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Dead and Burried Pt2/3 Rating NC-17

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  • Kat Hunt
    Author: Lady-T and Hunter Title: Dead and Buried Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: We didn t do anything. Blameless we are, totally and utterly blameless. Honest.
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 28, 2003
      Author: Lady-T and Hunter
      Title: Dead and Buried
      Rating: NC-17
      Disclaimer: We didn't do anything. Blameless we are,
      totally and utterly blameless. Honest.
      Summary: The storm brings trouble. A strange and
      slightly twisted Halloween story.
      Notes: LT is lazy and doesn't like thinking of plots.
      Hunter is lazy and doesn't like thinking of
      adjectives. Together things sometimes actually get
      done. Eventually. About 6 months late.

      Are you SURE you're OK?" Scott asked for what seemed
      like the thousandth time that evening.
      From her place on the couch Jean grimaced and shifted
      the ice-pack slightly against her bruised head.
      "I'm fine, Scott. I swear," she grumbled. "I'm keeping
      watch on myself for signs of a concussion, no, I don't
      have any unexplained complications, I'm not about to
      keel over and die, and for God's sake will you stop
      asking me that?"
      Logan smirked from behind his magazine, boots
      comfortably propped up on the coffee table.
      "Get an attitude when you get hit on the head, don't
      you Jeannie?"
      She cracked open one eye and glared at him.
      Beside the window Gambit snickered, idly shuffling his
      playing cards as he watched the swirling weather
      "You can shut up too, swamp rat," she grumbled.
      "Meeting a tree head first is NOT funny..."
      "Ahh, mon chere," he sighed. "Depends on who's
      watching, non?"
      Jean rolled her eyes and went back to tending her
      bruised head.
      In the hearth the red, dancing flames crackled
      noisily, filling the warm silence with the pops and
      snaps of an open fire. The room was lit with a warm
      glow from the flames as Remy had turned out the lights
      to better watch the lightening.
      Outside had grown cold and dark as night descended,
      the thermometer on the porch dropping steadily as the
      rain began to merge with hail.
      "Evil storm tonight," murmured Remy. "Shame 'bout the
      tree, too."
      Scott nodded and pulled himself out of his armchair to
      pour a drink from the decanter on the sideboard.
      "One of the Professor's favourites. He'll be upset
      when he gets home."
      "Non, not because of that," said Remy. He caught
      Scott's confused look in the reflection on the window
      glass and he blushed slightly, shaking his head. "Jus
      superstition, dat's all. Forget I said it."
      Scott shrugged.
      "Like what? Lightening hitting your Yew tree spells
      doom and gloom for all eternity, that kind of thing?"
      Remy laughed.
      "Non, nothing quite so drastic... Just, in de olden
      days they'd hang witches from Yew trees. Trap their
      soul inside the wood. Let's jus' hope ours was not one
      of them, non? Could be all sorts of evil t'ings coming
      out tonight, now that their souls are free."
      Logan snorted, exhaling a cloud of sweet-smelling
      cigar smoke.
      "Cajun, you really are more superstitious than anyone
      I ever met."
      Gambit shrugged.
      "Jus' the way I am," he smiled. "Never want to miss an
      opportunity. Dark spooky mansion, the four of us alone
      in de middle of de storm... Remy t'ink it be the
      perfect night for a Freddy Kruger marathon..."
      Jean groaned. "Thanks but no. I plan to enjoy the time
      we've got left before everyone else comes back. That
      doesn't include spending this week hiding behind the
      sofa with you."
      Remy shrugged, sidling up next to her as he flashed
      his most winning smile.
      "You sure? You, me, a sofa all to ourselves... sounds
      like a good idea to Remy..."
      "You're a shameless pig."
      "Fair 'nough."
      Logan laughed and went back to his magazine.
      Jean took the ice-pack off her head, gingerly feeling
      the bruise underneath.
      "At least the swelling's gone down..." she sniffed.
      The back of her head felt a little tender still, but
      the large lump had subsided. Maybe, she thought, she
      hadn't hit her head quite as hard as she'd first
      believed. It was one of those things that always felt
      a lot worse than it really was... like stubbing your
      toe on something really, really heavy.
      The headache had eased quickly and now she sat up,
      dropping the ice pack onto the sofa cushion beside
      her, glad that at least moving around didn't result in
      nauseating dizziness any more.
      "I think..." she said carefully, "I should go upstairs
      and take a shower..."
      Scott had found her some dry clothes as soon as he got
      inside, but she still had traces of mud clinging to
      her skin. It was dry and flaky now, clumping her hair
      together in patches.
      Scott nodded.
      "I'll come with you. Leave these two to their horror
      Logan raised an eyebrow from somewhere behind his
      "Early night, huh? Remember Summers... no strenuous
      activity for 24 hours. First rule of the concussed."
      Scott rolled his eyes as he put an arm around Jean's
      shoulders, leading her upstairs.


