Blue and Red


Rated a very serious R!

I own nothing


It was possible for a woman with scales instead of skin to get goose bumps. Beneath the lanky blonde disguise she wore into the bar, Mystique felt her skin pucker lightly in a way it only did when she was excited. Distantly she felt the gnawing fear deep in her belly but her racing heart and short breath pushed it aside. She was excited more then she was scared, after all what was more thrilling then the prospect of counting coup on one of the most feared mutants in the world? She smiled wickedly as she thought another glorious evening of using her god given talents for her own entertainment, a rarity now that Eric was out of prison. Magneto preferred she only shape shift on mission or when he told her to, rather then doing it to perform these acts of silly personal espionage for no reason other then her own.

No one else understood the sheer thrill she got from using her powers, the ability to be anyone and nothing at the same time. To have not just one identity but every identity all in one body was truly an amazing feeling.

But tonight Eric was out of town and John had gone off with Sabertooth somewhere to cause some trouble with something. Tonight she was all alone with no one to tell her what to do and who to impersonate. There was no one to look after or give orders to or sacrifices to make for the good of the cause. Tonight there was only Mystique.

Mystique and the Wolverine.

She hadn't been stalking him that long so it was convenient that he was so predictable; his movements were so easy to track when you realized that no matter where Logan went he needed a beer. The sports bar down the road from Xavier's school was this animal's new watering hole and was just sleazy enough for no one to ask unnecessary questions to the dark haired stranger that wandered in every night, weary from the weight of the world.

It was annoying, though, that he was never consistent about the time he came in. In fact, Mystique had to change her shape four times tonight just to keep from looking suspicious. After all, if she had remained in the same form for all six hours even the thick headed bartender would've asked questions she didn't really feeling like answering.

So she had shifted, partly for secrecy and partly just to keep from being bored. Right now she wore her favorite face; the one she imagined would have been hers if she had been born human and pretty. The tall blonde creature that charmed her way into that stupid prison guard's pants the night before Erik's last escape. It was a good body, a warm pink body she used sometimes to keep things interesting.

Perfect to dish out a little vengeance on her least favorite X-Man.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him sitting in the farthest booth in the back, chugging beers like most people drink water. That healing factor did wonders for a alcoholic and Mystique distantly found herself wondering exactly how much alcohol it took to get this man even tipsy.

Deciding to find out, she practically floated across the room to his booth and into his presence. She had perfumed herself heavily, hoping that maybe this time he could fool him into not recognizing her unique scent for a little while. She still wasn't sure what it was that tricked him that night in the woods but she was hoping she could do it again. It would be more fun if he didn't know it was her. Maybe get him to cry his heart out about that Jean-girl.

His eyes focused on her through his cigar smoke and she realized he had already made her out as Mystique with one casual sniff of the air. Damn that nose.

"Hello Mystique."

She should have been annoyed by his ability to see through her disguise but really she hadn't expected it too work any way. "Oh well, can't blame a girl for trying."

"Watch me."

"So can I join you?" Mystique smiled wickedly "Unless…you're afraid of me."

"Ain't no cowards at this table, sweet heart." Logan muttered as he lifted the bottle to his lips and poured beer into his esophagus, "You can sit any where you like."

There was a wide open spot on the other side of the booth but just to annoy him she slid into the seat immediately next to him. Her hands wandered over the crotch of his jeans. "Can I sit here?" She whispered with a smile and Logan growled right in her face.

"Not if you want to keep the hand."

She chuckled, well more like giggled, as her hand released its gripped and returned to its rightful place above at her side. There would be time to try that again later, right now she wanted to bait the hook. "Too bad." She whispered.

Logan took another sip of beer and finished the bottle, placing it off to his right and out of the way. He shot her a look as he did, as if to dare her to make a grab for it and start a fight. "What do you want, bitch?"

Her mouth formed a look of fake shock but her eyes smiled mischievously, "Now is that any way to talk to someone trying to give you their sympathies?"

"You don't have any sympathy." He said as he narrowed his eyes in a predatory glare, "And I'm not signing up for Magneto's team so fuck off."

More giggles, Logan felt the distinct urge to cut her throat just to stop that god awful sound. "Now, now, no reason to be hostile. I just wanted to drop by, see if maybe there was anything I could do to get you through this little period of mourning." The hand returned to his crotch, "Little silly when you think about it, all this fuss over a woman who only had eyes for that little frat-"

Logan snapped, his hands grabbing her wrists and painfully pulling her into his chest. She kept that damned smirk on her face and it was all Logan could do to keep from punching her lights out as he grabbed her shoulders roughly. "You want me to lose control, is that it?" He growled, "You couldn't handle me if I did."

"I can handle lots of things." She cooed and the smart aleck quip made her brace for a fist to the chin, something she knew he wanted to do.

