AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first time uploading on , although I have been writing stories ever since I first learned how to write. Gosh, I hope I upload this thing correctly.

Well, anyways, Victor Creed/Sabretooth has been romancing my head for quite some time and I finally decided to post one of my stories. Please review. Thank you. Flames will be used to make tea.

I tend to write stories in fragments then, later on, I string all of the fragments together to make a story. This time I tried to do it from beginning to end. Here's hoping it works.



They were truly one of the Lords most wonderful creations. She thought on this again as she took in the scent of wet earth and pine and...comfort.

The twenty-year-old shifted her backpack on her back and paused to take a look around. It was quite possible that she was lost, but the brunette wasn't too worried. She had food and water in her pack, and she knew what she could eat and what she should avoid in the woods.

It was wonderful to be alone. No demands, no worries.

Little did she know that she wasn't exactly alone.

Victor Creed, also known as Sabretooth, crouched down completely unnoticed in the foliage, lethal and silent. The mustant had been hunting (he hadn't set foot in an actual store for years and years) when THIS woman had set foot in his hunting ground.

He let out a low, throaty growl.

If this had been the old days, he would have had no problem killing anyone-man or woman-who intruded on his territory (the only exception were children whom he simply scared off, sending them screaming to their mommies) but now things were different; he and that annoying crippled telepath had a deal. He could live out here in the wilds as he wanted-no, as he needed-provided that he killed or harmed no-one, mutant or human, except in self-defence or in the rescue of another (and even then it had to be extreme circumstances.)

No, he had to content himself with scaring the tresspassers shitless.

But something else was different this time; the great cat inside him (for Victor Creed and his feral Sabertooth were so entwined they were one) didn't want to hut this woman. Infact, the feral cat was growling out one word; *Protect...*

It had been a long time since he had used his voice, years since he had left Magnetos "Brotherhood" and he found himself working to find words, trying to say something other than a growl or a grunt. " doing here!?"

It amused him that she jumped about fifty feet in the air, and he smirked, showing pointy canines.

At the sight of him, the air was instantly filled with the stench of her fear.

Normally, he loved this; reveled in the heady feel of power the stink of anothers fear could give him. This time, though, it bothered him. He didn't want her afraid of him, and that confused him even more.

He didn't like being confused.

He growled low in his throat. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"

"I-I'm just walking, I d-didn't think I was on anyones private property."

He stood as still as stone, the only things moving were his hair and his clothes as the wind brushed them, watching her with unblinking yellow eyes, claws flexed.

A sudden clap of thunder made her jump and they both looked up at the darkening sky.

`Great...just great...` she thought, clutching at the straps of her pack as if they were a lifeline. `I'm alone in the woods...with a crazy homeless guy who looks as though he doesn't even know the meaning of the word 'bath' and now it's going to rain...`

The crazy homeless guy turned his back on her and then looked over his shoulder at her, grunting one wod; "Come."

She was sure her own eyes were now the size of dinner-plates. There was no WAY she was going to go with this guy.

There was another peal of thunder and Sabretooth gave a growl to rival it. "COME NOW!"

"Dude, I'm not going with you, I don't KNOW you!"

Sabretooth growled, then turned around and before she could even take one step back, he had her up in his arms and over his shoulder, bracing himself for her scream.

He wasn't dissippointed; she let out one huge caterwaul that made his ears ring and, quickly, he brought one hand down on her butt in a hard smack, pleased when it shut her up immediately.

"Did you just SPANK me!?" There was disbelief in her voice, some amusement, and he even caught a whiff of arrousal in her scent.

He chuckled low in his throat and picked up the pace. Very soon, moments maybe, it was going to rain...hard, and he didn't want her wet...or cold. She needed to be warm and dry and comfortable. She needed to be resting quietly infront of a warm fire.

Sabretooth nearly dropped her on the forest floor right then and there. These thoughts had never-NEVER-passed his mind before, except, perhaps, for his little brother Jimmy.

True, he had always been protective of his brother as they had been growing up; keeping him warm and fed, protecting him from threats, but not to this extend. He had NEVER wanted to keep his little brother secreted away, hidden, and as for keeping the kid quiet, he had always figured that the more active the "runt" was, the better.