      Steam trailed out of the bathroom like a warm fog,
      settling over Jean as she lay on the bed.
      She could hear the wet, sloshing sound of Scott in the
      shower, occasional snatches of half-remembered pop
      songs following the steam across the room as he sang
      to himself in the bathroom.
      She felt... odd.
      Sleepy, kind of. Maybe it was just because she was
      warm and clean from her bath, tucked up securely in
      bed while the storm raged outside.
      She sighed and rolled onto her back.
      Saying she was sleepy wasn't quite right. She didn't
      quite know exactly what she felt. It was an
      indescribable sensation, nothing concrete, just an
      unarguable feeling of...
      She scrunched up her nose, unable to come up with a
      suitable analogy.
      It was like she wasn't quite all there. She felt
      incomplete, like someone had taken a part of her and
      stolen it away. An emotionless void seemed to be
      lurking inside, more than just apathy or exhaustion.
      It was strange and a little disconcerting.
      She rubbed her eyes and focused on the ceiling,
      feeling stupid. Of course she was all here, she was
      just being melodramatic. She'd whacked her head on a
      tree, it was no wonder she didn't feel completely
      She chastised herself for being paranoid, staring
      again at the white plaster above her as her eyes
      followed the path of a minute crack under the paint.
      No wonder horror movies are always played out in a
      storm... it sets minds to wandering.
      Jean snuggled down into the sheets, feeling herself
      relax against the soft quilt. In the bathroom Scott
      still sang as he washed himself, the sound of him and
      the water and the storm mixing together above the bed
      as she lay there, watching them swirl together like
      bright colours as she felt herself drift...
      Maybe it was the monotonous drumming of the rain but
      she felt suddenly exhausted. Like she was drifting to
      sleep as she lay there. Her mind seemed happy to
      wander on blankness as her eyelids drooped shut.
      A clunk from the bathroom was followed by a curse as a
      dropped bottle of shampoo hit the side of the tub and
      it snapped her mind back to momentary wakefulness
      again. That was wrong, wasn't it? She didn't usually
      zone out like that... Was this one of the symptoms of
      a concussion?
      She tried to remember but somehow couldn't quite seem
      to grasp the information she was looking for. She
      was... she was drifting...
      She blinked stupidly, her mind sinking back to sleep
      as swiftly as it had jarred awake. It felt kind of
      nice... quiet, peaceful. Something she hadn't had in a
      long time. It was like the irritating background hum
      of other people had been removed and it was just her
      in her head for the first time in forever. Her and a
      tiny little voice whispering for her to sleep... just
      relax and let go...
      Sleep, yes... that sounded good. Listen to the little
      voice as it soothes, the quiet, gentle whisper as it
      wraps a comfortable blanket around you...
      A glow spilled through her. That felt nice too... warm
      and peaceful. She tried to think if that too was a
      sign of a concussion but she couldn't seem to remember
      any more and at that moment she didn't really care.
      Sleep... gentle, warm sleep...
      On the edge of her universe she could hear the faint
      metallic noise of the TV set downstairs, the squealing
      horror movie music echoing up the stairs above the
      noise of the shower and the howling rain battering at
      the window.
      Remy was down there watching his movies. Logan was in
      his room.
      Scott was in the shower...
      A picture of him came unbidden into her head, naked
      amongst the steam, oblivious to her out here, his eyes
      tight shut against the water as he sang tunelessly
      under the cascade, soap slathering across his naked
      Not right, not right...
      Sleep, no don't sleep...
      She suddenly felt so dizzy, like everything had
      started to sway in her vision, like she had been
      spinning around in circles...
      Dizzy, dizzy, sick...
      She twisted her head sideways against the pillow,
      trying to focus on the madly jumping bedside lamp, the
      room snapping in a sharp arc as she flailed to grab
      onto something that wasn't moving around.
      The warm serenity vanished along with the voice,
      leaving a heaving tumult of faceless fears inside her
      skull. A swelling, broiling mass that echoed the
      raging gale outside. She gasped and writhed at the
      sudden shift, shivering as terrible cold overtook her,
      panicking as voices and feelings, and words that
      weren't hers were suddenly jammed into her head.
      Her voice hardly seemed like her own, shaking, quiet
      and confused as she curled up on the sheets, clawing
      her fingers into the bedspread to stop the rolling
      "I... I don't feel so..."
      Her breath hitched in her throat as a blinding pain
      seared through her head.
      "Don't feel so good..."
      He words were just a whimper now, a shaking hand
      reaching out to the bedside table but falling just
      short as her fingers curled up into a fist.
      "I... I don't..."
      She gasped then, her body going painfully rigid, her
      face a mask of exquisite pain, her eyes clenching
      tight shut as she fought against the burning in the
      back of her mind, choking harshly before collapsing
      against the bedspread, limp and weak. Rough, panted
      breaths heaving in her lungs as she rolled over onto
      her back again, swallowing nervously, focusing on her
      breathing to try and calm her raging heartbeat.
      Breath in, breath out, breath in, then silence.
      She jerked slightly then froze, eyes growing wide as
      her body refused to respond.
      Sleep, insisted the voice again... long gone sleep...
      No, no... not this... Fight, don't sleep... I can't
      Her mind raged then faded, sight leaking away with the
      last breath that died on her lips as she grew totally
      still, totally silent.
      Totally dead.

