Kitty had never seen Piotr's loft this neat. Usually the main floor space was taken up by his studio---the drafting table and easel, worktable cluttered with tubes of paint, brushes stuck in old spaghetti sauce jars, palettes and palette knives, and the other tools of his art. Stacks of blank canvases and racks of completed paintings in various stages of drying.

All positioned to take advantage of the light from the floor to ceiling windows. The couch, coffee table, and TV with DVD player were tucked into a corner as an afterthought.

Now, the detritus of a working artist was tidied away. The couch repositioned for the best view of the glittering skyline the windows provided at night. There was a rug on the floor instead of a tarp. And a small stack of wrapped presents crowned the coffee table, flanked by candles and roses.

It was Kitty Pryde's eighteenth birthday.

To celebrate, Piotr had taken her to the Silver Samovar for dinner, and to the Kirov Ballet to watch Anya Makarova dance the lead in Sleeping Beauty. She was going to drink a glass of champagne, open her presents, and then go upstairs to his bedroom.

And have sex with him.

They were finally going to do it.

Sleep together.

Make love.


Kitty was a little nervous.

She waited quietly while Piotr lit candles, put on some soft instrumental music, and brought the champagne and two glasses over to the couch. He'd shed his jacket somewhere along the way, and his tie, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. His blue eyes were bright with desire, handsome face flushed with excitement, dark hair tousled into curls. So like her schoolgirl fantasies for a moment she almost believed that she was curled up on her bed at the mansion, daydreaming.

Piotr mistook her nervous fidget for greed and chuckled indulgently. "Go ahead, birthday girl."

She gave him a shy smile and reached for the small box on the top of the stack. She recognized the antique-gold gift box from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Piotr's second home.

It was a gold Ahava pendant, spelling out the word 'love' in Hebrew.

"Oh Peter!" she cried out, "it's beautiful, and so thoughtful." She lifted the pendant out and admired it, dutifully reading the card detailing the history of the sculpture it was inspired by.

"And true," Piotr handed her a glass of champagne. She put the necklace back in its box and put it down to accept the glass. "I love you, Katya."

She felt a warmth rise through her. "I love you, Peter." She took a sip of her champagne and set the glass aside in favor of a kiss. She disposed of her presents in short order, just trinkets, tokens of his affection. A DVD set of one of her favorite television shows, a couple of books by authors she liked, a mix CD he'd burned for her himself, a bottle of perfume.

Kitty took another sip from her glass and settled back comfortably on the couch. Piotr poured for her again, topping up the glass. Letting his own glass stay half-full. The wine was starting to go to her head, just enough to make her feel giddy. So she put the glass down again after one last sip.

"You look beautiful," Piotr told her.

She'd dressed carefully, her hair pulled up in a neat French twist, with a few curling ringlets falling to frame her face. She was wearing a classic little black dress, strappy heels, and silver love knot earrings. Rogue told her she looked like Audrey Hepburn before she left the mansion, the southern belle's highest compliment.

"You don't look half bad yourself." Piotr cleaned up very nicely indeed. She snuggled into his arms. They kissed, parted for breath. Piotr cupped her cheek, gently stroking her chin with his thumb, and that was when Kitty realized that she was trembling.

"Shall we go upstairs?" Piotr asked softly. She nodded a little; he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. She took it, and stood to follow.

Piotr's bedroom was also terribly neat. Kitty swallowed and thought maybe she should have drunk more champagne to drown the butterflies in her stomach. He kissed her again, and it made her knees go weak, but Kitty knew Piotr wouldn't let her fall. He gathered her up into his arms and carried her over to his bed, still devouring her mouth with kisses. He lay her down gently, climbing over her, careful with his weight. But she could feel his big solid body pressing down, the warm heavy reality of him.


He was smothering her with kisses, she couldn't breathe, and she fought the sudden panicked urge to phase, to go intangible and escape, pushing instead at his shoulders.

"Peter! Wait…stop…stop it…."

