Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

FIC:(NC-17) Broken Mirror II - Seduction Through A Mirror(NC-17)

Expand Messages
  • serleef@hotmail.com
    Broken Mirror II: Seduction Through A Mirror By Kes Serleef Series Rating: R for some violence and PG-13/R for sexuality, this part however is NC-17 Warning:
    Message 1 of 1 , May 6 5:17 PM
    • 0 Attachment
      Broken Mirror II: Seduction Through A Mirror
      By Kes Serleef
      Series Rating: R for some violence and PG-13/R for sexuality, this
      part however is NC-17
      Warning: The series contains angst. Towards the end there is some
      violence, but it really is mild I think.
      I would normally rate it a PG-13, however, I am not everyone, so I'm
      taking precautions.
      Characters: L,R,S,J
      Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the "X-Men" or any of its
      characters. That privilege belongs to Marvel, Fox, etc...no
      infringement on copyright is intended. Please don't sue me.
      Archive: Yes, but please ask me.
      Author's Note: I need a new home for my series and I hope it will be
      welcomed here. If not, please just email me privately. Thanks.
      Earlier parts of the series can be found on my site at:
      www.httpcity.com/serleef/index.html
      Summery: Marriage is bliss. Temptation leads to hell. Hearts are
      broken. Read on....

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      She'd seduced him through a mirror.

      She had seen love reflected through it...or maybe it had all been a
      false image.

      Mirrors distorted things, gave you a backwards reflection of how
      things really were. At the time it had seemed real, but she didn't
      know anymore.

      All she knew was that it started through a mirror.

      She remembered the day he came home — remembered the feel of his arms
      around her when he held her so tight, she'd thought her bones were
      going to break and hadn't cared.

      In that moment she had felt so complete. She'd thought she would
      always feel that way. That one moment of total completeness — she'd
      thought that it would be enough to sustain her, sustain them, forever.
      All the pieces had fallen into place in his arms. He had made her
      world feel safe in ways that no one else could.

      She remembered the look in his eyes — the way his gaze had seemed to
      absorb hers, remembered the look that he had given her.

      His eyes had said that she was the personification of all he held
      sacred — had said that she was everything he had been looking for and
      he no longer had to ask questions about where he belonged, because all
      the answers were contained in her face.

      That's what his look had said, even if he hadn't spoken the words.

      Then again, the memory could be just another manifestation of
      distorted images. She didn't know anymore.

      All she remembered was that...

      She had looked up at him at that day, five years ago, and remembered
      her heart stopping for a fraction of a second, then settling down in a
      rhythm as steady as the depth of her feelings for him.

      She remembered looking up at him, knowing that despite what lies she
      had told herself to avoid rejection — despite what she had heard from
      the professor, from Ororo, from Scott and Jean about her feeling for
      him — looking up at him at that moment she had known.

      The impact of knowing the simple revelation had left her dazed, and
      she remembered catching her breath in a sharp intake that had prompted
      him to ask her if she was okay. She hadn't been able to answer.
      Looking at his eyes, she had known that there would be no one else for
      her. There was never going to be any point of looking anywhere else
      for that seemingly unattainable essence that everyone always seemed to
      be fighting for.

      Her feelings for him had depths so deep that they almost scared her,
      and she had pulled away from him. A look of concern had crossed his
      face and he had cupped a gloved hand to lift her chin and meet his
      eyes which she had tried to elude it.

      She remembered it was at that moment that she was going to tell him
      about her newly discovered epiphany — when Jean walked in. She
      remembered how from that point on that day, his eyes never strayed far
      from where the other woman was located — by the side of Scott Summers.

      She remembered being in bed that night, in the room that she'd still
      shared with her best friends, trying to muffle sobs as her heart bleed
      one tear at a time.

      And as she stared blankly at the slowly dying body of her husband on
      the ground of the mansion's dark garage, she realized that the moment
      had been just an appetizer of the pain that had been coming her way.

      Now she had the full course and it was choking her. That day had been
      just an interlude, now she knew the whole story. She knew it — but she
      also knew how it had all started and she remembered she had been...

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Staring at the reflection of a girl — eyes heavy with the intensity of
      what she was seeing in the full-length mirror.

