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FIC: Discernible (1/1)

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  • Adelaide Morgan
    Title: Discernible Author: Adelaide@morganne.freeserve.co.uk Category: POV, Angst Archive: You mean you actually want this?? Woah, scary…. But yeah, if you
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 29 11:18 AM
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      Title: Discernible
      Author: Adelaide@...


      POV, Angst


      You mean you actually want this?? Woah, scary….

      But yeah, if you want it, you can have it. The fic that is…


      err, only a PG, sorry.


      Loved it? Loathed it? Couldn’t give a damn? Tell me anyway… Adelaide@...


      err… only if you’ve no idea who I’m talking about. If the case IS so.. what are you doing here?


      Not mine. Property of Marvel Comics and Fox <?>. I'm just borrowing this amazing world for a while, and promise to return it in the same state i found it in. Honest!



      Thanks to:

      You for reading this. Helena for the beta.


      Watching, and in turn being watched, but is it as private as initially thought?


      I watch him.

      I watch him running, muscles in his chest, arms and legs rippling, the sweat dripping as he pushes himself even further.

      I watch him as he stops, sniffing the air, no doubt having caught the scent of something <of me?>, the hunter in him automatically reacting.

      I watch him when he’s playing table football with Rogue, head tossed back, laughter bubbling as he lets her win. She alone appears to have the power to make him happy.

      I watch him when he’s watching television, relaxed and calm, a rare state for him to be in. Sprawled in a chair, legs and arms draped over the sides

      I watch him when he sleeps. I sneak into his room, standing in the doorway, watching him toss and turn as dreams of the life he cannot remember haunt him.

      I watch him wherever and whenever I can, but my favourite time to watch him is when he is exercising, to see that body in action.

      Watching him run is where you find me today; he is running laps around the gardens and I am leaning against the wall, watching him.

      He is working on speed, running faster and faster. As the sun beats down, he pulls the shirt from his back, dropping it to the floor at my feet.

      I have to remind myself to breathe as he passes by so close to me.





      Is it my imagination, but are his laps passing closer by me every time?





      I shake my head to rid myself of such foolish notions. What would a man like him ever see in the likes of me?

      Could I ever attract his attentions?

      Why would I even want them, flashed through my mind as a pair of elbows rested on my shoulder and I turned my head to gaze into the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

      Jean leans up to kiss me, a kiss I melt into willingly. I open my eyes for a fraction to gaze across the garden. He has stopped, leaning forwards, hands on his knees, breath coming in short puffs.

      I watch him.

      And he watches me.


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