He lifted his head and she watched, heart sinking, as the glazed dreamy light in his eyes faded away, the look of pleased anticipation left his face, to be replaced with sick regret.

He pushed up off her, and sat up, not meeting her eyes. "It's all right, Katya. I thought this would be romantic. You don't have to. We've waited this long, I can wait until you're sure you are ready…."

"No," she sat up too. "This has been romantic, Peter, tonight was perfect, wonderful, magic…I don't want it to end. I just…I'm…."


"Yeah," she sighed, and smiled at her foolishness. For so long, she'd teased, pushed, begged to go a little farther when Piotr was putting the brakes on, and now that they had come down to it, to do it, she was the one freaking out.

Piotr nodded carefully, then asked, "Are you afraid of me?" in a very small voice for such a large young man.

She reached up and caught his arm. "Peter, no! I love you, and I trust you. I WANT to. I just…can we slow down a little? We have all night." She stretched up to kiss his cheek.

"I love you," he said it back intently. "I will be gentle with you. But if you are not ready for this, I can wait some more. We will make out a little, like always, and if you don't like it, we will stop, okay?"

"Okay," Kitty agreed. "Why don't we get comfy and kiss for a while?" she took her shoes off, and scooted back to recline, plumping up the pillows while Piotr kicked his own shoes off and moved beside her.

The crushing weight of expectations removed from the experience, lying back on his bed, tucked in the crook of his arm and necking quietly, as they had done a kajillion times was much better. They brushed their lips together. Nibbled and sucked at each other's bottom lip. Broke for breath, leaned in again, tongues tangling.

"I think it was performance anxiety," Kitty apologized breathlessly, as Piotr nibbled at her earlobe, playing with her earring. He stopped, looking up to meet her eyes. "You've been waiting so patiently, more patiently than I have," she reached up and traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip. "Waiting for me to grow up. Waiting for so long. What if I'm not…if I disappoint you?"

He leaned back, and kissed her fingertip. "You cannot disappoint me, Katya," he promised with a wry smile. "If anything, our long wait means I only hope I don't disappoint you."

She blushed a little, rolling her eyes. They'd talked about that. Their determined celibacy meant that Piotr wouldn't have much stamina at first. She knew that the romance novels lied about sex. Losing her virginity was going to hurt a little and she wouldn't spontaneously have an orgasm just because she and Piotr were really and truly in love.

She smiled warmly at Piotr. He'd been so adamant about explaining, wanting her to know exactly what it was going to be like. So her first time would be special, not confusing and awful and scary.

Like his was.

For a long time, she'd been jealous and worried that Piotr was comparing her to his blonde and buxom ex-girlfriend, Irina. Until Piotr sat her down for a serious talk, and confessed the things she'd known since they'd taken refuge with Irina after Stryker's raid on the school. And a few things she'd shied away from thinking about.

That Piotr had worked as an enforcer for Irina's father, a mob boss. And what 'bodyguard and playmate' were euphemisms for. Piotr expected Kitty to break up with him, but felt he owed her the truth. That he was ordered to sleep with Irina, and get her pregnant. Boris couldn't have any more children, and he wanted a grandson to raise to take over. Professor Xavier had found Piotr with Cerebro, and Doctor Grey…convinced…Boris to let him leave before that happened.

Oh, he and Irina liked each other well enough, but they'd both been too young, too inexperienced. It hadn't gone well, their first time. She'd cried.

And that was why Piotr was so stubbornly determined to do right by Kitty. To wait until she was eighteen, and to be romantic, yet realistic.

"You won't disappoint me, either," she promised him with another kiss. Boldly, she licked at Piotr's lips. He opened them for her, and there was the slick sliding of their tongues as the kiss deepened. Taking that as an invitation, Piotr added open-mouthed swipes at her jawline and neck. They continued nuzzling and necking for quite a while longer. Kitty felt warmth spread through her, tingling, and pulled away, propping herself up to look down at Piotr fondly, his dark hair mussed and lips pink with her smeared lipstick.

