She paused in the doorway, smiling to see him there. The mansion was silent at this hour, its hallways empty, but still it seemed somehow confining, pressing hollow to every side. Perhaps that was only the way of it. Old fears always seemed to return stronger for the stillness of the night, absent the noise and distractions of the day. Again she chided herself, summoning this strange new strength, already easier for the practice.

His back was to her, legs curled beneath him as he reclined at one end of the couch, leaning toward the dim lamp that was the library's only source of light. But the windows here were wide, opening to the gentle glow of the skies beyond. It caught on the dark waves of his hair, followed the line of his arm as he shifted the book and turned the page. She watched as he reached for his glass, both hands still firmly on the tome, bringing it to his lips instead with an idle gesture of his long and curling tail.

Chuckling, she stepped round.

"Ororo!" She had startled him but he recovered quickly, resting the book across his knee as he broke into an easy grin.

"Good evening, Kurt." Moving to the nearest bookcase, she ran a finger along the shelf. The volume that she slipped free was particularly cracked and worn, the title perhaps not so important as the attention it had once been given. The poor state of its spine was recommendation enough.

"I do not believe I have ever seen you with your hair up." It hung in a loose knot at the back of her neck, pale and shifting as the robe draped round her waist. This ended well above her knees, far too thin to be of any comfort against the cold, but he suspected that she needed none. In truth, it was no more revealing than the costumes that they wore in most of their waking hours. Still he could remember that first gathering – awkward new companions and awkwardly attired – the heat growing in his cheeks even as his eyes had drank their fill.

She must have read something in his face as she turned from the bookcase, her lips twitching almost imperceptibly. Shifting aside, he patted the spot beside him, echoing her tired chuckle as she rested her back in the crook of his arm. Her legs she stretched cross the couch, propping the book against her knees.

Again, she followed his gaze. "I suppose you are also going to tell me that I have – how did you put it? – marvelous legs?"

"I would not say it if it were not true."

She shook her head as she turned the first few pages. "I suspected that it had more to do with embarrassing poor Peter."

He laughed, resting his chin against her hair as she tilted her head to look up at him.

"That will not work on me, you know."

"No, I did not expect that it would."

She settled back against him, the easy silence broken only occasionally by the rustle of a turning page. Funny how quickly these evenings had become routine, a comfortable companionship stolen amongst the horrors of the day. She found herself smiling for that. Though she supposed that when you became accustomed to facing death at a person's side, there was little left secret between you.

"Hm." He shifted beside her, chuckling beneath his sigh.

It was only then that she realized that she had been letting her fingers trail along his arm, tracing idle patterns in that soft, dark fur. "My apologies." And yet she turned the page with her other hand, leaving the first where it had fallen.

"I do not mind. Quite the contrary."

She pillowed her cheek on his elbow, rolling her head to work the stiffness from her neck. He set his book aside, hands slipping beneath her hair to trace the curve of her shoulders. Gentle but insistent they pressed, the deep and slow whorls drawing a gasp of pain.

He tisked. "You took quite a blow today."

She had, at that. A simple misstep in the afternoon's Danger Room session, a mere moment's distraction. She had not seen the piston, had not heard it fire until it took her between the shoulders and sent her sprawling. But he had been there then, offering a sweeping hand to help her to her feet.

Leaning back against him, she sat straighter, his thumbs massaging her spine as his fingers lingered lightly along her ribs. Again she gasped, but the ache was fading now.

"Kurt… I want to thank you."

"It is my pleasure."

"Not only for this. Though it is lovely."

He laughed.

"It is… strange. Still so strange. Before I came here… I was alone." She shook her head. "I enjoyed it, I think. But even those who came with offerings, in curiosity… they would never truly see me, never truly meet my eyes. I convinced myself that I preferred it that way."

He leaned forward with a quiet nod, his chin brushing the top of her head.

"I could never truly be part of their world. I was revered… feared."

"I know something of the feeling."

She twisted, the apology blooming on her lips. But he was smiling still, toying with her.

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be." He shook his head, eyes flickering to the hand that had fallen against his chest when she turned. "There are some things that even power cannot give, that cannot be won through will alone… no matter how strong, how certain." He smiled for her, running a finger along her chin. "And yet there are times when even the knowledge that we are not alone is not enough. We seek reminders—"

"A connection. I can feel the currents of the earth herself, rock and tree and air. It is overwhelming, joy beyond description and I am grateful for it. But sometimes…" She was leaning closer, she realized, her eyes falling shut as she sighed.

"It is not enough?"

"No." She shook her head. "Goddess help me, it is not."

Again his hands took up their rhythm against her back, gentle and soothing. "We all feel it. And it is harder – I think – seeing all that we have seen, risking all that we do. It burns brighter, the feeling that we must—"

"Kurt." She raised her head, close enough now to feel his breath catch. "Come upstairs with me."

