Repost.  ::cries::  ::kills  ::sniffles::  ...Okay, I'm good.  ::kicks a few more times for good measure::

Note:  Takes place after Day of Reckoning. 

WARNING! There be smut/porn/erotica running around here! But, Psycho B and DarkFire are nice little author gals who provide warnings in big, blinky letters, juuuuust so you don't accidentally (yeah, riiiiight) stumble upon something you don't really wanna see. That said, moving on....

Okies! ^^ Uhh, DarkFire's responsible for most of the dialogue/conversation-ish stuff, and the general storyline up until my smut scenes, where I completely take over and make everybody do nifty things, like... yes. You'll see! . I'm also at fault for pumping up the content overall, the additives, the majority of the smut and overly fluffy imagery, crap, barfalicious gooeyness, more crap, etc. and stuff that I hope you like! ^^ And naturally, I'm in charge of the final cut, beeeecause I'm special. MINE! ::giggles maniacally:: If you know our individual writing styles, you can pretty much tell who's done what. ^_~ So! With that in mind... yay! Read it, review it, love it, live it. XD (Hmm, can you tell who wrote that? Three guesses...) ::smirks:: This is DarkFire's sneaky way of getting around the slashfic I dared her to write. I let her off the hook with smut... sorta. I'm too easy. :D

Disclaimer: We (obviously) do not own X-Men: Evolution, or else that show would have some very different storylines... involving slash, (more) angst, and... smut, to say the very, very least. .


            Lance lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, which had long since stained with the leaking water from the roof. It had been two days since their little battle against Magneto. Since they left Fred behind. Since Kitty had left him... since Pietro had betrayed them all. He rolled over and looked at the clock. It was only eight p.m., but he was already pretty tired. It's weird, he mused to himself, staring intensely into the glowing red digits on his night table's clock radio. Not getting enough sleep can get you wired, and getting too much makes you tired.  Wackywack.

            He chuckled to himself at his clever rhyme. I think of the craziest things when I'm depressed. He got up, not without much effort, and started downstairs to the kitchen. Todd was in his room, probably sleeping off his depression. Mystique was doing... who knows what. Hell, Lance wasn't even sure where the boss lady slept now, considering Tabitha had blown up her bedroom with an array of cleverly placed bomblets. And that Agatha chick had been gone for some time now. Lance opened the fridge and found nothing but some leftover... who knows what.

            "You're not really planning to eat that, are you?" Lance turned around quickly, clearly startled, and looked at Wanda, who was standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face, slender white arms crossed under her breasts.

            "I'm desperate," he pointed out as he sat down and put a spoonful of the unidentifiable slop in his mouth, then abruptly spit it out. "But not that desperate." Wanda smirked and sauntered over to the table.

            "What is it?" she asked, looking at the tupperware with disgust written all over her face. She sniffed the container, and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

            "I think it was something that Freddy and Pietr--..." he stopped short and took the tupperware from her, then threw out the remains. "Well, all that's important is that it's no good."

            She frowned at his distressed look. "Yeah... well, I'm going to bed. Good night."

            "G'night." He watched her go up the stairs and sighed. Wanda didn't seem to be registering the real reason why he and Todd were so depressed. She always knew that Pietro would betray them... if only they had listened, or even simply considered the possibility. He sighed again and started walking back up the stairs to his bedroom, shoving his hands in his pockets with a scowl. Nothing I can do about it.

* * * * *

            Wanda sat on the overstuffed armchair and looked out the window, watching the stars, and smiling peacefully. Locked in that asylum, she was never able to look at them. She had almost forgotten how beautiful they were. She remembered when she and Pietro used to make shapes out of everything in the skies. They had made up their own names for everything. She frowned.

            The rest of the guys might not have known it, but she wasn't happy about what happened with Freddy and Pietro either. I mean, Freddy definitely didn't deserve any of this. As for Pietro.... She sighed, leaning forward to better her view of the beautiful night sky. I was starting to think we could have been back to normal again. Like when we were kids.

