with this exquisite toy, he grabbed her wrists and hips in his large hands and bucked his hips up hard on her down-stroke.

She gasped and he was surprised when she laughed a moment later. “Oh, my – do that more.”

“Gonna lemme flip ya over at some point? I’m a natural top, ya know.” He grinned fiercely as her muscles almost stopped his next shove upward.

“No, thank you, I’m quite comfortable up here.”

“Where’d ya get that constrictor in yer koochie?”

“From fucking the Wolverine.”

“Ya don’t say. Damn if he does gotta use after all.” Victor threw his head back and groaned. “Aww, fuck, Jeannie … ya want this over quick or ya wanna longie? Cuz if’n it’s tha latter, we gotta switch up or yer gonna make me blow early doin’ that.”

“Let go.”

He moved his hands and sucked his bottom lip into his teeth when she dismounted. He scooted over, expecting her to lie on her back, and stared when she got on all-fours and looked down at him.

“Fuck. I knew tha coal in my stockin’ was just a prank.”

Victor moved fast to slip behind her ass and leaned down to stroke the breasts as they hung waiting to be pinched. Rising up, he set his fingers on her smooth perfect cheeks and gently pulled them open to see the deliciously white winking starfish muscle he’d give his eyeteeth to fuck.

“Try that and you’ll land on top of the pub.”

He sighed. “Ya bleach that thing, or what?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Guess ya probly shit snow, huh?” Chuckling, he gripped his cock and shoved it roughly back into her slick pussy. “Hoo, yeah…!”

“Are you capable of biting the back of a neck without piercing the skin?”

“Maybe, if’n ya lay off tha kegel shit. Long as we’re playin’ ‘What Would Logan Do’, anythin’ else ya wanna add t’ tha menu?”

“That’s probably enough.”

Victor snorted. “If ya get pissy, don’t break Granny’s house.”

“I’ll do my best – for her sake.”

Solely to irritate the bitch, he stopped thrusting and smirked at the tiny moan of protest she tried to smother. The intensity of her heat made the pause difficult to do, but it was worth every second.

“Still an’ all, lemme know if’n ya want me t’ fake givin’ a shit ‘bout ya past gettin’ my balls drained. Happy t’ play along, in tha spirit o’ yer nostalgia screw.”

“Bite and screw now, annoy me later.”

He growled low before he sucked in a breath and thrust into her deep. Stretching out his long back, he opened his fangs as she moved her hair. His jaw ached to drop down and take her whole neck in his mouth, but he forced himself to keep it a play bite.

Beneath him, she writhed, betraying a lot of her past liaisons with her behavior, as she had before.

I’d bet good money that ‘er first solid rough fuck with a feral blew ‘er damn mind after years o’ that ass-kissin’ Boy Scout an’ ‘is mincin’ an’ simperin’ ways. Now me an’ ‘er both know she’s a straight-up feral groupie – ain’t just ‘bout wantin’ tha runt. Does he know? Cuz I really wanna be tha one t’ tell tha bastard. Fuck… That makes this motherfuckin’ sweet snatch even tastier.

Victor put one hand on her shoulder to help control his bite, and the other groped and squeezed her breasts underneath, pinching the nipples as he began to thrust harder.

He almost lost it when she came in ripples around his dick, but with a growl over her skin in his mouth, he started to change up his speed, angle, and rhythm to mix up his body’s sensations and hold off.

“Oh, God, you do that too…” she murmured, and came again.

Challenged, he shot for three before he knew he had to give in. Her arms went weak and he used his playing hand to hold her up, lifted her bodily and landed back on his haunches, shoving her down on his cock as it blew.

Teeth still on her neck, he felt them pierce her when she arched her back and then slammed herself against his body. He removed his fang tips fast but gently. Half waiting for the telekinetic punch, he grinned when it didn’t hit.

Victor kissed the tiny punctures and licked at the thin little smears of blood. The taste of her burned deliciously on his tongue. His purring growl sounded at her ear and he smirked when she shivered.

“Remember when ya had me on tha ropes in Chuck’s dungeon, before yer lap dog lobotomized me? When ya beat me down with yer TK an’ put me in my place?”