But he did something else instead. She felt his hot breath drifting across her ear and she shivered in anticipation of what she assumed would be the inevitable kiss to follow. But it never came and instead he pulled away, leaving behind only the smell of sweet alcohol and musky cigar smoke to fill her nostrils and scent her skin. Beneath her disguise, Mystique felt ashamed as a warming heat from her thighs spread across her entire body. She was aroused and he knew. Wolverine could smell it all over her. How dare he, she thought, what gave this uncouth animal the audacity to turn her on, to push her buttons. This was her job; she was the one who was supposed to do this to him! "Get off of-"

He ignored as her breath came in short painful gasps as the feeling of warmth became painfully more intense. She wanted to get back in control, be back in charge of this, so she started pushing his hands away. Gently swatting at them in an attempt to repel his soft invasion.

Logan's grin broadened into a full blown smile. "I guess I was wrong, there is a coward sitting at this table." He slid even closer to her and carefully reached across her body to touch her shoulder with his right hand. "But it isn't me, is it darlin'?"

Mystique inhaled sharply as the hand touching her shoulder slid across her collarbone, down middle of her upper chest, and onto one of her breasts. Part of her felt disgusted with the action, no man had ever dared touch her there without her express permission. Who in the hell did he think he was? But she didn't dare cry out for him to stop because she knew she didn't want him to. She wanted this, she enjoyed Logan's touch.

"Y-You don't know me." She whispered, trying to contain how he was making her feel but failing miserably and then feeling shame because of it, "I'm not afraid of you."

It's hard to understand but Mystique's clothing was actually part of her skin, an illusion generated by the ever shifting-light sensitive scales that made up her skin. In spite of how she looked, she was always naked. So when he touched her dress, he was touching her and she didn't want to admit how good it made her feel.

Wolverine saw the internal struggle but pressed forward in his seduction. He gently squeezed the perfectly formed mound of flesh and kneaded it with his fingers until he could feel her body responding. Then he pinched the tip until Mystique had no choice but to moan in pleasure. It was a low, happy sound that was kept almost lowered to a whisper so as not to draw any unwanted attention to their corner of the bar.

No one cared what they were doing.

They wouldn't have stopped if anyone had.

She felt his other hand snake underneath the table and up her 'skirt' to the 'lace' beneath, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from screaming with anticipation. The heat, the desire, it was all too much for her.

"Now Logan," She panted into his nearest ear as his head bowed close to her face, "Take me now." Wolverine just smiled, taking his right hand off of her breast but keeping his left hand at the sacred place between her shifting thighs. He didn't need to look; it was obvious to Mystique that years of careful practice told him where exactly his fingers were on her body. Logan was a true master and at that moment she felt overpowered his sheer skill.

He ignored her words entirely, pretending she hadn't spoken at all. "Lemme guess, you came here looking to get me all pissed off right? Want me to pop claws and take a swing at you?"

She whispered in desperation as she tried to rub his hands against her body harder. "What? Y-yeah, whatever. Just take me."

"Seems you've changed your mind about this whole thing."

He was teasing her, pinching her through the thin layer of lace under her skirt that was rapidly becoming an annoying barrier between Mystique and the touch of his hands. Soon, she felt Logan's hands tugging impatiently at her underwear, begging access to her most sacred places. She felt him pinch her breast again, much harder this time, and a small yelp exited her mouth quietly. The pleasure was so great that she began to have trouble maintaining the blonde disguise she was wearing so her eyes flickered softly from light blue to golden yellow.

She was almost ready to give him what he wanted when she heard his rumbling growl in her ears. "Tell me Mystique, is this what you REALLY want?"

He looked at her as though she was something pathetic. Like a little girl putting up a tough front. Suddenly, her state of arousal crashed around her ears. He was toying with her, just like she had playfully toyed with him in the tent before going off to fight Stryker. She suddenly felt ill.

"What's the matter Mystique? Is the ice queen melting?"

Her anger blossomed in to hatred and she pushed him away, nearly throwing him out of the booth as she wrestled to get to the door. "You don't know me." She spat back at him without looking.

All the way to the street she heard Logan's taunting laughter


Outside in the alley behind the bar, Mystique shifted into her true form and leaned against the cold brick wall. Fighting back tears, she let her body slide slowly down into the soaking wet street and ignored the chilly sting of cement against naked, scaled thigh. His words and the feel of his hands made her remember all the good moments in her life, caused her to think about something other then her anger and hatred. Caused her to think about her children and the men she'd had them with. She remembered the handful that had been serious relationships, the ones she cared about and the ones she didn't. She remembered abandoning all of her children and never seeing some of them again. The numbers climbed higher in her head until a realization came.

All this time, this was the most emotional she'd ever been about anything. He'd known that and knew how to scare her: Make her feel again. Revert her into that scared little girl who didn't go to school as a child because she looked like a monster.

Suddenly, the cruelty she had worn as a disguise didn't seem quite so impenetrable anymore and the great deeds she had done for mutant kind were now just the unexpressed rage of a woman without an identity. In one night, Logan had managed to undo all the careful deceptions Mystique had told herself over the years to keep from going insane.

"You don't know me!" She cried as her head fell limply into her own hands, "You don't know me at all!" There was no one there but the words were for her. To hang on to a lie that was slowly disappearing.

It was too late though, she already knew the truth.

That even she could sing the blues.