            She walked over to her bed and grabbed a pillow. She buried her face in it and started chanting in her mind I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry... but she wasn't winning her inner battle. Before she knew it, she was crying hysterically into her pillow, her harsh sobs muffled somewhat by the cushy object clutched so desperately at her chest. Her silent pleas were absorbed and lost in the wide heavens looming above her, as the storm clouds began to move in.

* * * * *

            Lance lay in bed... again. It was already past eleven, and he couldn't fall asleep. The events of the fight kept entering his mind, and invading his thoughts. Especially the whole "leaving Fred" part. Once in a while he'd get a brief flash, a reminder of the sadistic, self-satisfied smirk on Pietro's face when they were falling through the ground, right into those weirdoes' headquarters with that big... machine thing. "Gahhh..." he muttered, turning over yet again, in hot pursuit of a comfortable sleeping position. He hadn't bothered changing for bed, or even undressing at all, for that matter. All he'd done was kick off his scuffed, worn brown boots. He didn't desire dust, dirt and general filth in his bed, so off they went. He decided that he needed some new shoes. Just another little something to add to the ever-growing list of needs.

            When he finally pushed the thoughts away, thinking he was about to fall asleep, he heard a soft sound coming from the next room over. "Wanda...?" he whispered to himself, throwing his thin blanket to the other side of the mattress and getting up and out of the bed in one swift motion, making his way down the hall to her room.

            Definitely from Wanda's room...

            He now stood outside of her room listening to the sound. What was it? It sounds like... crying. But that can't be it. What does she have to cry about? He opened the door just a crack, praying she didn't notice him. And there she was. Holding a pillow to her face to muffle the noise, crying her eyes out.

            Suddenly Lance had an overwhelming urge to comfort her. Great idea Lance. Might help if you can get into the room without her blowing your stupid head off for spying. But then, something happened.

            Lance rapped on her door.

            He looked down. Oh shit! Why did I do that?

            "What do you want?" he heard her hiss, her voice slightly shaky. Lance slowly opened the heavy oak door the rest of the way, peeking in cautiously, ready to dodge any random hex bolts that came flying his way.

            "Are you okay?" She looked at him suspiciously, her clear blue eyes narrowing into dark slits. At this point, Wanda apparently realized why he asked her such a thing, because she started to swipe at her eyes with the back of her small, pale hand. Lance's eyes honed in on the deep claret nail polish, the shiny lacquer gleaming in the moonlight that spilled in through the open window. A gentle breeze wafted through the opening -- Wanda had removed the screen earlier, feeling it too reminiscent of her days spent caged like an animal in the asylum.

            "Just go away." She turned away and he sighed. At least I still have my head, he thought dryly as he walked out of the room. "Why do they always do that?" Wanda's voice cut through the thick silence. Lance turned around and saw her looking at him, peering through heavily lashed lids.

            "Do what?" he inquired carefully, not quite sure yet where she was planning to take their little conversation.

            "Leave." He looked at her confused for a second... then he figured out just who she was talking about. He started to walk over to her while she resumed speaking. "I would have followed them to the end of the world and back if they had just given me a chance. But instead, they just left me." She stopped again. "If he was so fucking strong... why couldn't he handle me until I learned to control the powers that I couldn't handle because of him!"

            Lance blinked, Wanda's words not making sense to him. The anger was coming back -- he could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, so much like Pietro's. Betrayed by her own flesh and blood; her own twin! All the sorrow always turned into anger. "You shouldn't do that." She looked at him, seemingly confused. "You shouldn't let the anger control you... it'll just keep getting stronger and stronger until you find yourself doing something horrible." He bowed his head and sighed, the weight of his own burdens suddenly too great to bear.

            He looked back at her to see an odd, distant look in her eyes. "I wouldn't care if I blew up the whole town, as long as I got my revenge."

            "You don't mean that," Lance said with such assurance, he could tell she was becoming annoyed with him and his intrusive, know-it-all ways.

            "How would you know?" That demand, and the tone in her voice, definitely proved that she was beyond annoyed... more to the point of extreme irritation.