"I, I think I'm ready," she said shyly, "why don't we get a little more comfortable?"

Piotr nodded dumbly, kissed her softly on the forehead, and let her go. Kitty scooped up her tiny beaded evening bag from his dresser, and ducked into the bathroom.

She carefully took her hairpins out, shaking down her long chestnut brown hair. She took a small bottle of perfume from the purse, and freshened the light rose scent in the hollow of her throat, and behind her earlobes and on the inside of her wrists, and between her breasts. She licked her lips, and reapplied lipstick.

And stood looking into the mirror for a long moment, gathering her courage before she squared her shoulders and walked back into his bedroom.

Piotr was sitting at the foot of the bed, in red silk boxers, pulling the sock off his left foot. He looked up. Kitty took a deep breath and stepped forward, partially phasing.

The empty dress crumpled to the floor behind her, and she stood before Piotr in a strapless ivory lace bra, boy-cut briefs, and a garter and stockings.

His jaw dropped. "Ekaterina…" he sighed a deep rumble of approval.

Her own mouth had gone a little dry at the sight of his bare chest, the marble-pale perfection of hard lines and planes of the smooth slabs of muscle.

She walked slowly over to the bed, and climbed into his lap, straddling him. His eyes were very wide as she ran her fingers through his hair, then put her arms around him. They kissed, and she drew back from the kiss with a little gasp as a sudden insistent push against her thigh told her that he was ready, more than ready, to move on.

Piotr lowered his head and began to nuzzle at her neck and her cleavage, kissing the small mounds of her breasts.

"You are wearing lace? For me?" Piotr asked breathlessly. "You hate lace."

"I wanted to look sexy for you," she agreed. "I've been planning that little phase strip tease for months. Did you like it?"

"Da, very much," he kissed her again and gently pulled her down onto the bed, on top of him.

Kitty greedily studied the vast body before her, all hers for the first time, hers to touch and explore with no limits. She ran a hand across the broad expanse of smooth chest. She skimmed over his chest with her fingertips again, then bent to press a kiss against the strong column of his throat.

She let her fingertips wander down to washboard abs.

They were quiet for a while, just kissing and touching each other lightly. Piotr cupped her breasts, tickled her, and drew slow lazy circles around her navel with a forefinger. Watching her face, he slid his hand down between her thighs, rubbing gently.

Kitty arched against his hand, and reached over to touch the lump tenting his boxers. It was hard. Not hard-hard, Piotr was still flesh and blood, not solid organic steel. But very…firm, Kitty decided that firm was the word she was looking for. She rubbed him through the silk. Piotr pressed in, just a bit, through her cotton.

Piotr closed his eyes and licked his lips. "God, Katya," he panted roughly. "Do you know how many times I touched myself like that, pretending it was your hand?"

"Lots," she laughed breathlessly. "Oh! Peter, that feels so good…."

"Da, yes, it feels very good…Katya, I think we should…."

"Um, okay." They both slid off their sides of the bed. Kitty snuck peeks at Piotr as he slipped off his boxers, and then opened a drawer, taking something out and putting it on top of the nightstand. A box of condoms.

She was a little self-conscious about lying back down on the bed next to him, naked. Piotr was looking at her, a pleased smile on his face. Kitty wasn't looking at his face. She stared for so long he shifted uncomfortably and questioned, "Katya?"

She'd never seen a naked man before. She'd seen marble statues of Greek and Roman gods, and once or twice had stumbled on a photo-manipulation of an actor from one of her TV shows while surfing online looking for fanfic.

"Wow," she whispered.

"Heh," Piotr gave a smug snort, and reached over for the condoms. She raised her eyebrows as the word 'assorted' on the label caught her attention.

"Assorted?" she read it aloud.

Piotr gave her a guilty grin. "I, er, I got textured and flavored as well as plain."

Kitty considered it. "Put on a flavored one on, I want to try that first."

"Are you…okay!"