      Fascinated by the sight of hands as they slowly glided down the body
      of the girl in the reflection.

      Staring and seeing the gleam of chocolate brown eyes shielded by
      half-drooped lids and framed by platinum-white hair — a sharp contrast
      from the rest of the loosened chestnut-hair surrounding her face.

      She remembered how those eyes had clouded with pleasure as the hands
      had come up and cupped and kneaded the soft fullness of breasts. Hands
      had flattened and the surface of palms grazed the harden tips of
      dusky-rose nipples, so sensitive that the touch had compelled a
      breathless sound of both pleasure and pain from the girl in the
      mirror.

      She had seen lips swollen from the pull of teeth that had tried to
      stifle moans, but hadn't quite been successful as sounds filled the
      space of the pool house's changing room.

      She remembered the sight of soft thighs rubbing against each other in
      an attempt to find some relieve from the ache between them.

      Breathless gasps of pleasure had escaped parted lips as those
      fascinating hands, warm against bare flesh, had slipped to her stomach
      and launched such feelings of intense need that she couldn't stifle a
      loud moan that reflected that intensity.

      Those hands had crept slowly lower and she remembered the intensity
      rubbing against the swollen tip of her clit, and the sensation of
      knees going weak.

      Then she remembered the sudden glare of lights as her eyes snapped
      open at a choked sound that hadn't come from her own lips...and
      turning her head to the side to stare at the eyes of the man standing
      in the open door which she hadn't bothered to lock.

      He had been the reason she was there, standing naked and vulnerable
      and alone in front of a mirror. He was the man who's hands she had
      wanted to feel so badly on her body that at that moment she had had to
      stop herself from begging him to touch her.

      She had dreamt of him for so long... It had been her dreams that had
      brought her there.

      She remembered that that night had marked the second week of his
      return home after two whole years away...from her...and every day
      she'd had to endure being in the presence of her most wanted desire,
      have it within touching distance, and being light-years away from
      obtaining it.

      It had left her more frustrated than she had ever remembered being,
      and the struggle she'd had endure day after day as she hung out with
      him and they got to know each other again.

      She remembered being tormented by the simple things...the flash of his
      smile and the mock-fierce look of competitive intensity on his face as
      they played table hockey against Jubilee and Bobby; the smell of his
      hair when she'd rest her head on his shoulder asthey watched corny
      infomercials and talked about everything and nothing throughout the
      night.

      It had been the little things...and the big things that had hurt her
      as well.

      The way his attention would immediately be diverted, even if for a few
      seconds, when Jean walked into view. She remembered the way his
      comments to her always seemed to have a double meaning and the way
      Jean had responded with a knowing smile; smiles that had seemed
      relatively harmless enough at the time.

      It had all seemed harmless...and countered by the dead-pan humor of
      one Scott Summers who had never seemed to doubt. The consummate leader
      — self-assured and confident in the love of the woman who claimed to
      love him. Maybe it had all been taken too lightly, maybe they had all
      been stupid for being so complacent about the underlying currents of
      tension and the little truths behind the jokes and entendres.

      But he hadn't been hers...not then. Logan hadn't been hers, and
      although it had hurt her to see his flirtation with the other woman,
      she hadn't had the right to stop it.

      And so, it had been the little things and the big that had led her
      there that night. She'd been tormented by her dreams — tormented not
      by just her fantasies about him, but by her dreams of their life
      together. They were framed around one day, the day when he finally
      took the blinders off.

      She'd never for a second doubted his intelligence, but at times she'd
      wondered at his seemingly self-imposed denseness, for not realizing
      what had been so clear to anyone who had ever seen her face when he
      walked into a room.

      She had wanted him to realize he loved her as much as she did him.
      Had wanted him to acknowledged that she was no longer a child, that,
      granted, at nineteen she was still young...but she was no longer a
      child. She had been through too many experiences that had aged her
      thoroughly to be considered that.

      But she hadn't gotten that acknowledgment. In fact, Logan had been so
      shrouded in the past that for those first two week he had come home,
      he'd still called her "kid." That had all stopped when she elbowed him
      in the ribs one day and let him know how much she hadn't liked it.
      They'd laughed about it and he agreed not to do it anymore, but she
      had known that his idea of who she was and the place she had in his
      life had still been firmly intact.