      It seemed like an eternity. An eternity of waiting, an
      eternity of wanting, forever seeking the cold,
      beautiful rush of air in her lungs.
      Dead but not, frozen but living...
      There but gone.
      Jean stared blindly at the ceiling, eyes wide and
      bulging, glassy and sightless, lungs frozen, unmoving
      for an eternity before she blinked, before she took a
      deep breath, before she levered herself upright as the
      lightening flickered at the window...
      "I don't quite feel myself."
      The voice was not her own.
      Stretching tensed muscles, she looked at her hands,
      clenching and unclenching the fingers like one would
      stretch new gloves in the warm yellow glow of the
      bedside light.
      A deep growl of thunder rippled through the room from
      the world outside just as the electricity flickered,
      dipping for a short second before returning.
      From the shower she could still hear Scott's tuneless
      singing and she softly eased herself off the bed.
      She knew this place so well... go to the dresser, open
      one of the drawers.
      She rooted through the contents carefully, pulling out
      the flat, thin, ornamental paperknife that she knew
      was kept in there. Scott used it for opening all his
      letters and the edge of it was dulled through
      continual use, the shining, polished blade glowing
      orange in the storm light.
      She ran her thumb across the blade edge, turning it
      over and over in her long fingers as she looked across
      to the bathroom door.