It was ridiculously pink. Piotr snuggled back against his pillows while she crawled down and studied it. She glanced up at his hopeful grin, and tried an experimental lick. Watermelon?!

"Tastes like bubblegum," she commented.

"Don't chew!" Piotr yelped urgently.

"Silly," she giggled, knowing he was teasing her. She hesitated, moving down a little more and bracing herself with her hands before leaning over and taking him into her mouth.

Piotr made a soft sound. She slurped clumsily, trying not to gag herself. It wasn't anything like the banana she'd surreptitiously practiced with, but the excited little whimpers Piotr was making told her that he was enjoying it.

It was over soon. Kitty sat up against her pillows while Piotr cleaned up with some tissues. "That was amazing," he sighed, giving her a goofily blissed-out grin, and reached for her, cuddling her close. "You didn't have to. I mean, it's your birthday, not mine."

Kitty giggled. "Well, I figured, let you go first and I get more foreplay."

"As milady commands," Piotr began to caress her again. "Would you like me to rub your back?"

"That sounds nice," she rolled over onto her stomach and closed her eyes. Piotr's strong hands dug into her shoulders gently. She marveled at that. She'd seen him crack Brazil nuts between his thumb and forefinger, bend iron bars in his bare hands, and he was always so gentle with her. He started at the nape of her neck, kneading and caressing, stopping to drop little kisses down along her back.

It was making her boneless, limp and relaxed as a petted cat. Piotr began gathering her hair in his hands, pulling it into a ponytail then letting it fall down loose to tickle her shoulders. He combed through her hair with his fingers again, and scratched lightly at her scalp in little circles.

"mmmmhhmmyhmmmm…." Kitty sighed.

Piotr chuckled. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Uhn-uh. Just relaxed. That's good, you give great backrubs," she sighed into her pillow. "You want one?"

"Maybe later." He was sweeping one hand down her back again, from the back of her neck to her tailbone, patting the curve of her rump before sliding back up. "Do you…" he cleared his throat. "Are you ready to go again?"

She rolled over and smiled at him. He lay back down beside her and pulled her close, tight against his body. He kissed her again. She could feel the hardness of him, pressing against her, and she trembled with excitement.

He shifted beside her, lowering his head to kiss her bare breasts. She threw an arm around his shoulders, idly twining her fingers through his hair.

"Kaatyaa," he sighed into her skin, adding something thickly affectionate in Russian.

She gasped as he slid his hand down her belly, between her thighs, testing her with a fingertip. "I'm ready," she promised quickly. "I want you." He sat up, fumbling with the package of condoms again, then reached for her.

Kitty had plumped up her pillows behind her, and lay down, getting comfortable and spreading her legs. Piotr crawled over her, on top of her, settling his weight on her carefully.

She gasped a little as he shifted, and his cock slid between her thighs. Piotr moaned, and kissed her, panting. "Katya, love, I need…."

She took a deep breath and said it again, bracing herself. "Okay, Piotr, it's okay."

He pushed in slowly. She couldn't help crying out softly. There was pressure, a burning ache inside. It was sharp, but faded fast. Piotr began to move inside her, and she concentrated on the mask of pleasure that smoothed his features. It felt strange, but didn't hurt as badly as she had feared, and Piotr went faster and faster, his hips pounding against hers.

He shuddered, and sighed, and collapsed heavily on top of her, then grinned and gave her a lingering kiss. Then pulled out of her and sat up. Kitty curled up, waiting, while Piotr padded naked into the bathroom. He brought her warm washcloths, and took them away again, and then pulled down the coverlet on his bed, and they both climbed under the covers and into each other's arms.

"So. That was sex." Kitty said after a while.

"Did it hurt badly?" Piotr asked, a note of anxiety in his voice.

"Not too bad. It was stickier than I imagined," she added, amused. Piotr laughed. "And I liked the foreplay, the kissing and all that other stuff before. And knowing that you liked it, that I was the one making you feel that good."

"It will be better next time," Piotr promised her sleepily.

And it was.

The End