            "You're not that kind of person." Now would be a good time to shut up! his mind screamed at him as he saw anger building up in her eyes. But then, as suddenly as it arrived... it vanished. And she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and nearly hysterical. Uhh... where the hell is this coming from? Not knowing what to do, Lance reached up and started to pat her on the back, his hands sliding up and down the soft fabric of her shirt, feeling the soft, creamy skin of her arms and shoulders as she clung to him almost desperately. Lance noted that she smelled good, something like fruit, flowers and spices. A unique blend for an equally unique girl.

            After a few minutes of Wanda crying, Lance patting her back, feeling that strange mixture of uncomfortable and... something else he couldn't quite place, she pulled away, sniffling and not meeting his eyes for several moments. Then, she looked up. In that second that they just stared at each other, everything became very clear to Lance -- she just needed to be loved. Like me. Thinking about how he used to be before he came to the BoM, his family. She looked away, her cheeks blushing to a flattering rose-colored hue. Lance hadn't pinned Wanda as one to ever, ever blush, but these were exceptional circumstances, he rationalized.

            He moved closer to her and tilted her face to look up at his. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could his lips where on hers, daring an ever-so-light kiss. I'm still living, that's a good sign. Before Lance knew what he was doing, he pulled away.

            Wanda slowly opened her cerulean eyes and looked into his. She stared at him for a long moment, searching his eyes as he did hers. She didn't know whether she should send him flying right out the open window, or do what she really wanted to do: get him back in her arms so she could just let out all these conflicting emotions that where building up inside of her, centering in the very core of her being.

            Lance was also having the same debate, only his involved running for his life. Wait, why'd I kiss her in the first place? I can't just leave now, there's no doubt that she'd kill me! And I can't just kiss her again... she'd probably kill me! Well, this is certainly a no-win situation that I just got myself into. Man, I'm such an idiot! But, in rather short order, he was proven wrong.

            Wanda virtually threw herself at Lance, pouncing like a panther and kissing him long and hard. Before she could move away, his tongue was invading her mouth, dancing with her smaller one. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his own around her waist, caressing the soft flesh. His hands could just about span her entire waist, he marveled, it was so tiny. She was so tiny... he worried at being too rough with her, then remembering that she, despite her petite frame, was as tough a girl as any -- tougher, more than likely. Lance tried to keep in mind the extent of the damage she'd caused at each and every battle they had been involved in; this was no fragile, delicate piece of china, although he couldn't help feeling as though he should handle her that way. As the kiss started to get more insistent, she moaned into his mouth and he started run his hands over her body, daring several times to travel up and under the silky top, smoothing up her back, along her spine.

            Wanda's fingers started to outline and trace the border of his vest with deft precision, and she soon had it off, moving next for the remaining piece of material between she and Lance's bare body. Her hands began drifting down to the hem of his t-shirt. Lance vaguely regretted not undressing before collapsing on his bed earlier, despite how arousing it was to be undressed, little by little, by a beautiful young girl. They broke their kiss only for a moment as the shirt slid over his head. Wow, he must work out, Wanda thought, observing appraisingly his well-muscled chest, her fingers straying to brush the toned skin lightly. She looked back at him and saw a look of mild amusement, or so she thought. She smiled and kissed him again, only this time, Lance didn't kiss back.

            "What's wrong?" Wanda asked in a breathy whisper as she pulled away, looking hurt and confused. There was no mistaking the husky tone in her voice. The soft sounds inflamed him, but Lance forced himself to speak the words he knew he must, lest she regret this and hate him tomorrow.

            "Well, um... don't you think this is moving kinda... fast...?" he said haltingly, damning his words even as he spoke them. Crap. He could feel his face redden. Wanda sat back down and turned away from him.

            "Yeah, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking." She snatched a pillow from the ground where it had fallen earlier, and put it back in its proper place amongst the many others. Lance's eyes glinted with the slightest tinge of jealousy at the plush, spacious living accommodations she had, compared to the rest of the team.