      Her frustration level had been steadily simmering, but for some reason
      that night it had just spilled over, leaving her restless and unable
      to sleep. It was the first really hot night of the beginning of
      summer, and the coolness of the mansion's air conditioners just hadn't
      been penetrating the heat of the room she'd shared with Kitty and
      Jubes. Looking back, maybe it hadn'tbeen the room,but her own body
      that had left her uncomfortable. The other two hadn't had a problem
      sleeping.

      Whatever the source, she remembered thinking how intolerable she
      found the situation, as she'd tried to find a comfortable position.
      Her frustration level had risen every second she'd kick off the
      covers then pulled them back up on her body, had turned on her back,
      then on her sides, and finally on her stomach — feeling like crying at
      the uselessness of it all.

      She had finally given up and had gotten out of bed to creep out of
      the room quietly, with no particular intent except to get out of
      there. She'd had some vague idea of taking a cool shower, but it
      hadn't been until the glare of the outdoor lights from the pool house
      set back on the school's grounds had caught her eyes that a thread of
      an idea had formed.

      She had debated whether or not to go back to the room for a bathing
      suit, but had decided against it before she reasoned herself out of
      the whole thing. She had entered the pool house, and almost lost her
      nerve at the stillness surrounding her, but the lure of being enclosed
      in the cool waves of crystal water had been too tempting.

      She'd entered the changing room, and had again been reminded of the
      understated opulence of the mansion and its grounds — as she was every
      once in awhile. It was then that the glint of the full-length mirror
      had captured her attention.

      She had stood before it and tried to objectively evaluate her body in
      the reflection. She had smoothed and flattened the satin material of
      her pajama top and viewed the outline of her curves. Button by button
      she had exposed skin to the depth of the mirror, until she stood naked
      and held prisoner by the sight of the path her own hands had mapped on
      her body.

      Then he was there — as if by magic.

      That's how it had started...with the gaze of the man she had dreamt of
      staring at her from a doorway, and feeling his eyes like a burn.

      She knew she should have been embarrassed or even made an attempted to
      faked it, but for some reason she hadn't been able to...hadn't wanted
      to.

      Maybe it had been the way his eyes had not once left her body since
      entering the room, even as he had tried to stammer an explanation for
      his presence.

      He hadn't been able to sleep and had seen her sneak off to the pool
      house and wanted to make sure she was all right; he hadn't meant to
      spy on her and he should be going...etc...etc....etc....

      But the thing one thing she remembered vividly was that even after all
      the appropriate words had been said and the silence between had
      stretched, he hadn't once taken a step to leave.

      She'd stood there, skin burning where his eyes touched her like a
      caress,and had read things in them that made her stomach lurch and
      left her trembling.

      His eyes had said with crystal clarity that he found her beautiful.
      His eyes had spoken of the things he had wanted to do to her, but
      wouldn't because of who she was to him — or more to the point, wasn't
      to him. But regardless of will and reason, his eyes had said that he
      wanted her.

      At that moment she had realized that a spell had been cast and she
      held an untold amount of power in her hands. As the seconds had
      continued to tick and the silence between them became thick with an
      unspoken truth that neither of them had wanted to speak, because they
      understood at some level that it would break the hold, he had closed
      the door behind him and the click of the lock had echoed in the
      stillness.

      He had stood leaning against the door, eyes never leaving hers. She
      had turned back to the mirror because it had become too intense, and
      had closed her own to gain some balance to the upheaval her emotions
      had become.

      He was standing behind her when she had opened her eyes, standing
      close enough for her to feel his heat, but never touching the lure of
      soft but deadly skin. She had meet his gaze through the reflection and
      seen a desire so acute from him that she had broken their unspoken
      rule and moaned his name.

      Before shushing her, he had uttered the word that would lead to the
      path of their journey together through heaven...and hell. "I want to
      see, Marie," he has said in a voice she hadn't recognized because of
      its deepness. "I want to see hands that I would kill to be mine on
      your body. Please."

      And so she had seduced him through a mirror...that's how it had
      started.

      Now they were at the beginning of the end because of a betrayal so
      deep that she believed it had killed her soul.

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.