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Blurred Margins Duet; Tender: The Beginning. (Rating R at the most) B/R, L/R. ,

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  • xadieother
    Hey Guys, This fic has been driving me crazy! Its my first one, and I d really appreciate any feedback or guidance. Please let me know what you think, as it
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 30, 2003
      Hey Guys,

      This fic has been driving me crazy! Its my first one, and I'd really
      appreciate any feedback or guidance. Please let me know what you
      think, as it was universally ignored at fanfiction.net.

      Tender - The Beginning

      Pairing: Bobby/Rogue, Logan/Rogue

      Rating: R (I think!)

      Summary: Trials and tribulations of a first relationship, mutant
      style. Post X-2.

      Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, the song lyrics belong to
      Blur. I'm not making any money out of either (mores the pity!). If
      you don't know Blur's music, then please try to have a listen. I can
      highly recommend "Tender" and "No Distance Left To Run". This also
      owes a huge debt to jenn, some of whose ideas I've explored.
      Her stories inspired me to have a go.

      Archiving: Please ask first. All reviews gratefully received at


      "Tender is the night,

      Lying by your side"

      I don't think that I've ever seen anything more beautiful than her
      sleeping beside me. Sometimes I turn the light on just to watch her,
      dark eyelashes lying on skin the exact shade and scent of expensive
      vanilla ice cream. Funny, I never thought that vanilla was that
      special a flavor - I always preferred mint choc chip. That only
      lasted until she let me brush my lips across her skin for the first
      time - so careful, soft-on-soft, so scared she'd run any moment.
      Breathing in the essence of her, a perfume I want to have with me
      always. So jealous because I *know* others can smell her far more
      intensely than I can. I want to wrap up her scent, just for me.

      "Tender is the touch,

      Of someone that you love too much"

      Remembering the first time we made love - the first for us both.
      Some people want to forget their first time - I try to remember it
      every day, so it stays clear. Learning to kiss, to feel and to give
      sensation in return through material so fine I could taste every
      part of her. Not knowing how warm everything would feel, how
      naturally it all happens. Liquid and soft and hot like her eyes, her
      face, her lips telling me she needed me, she wanted me. Never
      realising until that moment how a person's soul can flow out through
      their eyes. Sighing against her hair that I loved her, would never
      hurt her, could never leave. Lying tangled in each other afterwards,
      daring again to taste her skin, just once more. Falling asleep and
      never wanting the night to end.

      "Tender is the day,

      The demons go away"

      The night I lost my virginity I had the worst nightmare so far. A
      horrific jigsaw of images and memories - leaving my parents and
      watching them being dragged away to die, only to find myself
      underwater and not strong enough to get out, trapped by metal in my
      body that didn't belong there. I woke up screaming, hot tears
      shaking my body. Turned to find him awake and holding me, skin cool
      like a river against me, whispering comfort like the sound of water
      flowing over rock. Slowly relaxing against him, coming to my senses
      to see tears in his eyes.

      "Lord I need to find,

      Someone who can heal my mind"

      He doesn't know how much I care for him, how grateful I am to him
      for standing by me, for never turning away from me the way the other
      students did. He's my lover, my friend, the brother I never had.
      Even when he kisses me for too long and I can *feel* him slipping
      into me, violating my mind again, I trust him and he trusts me.
      Smiles at me with those eyes the colour of glaciers and tells me
      that I haven't hurt him, that he'll be ok. I remember brown eyes
      telling me the same thing. Dangerous hand stroking my hair, smell of
      leather and cigars and *safety*. Now I look into blue eyes that
      could never erase the memory of someone that I hold within me closer
      than my own life, in whose dreams I walk nightly as a different
      person. But most of the time I am only myself. I feel his love for
      me and I cherish the days - the nights are too crowded.


      "Tender is the ghost,

      The ghost I love the most"

      Sometimes she looks out of the window for too long with a half-
      wistful smile, and I know that she wants to run again. Mostly it
      doesn't bother me too much, but occasionally I get dark and cold
      inside, looking at her and seeing him. It twists in me that there is
      so much of him there and so little of me. Makes me want to force my
      lips against hers until she takes all I have and I'm inside her
      forever, like he is. Then she turns to me and smiles all the trust
      in the world straight into my heart and I melt all over again. She's
      my angel and I could never hurt her.

      "Hiding from the sun,

      Waiting for the night to come"

      I never saw much point in daylight. A warm summer afternoon leaves
      me, quite literally, cold. Since we started sharing a bed I can't
      imagine why any kind of deity would invent such a pointless waste of
      hours between cool and dark. My foolproof theory of atheism, hmm. I
      want her to move into my room so that I can devour every detail of
      her, night after night. I don't want to waste precious moments of
      twilight or dawn while she gets ready somewhere else. At noon I
      start counting the hours until dark. Hoping against hope that a
      certain someone's shrill little voice doesn't pipe up with the
      suggestion of a film or a club in town. When the door closes to
      *our* room, I am always inwardly relieved.
      I wish I wasn't always so afraid she'll run.


      "Tender is my heart,

      I'm screwing up my life"

      Sometimes I do still feel it, the urge to run. To shout "fuck off"
      to the world and stop them all touching me, smothering me. The other
      voices in my mind get excited then, they feel my anger, my
      frustration and they draw closer like beggars round a flame. That's
      when I hate him and his pale eyes and his bloody wrapping me in
      cotton wool and I just want to tear free, tear him with the metal
      under my skin. The thought frightens me and I turn away from the
      window, to see him watching me. I remember what he means to me and I
      smile at him because he's so kind. And then I wish that I were as
      good as he is and carefully modulate my attitude for a while. But it
      always comes back, eventually. The *other* in me.

      "Lord I need to find,

      Someone who can heal my mind"

      I know what the answer is, really. I'll never be the girl he wants
      me to be, because under the surface I'm something else, not-male-not-
      female-just-me. I keep half-hoping that he'll suddenly understand
      the reason that I wear my hair like a badge, a symbol of who I am.
      But he doesn't. And he'll never be the man I want, because he's a
      boy inside, and he'll have to hurt a lot and cry and stop crying to
      become a man. I don't want to watch him do that, don't want to be
      the one that breaks him inside so that he puts himself together
      stronger. But since I can't have what I want and he doesn't know
      what he wants we are happy deluding ourselves.
      After all, he does love me.


      "Tender is the night,

      Lying by your side,

      Tender is the touch,

      Of someone that you love too much,

      Tender is my heart tonight,

      I'm screwing up my life,

      Lord I need to find,

      Someone who can heal my mind"
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