            Multiple pillows, bah! Lance thought, eyeing the cushy objects enviously. He wanted more pillows...! Unfair treatment, he surmised bitterly, before realizing that Wanda truly did deserve all of it. He imagined living in a nut house probably wasn't the most accommodating of places.

            "Um, maybe you should go... I'm tired, and Mystique would probably kill us if she found us together... like this," she said, her head jerking meaningfully towards the pile of Lance's discarded clothing on the floor beside the bed. He nodded slowly, getting up and grabbing his shirt and vest up off of the floor.

            "Well, good night," Lance ended reluctantly, backing out of the room. Wanda watched him walk out, closing the door softly. Upon hearing the definite click of the knob, she sighed, covering her face with her hands, collapsing on her bed and sinking into the heavy pile of blankets and pillows in deep thought.

* * * * *

            Lance stood outside her door, well aware that he had no shirt on... though he didn't particularly care. He started walking down the hall to his own room. Okay, let's recap the situation: a girl just threw herself at you and you walked out. But this wasn't just any girl, this was Pietro's sister... Pietro's very beautiful sister. Pietro's very beautiful, very curvy sister... Pietro's very beautiful, curvy, perfect sister... and this beautiful, curvy, smooth, perfect girl (that just so happens to be Pietro's twin sister!) you just walked out on after she practically threw herself at you. Yes. A genius play, master of the universe... Lance mentally kicked himself, and considered, for a short time, actually doing so for real, until he realized that Wanda would probably hear that, and poke her head out to investigate... in which case, he would be tempted to pounce on her and continue the sweet, wonderful episode they had just cut short. Or, more aptly, he had just concluded. Man, what the hell was I thinking?

            Lance stopped, turned around, paused only momentarily in self-doubt, and virtually ran back to Wanda's room. When he swung the door open, slamming it into the opposite wall, she quickly sat up in the bed, looking at him with shock written all over her face. Shock and... happiness? He hoped. For a second he found himself lost in her eyes. Wow, they're... really blue! Like sapphires. Mm, pretty. With that thought, and without any bothersome hesitation to get in the way, he hopped onto the bed, hovering above her, and caught her lips in a searing kiss. "God, I want you," he murmured in her ear, surprising both himself and Wanda with his statement. He planted soft kisses along the ridge of her ear as he whispered the line, over and over again. His mantra. "I want you, I want you, I want you..."

            When they finally pulled apart, Wanda sat up. Lance knelt on the bed before her, his gaze stealing hungrily over her luscious body, wanting to see more of it... maybe even all of it, if she'd allow. His hand trailed up to were the lacing to her shirt began. She brought her mouth to his and captured his lips with her own as he unlaced her shirt. He broke away a bit too fast for her liking.

            Wanda looked at him with confusion, but found that he was looking at her shirt with annoyance.

            "Laces suck," Lance announced bluntly as he ripped her shirt open, effectively tearing the lacings apart. The scrap of material was quickly thrown to the side. Wanda was ready for another kiss, but instead Lance started to remove the scarf around her waist, which was quickly thrown to the floor as well.

            Lance stopped and looked up at Wanda. She was staring at him, waiting to see what he was going to do next. Her lips were kiss-swollen and parted slightly, and he couldn't wait to return to them. Her eyes looked glazed. Lance smiled and kissed her stomach, allowing his lips to linger over the sensitive skin. He started to remove her pants, inching them down over her hips. "I think you're moving too slowly."

            His eyes met Wanda's as he smirked with devilish glee. "It's better when you do it slowly," he promised as he leaned over her. He kissed the side of her neck, sucking at the pulse point, then returned to her face. "Do you trust me?" Lance asked quietly, and Wanda looked intensely, meaningfully, into his dark eyes as she nodded her consent. With that, he kissed her deeply, then started moving ever downwards, until he reached the satiny skin right above her breasts. He looked at the bra covering them and sneered.

            "Let me guess," Wanda said teasingly. He looked up at the smiling girl. "Bras suck?"