His chuckle was warm against her lips, though she could not say which of them had moved. "It is not that I have not thought about—"

Pushing herself upward, she covered his mouth with hers. He tasted faintly of fruit, the lingering musk of his forgotten glass. "Come."

"Far be it from me to keep a damsel in distress." He was on his feet in a shot, wrapping an arm round her waist to pull her to him. "Now, if you will only hold to me a moment, dear lady—"

"No." She lay a finger against his lips, twining her hand though his as she started for the door. "This way."

"Was—? But what if we are caught?"

The shadows were thicker in the hall beyond. "You forget that I was once the best thief in all of Cairo. And you…" Already his face had fallen half in darkness, leaving only a slit of narrowed gold, the glint of grinning teeth.

Again she pressed her lips to his, pulling them both along the empty hall, pulled back again to whispered laughter. And so they continued, stealing moments in darkened corners, sneaking quick only to linger, falling against the stairs as they made their way to the mansion's highest floor.

The air was sweet here, the welcome scent of her plants seeming to wrap them round. Again he pressed her back against the wall, stopping just shy of her door, the pause ripping an impatient sigh from her throat. The kiss was brief, but his expression was no less hungry as he stepped away and left her cold.

"What are you—?"

He tilted his head, regarding her. "May I?"

Comprehension dawned, a smile tugging at her lips. He had been holding back.

Shaking his head with a bemused chuckle, he mimed binding an arm behind him. "It is like trying to dance with only one leg, like trying to appreciate a painting while covering one eye. And a most beautiful painting, in this case."

She smirked for the flattery, a strand of hair falling cross her eyes as she lowered her head in a slow nod.

He swept it quickly aside, still standing apart from her, still seeming only to watch. His tail lingered there, tucking the hair behind her ear, sweeping soft across her cheek and shoulder.

Grabbing him by the arm, she pulled him roughly to her. His touch was everywhere now, everywhere and yet not, everywhere but where she wanted him to be. He even shifted away as he stirred against her, the gentleman still.

She slid along the wall, fumbling for the door and pushing it wide to bathe them both in the light of the windows beyond. Here they reined, one entire wall given over to glass, to the glory of the sky beyond. She turned toward it, looking back at him over her shoulder as she shook loose her hair. Moving to the rumpled robe, she let it fall.

His smile was thick as he followed, eyes narrowing as she turned and took his hand in hers. "Ororo…"

Her hands slipped now beneath his shirt, pushing it upwards as she curled her fingers in his the welcome warmth of his fur. There was a moment's difficulty as they tugged it over his head, his laugh a muffled echo of her own. She ran her hands across his chest, each hinted curve of lean muscle now revealed, velvet soft despite their strength. Lower they flowed, her fingertips tracing lightly to his belt. His face was buried now against her shoulder, the gasp hot as she slipped him free.

She rose against him, drawing his mouth to hers. The softest touch behind her thigh and his tail was pushing her leg upward, urging it round him as they felt their way back toward the bed.

There he paused, raising his head to look down at her, the question unspoken. Steady she held his gaze, her hands moving almost without thought, reaching round his backside to draw him to her. Her gasp came whimpered thick, his own buried against her chest as he pressed her down. Back he rolled, slow and stretching, arching against her as he thrust again. Long and lingering, but her grip tightened, urging him to quicken as her nails raked cross his back. He whispered something that she could not understand, hands sliding beneath her, drawing her upward. One kneaded hard against her bottom, raising her hips, her legs tightening desperately around his waist. Back he sat, letting her rise above him as he rocked on his heels.

With her he moved, but he let her set the pace now, leaning back to let his eyes roam over her. Again she pulled him close, his chuckle hot against her neck as his gaze lit on the sky beyond her shoulder. The clouds gathered there, the lightening flickering above them diffuse and sourceless, setting the sky ablaze. His hands tightened hard round her hips, driving deep, holding her there as the laugh thickened—

A crack of sound, a burst of smoke. They were thrown now against the window, her breath ripped from her as his hiss came ragged against her ear. The bed was now across the room, but he had never left her, was inside her still. Her playful, chiding comment died beneath his lips as she slid higher cross the glass, pinned between him and all the world.

Throwing back her head, she smiled for the night, her fingers tangling in his hair. Still he seemed to be everywhere – within and without – that strange and gentle touch tracing again the quivering lines of her, his tail wrapping round her ankle to pull her deeper still.

Something seemed to shift then, those familiar currents of earth, of life, suddenly overwhelming as her fingers curled against his chest. It ripped through the darkness beyond, the deep and welcome rumble, the rains opening themselves to all the world.

...Goddess.