Gasping in his arms, she whispered, “I do. I remember being afraid of myself, not of you – afraid I’d go too far.”

“Too far fer me is way past yer limits. Ya let up right as I started havin’ fun, darlin’. Mmm, yeah…” He nuzzled at her neck and licked again where he’d bitten her. “I like this reminiscin’ shit.”

“I’d like to get out of your clutches, now, if you don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do mind.”

He moved a hand to stroke his fingers over her lower abdomen in gentle circles. After a moment of that, he flexed his hips up and back to thrust slow and deep, and then returned to his circles.

“Creed…” Her voice held a low note of warning.

“What? Just wanna make ya come again. Fourth time’s tha charm, Jeannie.”

Her stiffening back relaxed against his body all at once as what he was doing to her fired her blood again.

“The two of you must have taken some Eastern sex tricks class together,” she whispered.

“It was a two-fer, with a discount. When it came time t’ practice, he played tha bitch.” As she shifted, he held her pinned tight. “Be still, let it wash over ya.”

“Say words, any damn words.” Her breath came short again.

“Tha quick brown fox jumped over tha lazy fuckin’ dog,” he whispered in her ear. Chuckling, he quieted, and then began a hissing whisper against her neck beside where he’d bitten in. “Jeannie, feel it – let go an’ lemme break ya down int’ deep pleasure. Ain’t no come like tha last come when ya think ya got no more in ya. Trust me, darlin’, ya got one more. Give it t’ me … Jeannie…”

When he said her name again, she cried out and he shot three fast short thrusts straight through her wrung-out climax. As they stilled, they were both panting.

Victor let her go and helped her to move, to lie down on her back. He stretched out beside her and wasn’t surprised when she made no effort to touch him.

“So as a stunt-Logan, how’d I do, Red? Blew yer mind? Ruined ya fer short?”

“You bit me.”

“Well, ya did ask so nicely. Plus, ya wriggle like my dick’s a damn fish hook. I had tha fangs under control ‘til ya did that.”

“You were an adequate stand-in. Thank you.” She got up, slightly wobbly, but recovered fast.

“Adequate, my ass.” He groped for his smokes and lit up.

“Granny lets you smoke in here?”

“Fer tha fortune she’s gettin’ in tha rental, I figure she can afford t’ air tha place out when I’m gone.” Puffing out a smoke ring, he growled at her. “Where ya goin’? ‘Round two starts in ‘bout three minutes.”

“Impressive.”

“Fastest refractory period in tha West.” When she headed for the bathroom, he chuckled. “Again? Might could need t’ get that looked at.”

She ignored him and disappeared behind the blanket. Victor leaned forward, beat his pillow pile into shape just right, and settled in. With any luck, the blizzard would hold for a day or two at least and he’d get to spend it fucking the darling of the X-Men until he turned her bowlegged.

That went as smooth as shit from a goose. Hellfire, expected t’ be shot through tha roof like a fuckin’ cannonball by now. Bitch likes t’ crawl off ‘er pedestal an’ play rough, too – I could show ‘er some games tha fireplug wouldn’t never get up tha guts t’ try.

Jean reappeared. She’d freshened up – hardly necessary in his opinion, he liked them grubby, mussed, and dripping with his cum. He moved one knee to better display his thick and hard dick. She barely glanced at him, though her heat was still strong. Then she headed for the pile of her things on the couch.

“Goin’ fer a Tic-Tac, or what? Ya won’t be shiverin’ no more once ya get back under me where ya belong.”

“I’m sleeping on your couch.”

“Consider it an upgrade t’ my bed, free o’ charge.”

“I’m going to sleep and you won’t be a nuisance, will you?”

She met his narrowing gaze with a frown and glare that was almost as fierce. It was a challenge, no mistaking that. Any ideas of making her hold still to be fucked that snaked into his head were chased away by the rising crackle of energy between them. Jean Grey was an atom bomb – a fact he’d learned at some cost years ago.

The only answer he gave her was a sullen growl. He listened as she dressed again, plus coat, hat, gloves, boots, and all. She settled on the couch. Victor grabbed the bottle from the headboard cubby, leaned an elbow into the pillows, and drained it down.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

The imperious tone was gone, but her voice had been flat, unaffected. He didn’t merely not matter – she knew she had no reason to fear him and had sounded like she was speaking to the furniture.