            "Naah," he said as he slid his hands up her body, grabbing at the closure at the front of the lacy undergarment and undoing it with practiced ease. "I can do bras," he boasted, pressing his lips to the swell of one breast, then the valley in between the two. He took the bra off completely and tossed it aside, finding himself staring dumbly, unable to speak. She was truly perfect. Lance buried his face in her rose-tinted bosom, savoring the soft scent of warm skin and sultry want. He took one rosy nipple in his mouth, nipping gently and evoking a sharp gasp from his new would-be lover. As his mouth continued to work her, his fingers traveled lower, resting on her hips and the tight, black pants still residing there, waiting to be removed and freed from responsibilities. He obliged them.

            Beneath, he found an equally sexy pair of black lace panties, the obvious match to the bra he'd tossed aside only moments before. For a minute, his mind stepped back from his body, taking in the big picture: Wanda was clothed in nothing but a brief pair of lacy panties. She was kissing him with reckless abandon, her precious pink tongue battling with his for dominance. He had her pinned against the headboard, her perfect breasts flattened against his chest. His hands were cupping her bottom as she ground her hips on his raging erection. If it weren't for those black lace panties, he would be buried deep inside her by now.

            Lance found it difficult to ease the panties off her body; her legs were apart, with his own in between them. He despised breaking contact with her warm skin, even for as short a time as to remove irksome underwear. Wanda's hands were fumbling with his zipper.

            He took a good look at her; the pale face flushed, her short, dark hair mussed from him running his hands through it, reveling in the baby-soft texture. Her eyes were trained on his groin, where she had just become successful with the zipper from hell -- she sure showed it! Lance gulped to see that it had been melted apart... it was no longer a zipper at all, really, just a strip of hot, metallic lumps. As Lance was looking curiously at what used to be his zipper, he saw Wanda's slim hand reaching for him, smoothing partway up his flat stomach and venturing down again. She hooked her index finger in the waistband of his shorts and pulled and released quickly, the sharp sting of the elastic retracting causing him to cry out. Wanda laughed at him throatily; mocking him, even. Only one good way to get back at her for that.

            Lance yanked the panties off of her roughly, down her hips and off her legs. He was surprised at her compliance; she lifted one leg, then the other, allowing him to remove her last article of clothing, leaving her completely nude and at his mercy. Lance kissed her tenderly, in a way trying to make up for his moment of lost restraint. He doubted anyone had ever been with her before, considering her history. She would fry any guards who tried any funny business at the asylum, this Lance was sure of. He would be her first, he thought giddily, as his fingers slid between her parted legs, caressing her inner thigh with a feathery touch. Feeling his way through the nest of soft curls. A lone finger, slipping inside to rub the small bud of flesh at the front of her sex, feeling Wanda arch against him, trying to somehow coax the brunette to do more, anything more. So close... and it felt so good!

            "Lance!" she hissed, her deep red nails digging into his flesh as he slid the finger over her sex more rapidly. Wanda knew she was close to something, so close... then he stopped. Her eyes fluttered open, noting how dark Lance's eyes had become; limpid pools of desire. She knew what he wanted, and was all too happy to oblige him his wants, for they were hers as well. He lifted her body, moving her further down the mattress, flat on her back. He seized her hips to steady her, and positioned himself at her opening, looking in her eyes one last time for any last minute change of heart. Receiving naught but a sultry stare and a slight moving of hips, she communicated her desires by action, rather than words. She pushed back and wrapped her legs around Lance's waist as he entered her, making what was intended to be a gentle deflowering rough and intense. Lance's kind of girl!

            At Wanda's apparent request, he pushed into her violently, pounding repeatedly with a savage, animalistic rhythm that made her pale breasts jiggle as she bounced on the bed beneath him, writhing and holding his body as close to hers as humanly, or mutantly, possible. Wanda cried out loudly as Lance's mouth closed around her nipple, sucking hard and biting down. Her nails dragged down his back, leaving long, reddening welts in their wake. This was what they both needed; to just fuck hard and feel free, and let out their anger at everything -- their teammates, their situation, life in general. Lance was only vaguely aware of Wanda screaming his name, or maybe just screaming in general, he couldn't quite tell. She came hard, her inner muscles contracting and spasming around his rigid member. He thrust into her harder than he'd dared to yet, moaning her name, this he knew for certain, as he spilled his seed into her body. God, how he'd needed this. And he knew he would need it again. Need her again.