      "Here today, gone today, hurry up and wait..."
      Scott sang under his breath as he leaned his head
      forward under the hot cascade of water, massaging the
      soap out of his hair.
      His eyes were tight shut against the hot water, his
      glasses on the ledge by the sink on the far wall.
      "We fight it out, we work it out, give me some time to
      White bubbles slicked down over his shoulders,
      dripping into the tub and gathering around his feet as
      he rubbed his hands through his short hair, turning
      round to let the hot water sluice down his back.
      "You put on quite a show, you know that?"
      Jean's voice startled him as the bathroom door clicked
      He smirked, his eyes still closed as the water flowed
      down his body.
      "You're a sneaky one. Enjoying the view over
      there...?" he asked.
      "Oh, without a doubt."
      He snorted in amusement. "You want to hand me my
      glasses so I can return the compliment?"
      Jean shook her head. "Nope, I don't think I will."
      He pouted. "Well that's not fair now... you could be
      completely naked for all I know and I wouldn't be able
      to enjoy the experience."
      Jean's face split into a cunning smile as she took a
      step closer. "Well you'll definitely get an
      Scott's laughter filled the humid air, his lips
      curling into an anticipatory smile as he heard her
      footsteps pad across the floor towards him.
      "Is that so?"
      Jean made a little snort of amusement. "Don't let me
      stop you. Please... return to your shower... I can
      Scott laughed again and turned around, reaching for
      the controls to shut off the water.
      Her hand grasped at his arm and stopped him, those
      thin, elegant fingers sliding down his skin, making
      him stiffen in anticipation.
      "Don't stop..."
      She was purring right in his ear, he thought, her hand
      sliding round his shoulder and down across his chest,
      the spray from the shower soaking them both as she
      pressed herself close against his back.
      He could feel her naked skin brushing past him as her
      fingers slowly explored the ridges of his chest.
      "Let me look at you just the way you are..."
      Scott swallowed, turning slowly to face her as her
      hands fell away.
      She stepped back, watching the water caress his body,
      smiling in amusement at the beginnings of his
      "Well, look at you..." she murmured.
      "I thought that's what you had been doing," he
      Jean smirked and stepped forward again, watching him
      shiver in anticipation.
      "Turn around. I promise you it'll be good..."
      He did as he was told, obeying her voice of honey and
      leather as he turned back into the spray, feeling the
      hot fingers of water beat against his skin.
      She stepped close behind him, curling her arm around
      his chest, pulling his back tight against her as she
      rubbed his stomach in slow, soothing arcs.
      "No touching..." she purred as he reached for her
      hand, licking slowly up the side of his neck before
      sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
      He grunted and dropped his arms, though whether it was
      in pleasure or agreement he wasn't sure. Either way,
      her hand slid up to caress his chest, dragging a lazy
      thumb back and forth over a wet nipple.
      "Good boy..." she crooned, pulling her fingers across
      the hard muscles of his pectorals to lightly pinch at
      the other nipple before easing her touches in a slow
      sweep down his body.
      She stroked the baby-soft skin at the tops of his
      thighs before grasping a firm hold on the blood-heated
      flesh between his legs, pumping her hand slowly down
      his length.
      He gasped, jerking against her as she licked her lips.
      "I'm going to enjoy this so much..."
      She was purring down his ear... stroking his hot flesh
      in her palm, jerking him off just the way he liked it,
      right on the edge of ecstasy as she brought the
      paperknife out from behind her back, sinking it up to
      the hilt in his stomach with one swift, fluid
      Eternity in a second... he froze in shock and pain,
      feeling nothing... feeling everything...
      Her telekinesis slammed hard around his jaw, sealing
      it shut before he could scream. Locking across his
      face like a band of invisible steel, the veins in his
      neck bulged with strain, closing his eyes tight with a
      slight twitch of her powers.
      The blade dragged slowly upwards towards his ribs, the
      dulled edge messily parting flesh, ripping like so
      much raw meat.
      He flailed helplessly before she stilled him, binding
      limb by limb, strap by strap until he was frozen, his
      skin turning pale with the pressure of her telekinetic
      Bands of pinched flesh around his arms and body turned
      white then darkened with bruises as she tightened her
      hold, his movements restricted to the point where he
      toppled backwards, landing half in and half out of the
      shower, the hot water sluicing his dark red blood down
      the drain.
      He squirmed on the floor, jerking helplessly like a
      fly trapped in a spider web.
      Disorientated, confused, in so much terrible, terrible
      pain... He was frantic beneath her, twitching and
      bucking, straining against the hold on his jaw as she
      sunk her fingertips into the edge of his wound.
      She stretched open the cut to reveal the red and white
      gore underneath, his skin tearing back under her hands
      like uncooked pork, the skin wrinkling as she pushed
      it away.
      The body is full, she found, packed as tight as can be
      with everything needed for life, filled up with blood
      and fat and fluids. Hot and wet and sticky under her
      hands, familiar but alien both at once, the scientist
      left within her coolly naming every part, the rest of
      her just glorying in the familiar alien, new old
      feeling of blood on her hands, blood on her mind...
      She settled on Scott's thighs, sitting on top of him
      comfortably, still wet from the shower, now soaked
      with blood. His head jerked back and forth as he
      hummed and huffed and desperately tried to scream in
      muffled, pathetic cries, his hands balled into fists
      against the floor as she held him down.
      Dark, striped bruises pinched his skin tight beneath
      her unseen bonds but she barely even noticed them.
      Blood, almost black in the dim light spilled over his
      hips as she widened the gaping hole in his stomach
      with the blunt, tearing edge of the paperknife,
      viscera exposed and pulsing, twitching in time with
      his racing, skipping heart.
      She calmed him like a fussy child, stroking his face
      and hair, leaving red, slippery streaks behind.
      Liquid heat oozed from his body, slicking down his
      hips and stomach onto the bathroom rug beneath him,
      the smiling cartoon duckies vanishing in the swelling
      crimson lake.
      A string of drool escaped down his cheek as he
      strained against his frozen jaws, his mouth frothing
      with spit foam as he struggled.
      "So sweet..." his toes tightly curled as a telekinetic
      pressure began to build in his stomach.
      He rolled his head back at the pain, the squeezing
      pressure pouring through his body in nauseating waves.
      "So good, Scott, so good..."
      Her voice sounded far away to him. In rapture. Each
      passing second making it more distant. Further and
      further away as he slipped, then fell, then nothing.

      She felt him die, twitching her hips in bliss that
      bordered on orgasm as his last breath gurgled free,
      his struggling body falling limp and heavy to swim
      like a corpse in a crimson lake.
      She licked her lips, curling her hands in front of her
      face as she watched his lifeblood slither down to her
      "I want more."

      She left him on the carpet, climbing into the
      still-running shower as she cleaned away the evidence
      from her hands and body, the swirling red gathering
      around her bare feet before vanishing forever down the
      A humming pulse still filled her, consuming with its
      power. It called to her like the storm.
      She needed more, she had to have more, there had to be
      Remy was watching his movies. Logan was in his room.
      Her soul lit up as she formed him in her mind,
      picturing every last detail, the gnawing ache in the
      pit of her stomach answering with a push of desire.
      Her lips parted as she launched into song under the
      hot water, picking up exactly where Scott had left
      off. "I'm never there, for you or me. Can't you read,
      the story of our lies... Death to me and life for you.
      Something isn't right..."
      Her heart lifted with joy, a dark sweet smile
      splitting her face because this was going to be so.
      Fucking. Good...

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