Fuck. First time I found a bottomless snatch like that again attached t’ all tha best goodies an’ it has t’ belong t’ this bitch? If’n this showdown was any-fuckin’-where else…

Here they were in Nepal, at the top of the very village he had sworn to never cause trouble in – to ensure the right to visit the snow leopard. Yet the place had become so much more to him since he had built this cabin. The way the world was going, the wild places were disappearing. He needed this one – more than he cared to admit to anyone breathing.

Victor growled low again and put the cigarette stub out on the back of his hand just to give himself a less risky focus for his anger and frustration. It burned his pride to just let her win – to lie there without proving to her, his fist in her hair, that her body still needed it – whether she wanted it or not.

“Goodnight, Creed.”

He hissed his displeasure. Unable to keep the sneer out of his tone, he muttered, “Night, Jeannie.”

~ ~ ~

Victor woke when she rose in the early morning. The blizzard had ended. Nursing his singed pride, he didn’t speak or get up, sure she would talk first – Chuck’s brood always had the hots to talk shit out. Then the chance was lost when she slipped away as silently as the heat in the room. The fires had burned out.

Anger, offense, and a predatory hunger tangled in his veins. He considered packing up and trying to follow her, unsure if he wanted to hunt her down for blood or just to get the last word in. He couldn’t track her flight, but she had mentioned places she wanted to go.

He was about to stuff his books into his backpack when he stopped, accepted the futility of catching her – let alone getting claws on her – and plopped down onto the couch instead.

Not worth it, ya stupid fuck. Notch yer belt an’ relax – that’s what ya came here fer.

Setting the books back on the table, he stretched out on the couch and breathed in her scent. It was his only real proof that he hadn’t dreamed the whole encounter.

Before the silence could choke him, he fished out the book of quotes and noticed a dog-eared page. The low growl that had thrummed in his throat since getting up stopped, and the grin began to tug at his lips again.

On the page, freshly marked with the highlighter from his backpack, was her message to him. He settled into the couch again with the book held over his face and read it – quite a few times.

So long as the laws remain such as they are today, employ some discretion: loud opinion forces us to do so, but in privacy and silence let us compensate ourselves for that cruel chastity we are obliged to display in public. ~ Marquis de Sade

“When yer up fer more compensation, Red – damn straight, I’m gonna be game.”

He sat up, his finger in the pages, and grabbed the unopened bottle of whiskey. Abusing the cap in his teeth, he spit it on the table and raised the bottle to her.

“Happy New Year, Jeannie – fer ‘nother auld lang syne.”

 

FINI.

(Sabretooth will return in Over the Edge.)

 

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Author’s Note: This will be the first of a mini-series I’m building of Sabretooth/Phoenix fics inside my Sabretooth series Equilibrium: of Cruelty and Pain. Each of these will be an encounter in an ongoing (mostly) annual tryst where Jean and Sabey keep meeting up somewhere on or just before New Year’s Eve. A new installment will be added as the muse strikes. These installments will be happening in between some of my other stories, but this first one happens after Cutting Edge and Shattered Silence.

My stories reference a lot of comics canon issues and events, and I may not always cite them in the notes. I assume the avid readers will recognize those parts, and others may not be concerned with it. Most of the comics history Victor refers to is canon or my best guess after researching canon information. Any reader as obsessed with Victor as I am is welcome to let me know if they notice any glaring mistakes. Some continuity is ignored for the sake of the story, though. Spanish: Estás en tu casa (you’re in your own home). I changed this from “Mi casa es tu casa” after having a native speaker help me out.

In the canon Sabretooth limited series Mary Shelley Overdrive, a character named Ruth told a woman named Bonnie Hale that she’d caught Victor more than once reading John Sandford novels. Those comics are my favorite Sabey story so far and the story influences my tales quite a bit, here and there. I highly recommend it as an excellent read. Also, my Sabey tales are often chock-full of spoilers about that story, so fair warning, if you haven’t read it yet. Victor’s unsettled feelings here with Jean on top and his near-instant addiction to sex with her have to do with the loss of Bonnie Hale. Thanks for reading!  – AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

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Sabretooth Series

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