            Lance collapsed on top of his new lover, still intimately intertwined, as the tremors ceased and the house settled on its foundation. Just the sound of her breathing as she ran her slim fingers through his hair was heavenly to Lance. He paused for a languid kiss, savoring her taste. Divine.

            Reluctantly, Lance pulled out of Wanda, flopping down beside her, fingers seeking hers to lace in between and hold. He wondered if Wanda was the type to accept post-lovemaking cuddling. He assumed not. The cool breeze wafting in through the open window brought a much needed relief, soothing overheated flesh and calming quickened pulses. Lance was the first to break the silence.

            "Wanda?" he asked softly, only to be shushed be the girl beside him.

            "Shhh," she urged, her eyes opening and head turning toward the window. "It's raining."

            Indeed it was, Lance thought, finally taking notice of the constant staccato rhythm beating down outside their cozy little world. Suddenly, the air seemed awfully chilly, even for late spring. He turned to Wanda, pulling the abandoned blankets over them both and easing her against his chest, hooking an arm possessively around her tiny waist. She'd take the goddamned cuddling and like it, he decided firmly, adjusting to a more comfortable position. The soft underside of her breasts grazed the top of his arm, tickling him with his own hairs. Lance was nearly asleep when he felt her arm sneak back between his legs to fondle him. Again...? he thought, once more thoroughly convinced that this was his dream woman.

            Her hand stroked his length lightly several times before moving farther back to toy with the skin surrounding his sac, rolling and teasing. It wasn't long at all before Wanda's clever fingers had Lance standing at attention for a second time.

            "Mmm, Wanda..." he breathed in her ear, urging her on. She didn't require much persuasion. Her hips tipped back, allowing him access to her body. She guided his sex between her thighs, and they shared a slow, relaxing coupling, a pleasant compliment to the driven, extreme episode earlier. Lance dipped a rogue hand into the well of Wanda's womanhood, sliding expertly between the hot, velvety folds and bringing his new lover off twice more before filling her with himself a second time, the damp, sticky substance seeping out around his member. He didn't care.

            The rain had lessened to a steady beating on the roof above, thunder rolling in the distance as the storm passed. Lance knew from Wanda's even breathing that she was asleep. He only briefly considered returning to his own room, but squashed the thought quickly. Lance then came to a few startling conclusions. He liked Wanda. He liked kissing Wanda. Having Wanda kiss him, and do other unmentionable things to him, made him and his body very happy.

            Yeah. This can so work. Oh yes.

* * * * *

            Pietro stood, his eye at the sliver of an opening he'd made between the door and the molding. He had watched, dumbfounded (and admittedly, quite turned on) to see his ex-best friend fucking his twin sister in her bed. Go, dad! he had cheered inwardly as he'd used his usual Magneto-requested-spying-time to watch his twin and his former housemate get it on. He did realize that if they caught him, standing in the hallway peering in and rubbing himself, that he was one dead little speed demon, but somehow, Pietro... didn't really care. This was just too good. Seeing the pair finally settle down to sleep, Pietro silently closed the door and zipped out of the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House, cackling to himself wildly as he ran.

            Just wait till dad hears about this!

* * * * *

Erm, yay? ::waves a little white flag:: Yeah, that was pretty pointless and bizarre, but hey -- you read it. Tis not our fault, we did warn you, so no flaming us! :D Also... isn't Pietro just the most darling little back-stabber you've ever seen? ::pets Pie-Pie:: And, and... Lanciepoo! :D ::huggles Lance:: Aww! ^^

Review! ::points at "submit review" bar::  And as I told you before: read it, review it, love it, live it! :D