Notes: This collection of 15 short-stories is part of my contribution to the 15 genres, 1Prompt, 1 month on livejournal, connected, in my case, to the Excalibur Fandom, with special focus on Pete Wisdom, and pormt aftermath; few of them will be set in my Blackdragon Universe, others will more canon.

Title: Repetition
Author: Little Firestar
Rating: M
Fandom: Excalibur (Marvel Universe)
Characters: Pete Wisdom/Christine Stark [OC]
Summary: Every Night, it's the same thing. She'll allow him to take her, and then she'll leave. He hopes that one day she'll stay, and will allow him to love her as much as she deserves. One day- but not today.
Spoilers: None
Genre: Angst (with an erotic twist)
Notes: due to the presence of Christine Stark, it obviously takes place is my Blackdragon Universe (see journal), around the time Wisdom faked his death while training X-Force (issues #105-110).

The aftermath kills him every time, but still, he keeps doing it –he keeps ending up in her bed, day after day, and he doesn't even know why. Does he thinks that she'll suddenly change her mind about what she merely acknowledges like an affair, or is he simply a masochist, trying, even after so many years, to punish himself for all the death that he had brought upon the world?

He doesn't know, and he hates. He hates it because he is Peter Paul Bloody Wisdom and he knows things. It's what he does, and he is what he does.

Christine sits on the bed, and slowly but methodically she buttons up her blouse, and he keeps staring at her back, unable to say a single word, even if he would like to. He would like to ask her to stay, to change her mind, but he will not. Because he never begs, and maybe...

He wonders if he isn't asking because he is scared that she could say yes, because if she would say yes... but then, he grins between himself, because she would never say yes, as much as she wants to – there's too much between them and their "happiness" (not that people like them could actually be happy), and besides, they know that., deep down, they are too different to actually work out in the long run: he is a spy and a killer, she is a scientist and a member of the X-Men; he has responsibilities towards his Country, and she does towards her family (surrogate and real); he is cynic, while she still believes in Charles Xavier's dream; he doesn't want a family, isn't even looking for one, and... and she is married. She has Alec, and that will never change.

Oh, he knows what she says, what she keeps saying. She tells everybody that it's over, that they are getting divorced and that this time is for real. He wonders if she still believes it, after so many times she has told this lie – this story, at least – at loud. Because this is what it is, a story. Doesn't matter what he did this time, every time it's the same story. Alec is the one breaking up, someone puts the pieces back together (her friends- Kitty, Rachel, Kurt, Amanda, Meggan, with her empathic abilities, Brian or even Clint, so close to her he has always been jealous of the archer), then Alec comes back begging for mercy and forgiveness, lying between his teeth and telling her he is oh, so sorry, and that's never gonna happen, ever again, and she agrees to take him back. Because he is her husband, because it's her fault as well, and because... doesn't matter why. At the end, she just does it. Every. Bloody. Time.

He knows she should do better than him, and he knows he doesn't deserve her, but still... it's not enough, not any longer, and he is sick and tired of this stupid game of theirs.

Standing at her back, he grabs her hands, stopping her from progressing furthermore into buttoning up her shirt; his lips find her neck, devouring it with angry kisses and bites, nothing slow or tender about it, and even if Christine knows she should stop him, put an end to this torrid affair once and for all, instead, she offers him better access to her neck, and moaning, grabs an handful of his boxers while he tears apart without any care the blouse, like he does as well with the underwear.

Pete is being... wild, and angry, but she isn't scared- a part of her thinks she should – because she knows this man. Despite all his faults, Peter Paul Wisdom is a good man. He would never force her – or nay other woman - to do anything she wouldn't do, and besides...It's not like she isn't agreeing with it. She is just liking letting him to lead for once.

She doesn't know how or when, but suddenly she is again on the bed, her back on the mattress that's still warm after hours of indulging in sex (because she'll never say they make love, they aren't making love, they are having sex and that's all that will ever be for them because there are just too many things getting in their way, and besides, it's not like they still believe in happily ever after with everything they've gone through), completely naked, with Pete kneeing between her spread legs, hard and erect, one if his hands keeping her writs in place, impending her any movement – and any possible escape.

Not that she would.

While he nudges her core teasingly with his length, he penetrates her with two fingers without preliminaries, going at it with force and strength and velocity and not giving a damn about her own comfort; she arches beneath him gasping in surprise, and he tries to use this at his advantage to kiss her, really kiss her, fully, on the lips – she has never allowed him this pleasure, never has Christine allowed their tongues to battle for dominance, claiming it was intimate, more intimate than sex, and they were, are just... not even friends with benefits (because they are not exactly friends) but just fuck buddies.

He tries to kiss her. And yet again, he fails, because she moves her face enough to allow his lips to fall on her cheek.

He clenches his teeth, prone to thinking that's always gonna be this way between them, and, at closed eyes, he bites her lobe as he penetrates her. he enters he to the hilt in one single movement, putting there all the passion and desire and lust and desperation and rage and yes, maybe even love. She gasps, and arches beneath him, already pushing her body against his, already asking for more. He hides his face between her breasts- full, round, slightly bigger than her frame should suggest, but completely natural - and starts to moves on top of her, hard, quick, strong, forceful, sending her soon into orgasm, already tightening around him.

As Pete struggles to keep control and resist the urge of letting it go along with her, she doesn't even try to meet his frantic movements; Christine merely clasps her calves around his body, massaging the back of his legs with her feet - small,, so, so small, like the ones of a Chinese woman, and extremely erotic and arousing. She allows him to do as he likes, giving him free reign on her body (but not her lips, never her lips, ever) and when, after having emptied himself into her body, he collapses on top of her body, for once, she doesn't stop him, doesn't move him away.

The weight of his body on top of hers it's new – she is usually the one on top, with all her control issues – but, somehow, it's welcome. Which, scares her like nothing before. And she has seen a couple of pretty awful things in her young life as a super-hero. God, why wanting this man is scarier than having to face Erik or En Sabah Nur?

Self-preservation kicks in once again, and she forces him away from her body, and when he tries to stops her once again, she just stands; she doesn't look at him, though, isn't able to. She takes a couple of steps, and gets dressed (tries to, at least, with her clothes being ruined because of him), without saying a word, fighting back traitor tears, tears that would tell the man exactly what she feels for him, something that she shouldn't, something that she doesn't know if she is allowed to feel to begin with.

Naked, he stands, and joins her, taking to stop her, wishing for things to be different, wishing for her to stay this time, but she merely shakes her head, embracing herself. No she'd like to tell him, but there's no need to- he already knows her answer.

Like he knows this game of theirs. He knows she'll eventually be back, and he knows that he'll take her back – into his life, into his bed - without even having to contemplate it. Because, despite his words, despite everything they've been through, despite knowing that she is too much for him, he can't help but wanting her, in his life, as a permanent fixture, but, if spending the nights surrounded by bliss and being heartbroken every morning is the only way to have her, so be it.

It will be enough, she'll be worth the pain, she is worth the pain. And, maybe, one day, he wonders, she'll get it. Maybe, on day, she'll decide to stay after the passion, to cuddle him and kiss him on the lips first thing in the morning.

One day. But not today.