But it was different with this strange, female frail.

Just then, the heavens decided to open up and pour it on.

Sabretooth hissed at the skies and picked up the pace. There was a well-hidden hunting cabin he had built for his own use for whenever he tired of caves and tress (which wasn't bloody well often) and it was this that he made for now, as fast as he could go on two legs (which was extremely fast, but not as fast as he could go on four.)

It was only fifteen minutes until Sabretooth reached his hidden cabin, but during those fifteen minutes, the frail was jostled about a great deal.

`I will not puke, I will not puke, I will not puke, I will not puke, I will not puke...`

Oh, to heck with it, if she WAS going to puke, at least she would do it on his back. But then-she thought, scrunching up her nose-she would have to deal with her face being in her own sick while her crazy kidnapper spirited her away to heaven knows where.

She noted the lack of rainf alling on her first, then the sound of a huge heavy door closing. Then she was dropped unceremoniously onto a very pungent pile of furs.

It was a soft landing, but she still ended up leaning over the furs and puking bile onto the earthen floors.

Thankfully, the throwing up period was very short, and soon she became aware of a warm hand on the back of her neck as she knelt over heaving.

"Breath." the voice of her captor, throaty and deep purred. "'s it."

It was scary how the feel of his hand on the back of her neck and the sound of his voice comforted her, helped to settle her. This man was a crazy kidnapper, she should NOT find ANYTHING about him COMFORTING!

As soon as her breathing leveled out, the hand left the back of her neck, then he was moving around.

She hid behind the curtain of her hair, still breathing, biding her time, but she heard the clink of flint and then the crackle of flame, felt the warmth on her cold skin and realized she was shivering, even though she had only been in the rain for a brief time.

There was the sound of some logs being thrown on the fire, then a gruff voice saying; "Get undressed."

Every muscle she had tensed, prepare to fight when her captor said; "I'm not going to *&^% you, frail."

She gaped at him from behind her hair (she still hadn't found the courage to tuck the curtain of her wet hair behind her ear) when her captor growled even louder; "Take them off NOW or I'll take them off for you!"

True, her clothes were wet and cold and uncomfortable, but they were still her clothes, and a barrier from this strange mad-man. She shook her head in denial.

He was on her ina second, tall and burly and far too strong for her to fight. She kicked and punched and screamed, but far too soon she was butt-naked, her clothes tossed in a pile infront of the fire. But as soon as she was naked, just as quickly she was wrapped in furs, bundled like a Russian bear cub, and plopped closer to the fire.

She gaped, still not certain what had just happened as her captor spread her wet clothes infront of the fire, obviously leaving them to dry.

When she continued to gape at him, he snarled at her. "SLEEP!"

Her mouth opened...closed...opened...closed...

He growled louder, and she leaned back a little on instinct, clutching the furs in shaking hands.

Sabertooth was NOT a happy kitty-kat. His mate was wrapped in furs now infront of a fire, on her way to being warm like he wanted, but she still stank of fear. The scent was like piercing metal in his nostrils, and he didn't know how to soothe her. So, instead, he busied himself with the fire, coaxing it into a strong blaze.

She needed rest. He knew this; could smell it...sense it, but she was wound tighter than a trip-wire.

"I told you-" he growled and she flinched. "I'm NOT going to hurt you!"

She cocked her head to the side at him and said nothing for a moment, then; "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

He growled louder at her. "I haven't yet, have I!?"

She stopped as she actually considered this.

He had frightened her, yes. Incredibly. But she was also now beginning to be warm, sheltered from the rain (which was coming down very hard by the sound) and her clothes were drying by the fire.

", you haven't." she stared at him hard, thinking, when suddenly, he was on her, his sharp canines inches from her jugular. She didn't even have time to scream.

After all his years in the wilderness, Victor Creed was more animal than man. As much as his instincts were demanding he protect and care for this frail, the very fact that she was looking straight athim-staring at him, made his hackles rise.

She didn't avert her gaze when he gave a little warning growl, and his instincts were screaming at him. She was under his protection, and that meant that she followed his rules and THAT meant that she absolutely HAD to accept his authority. Staring at, challenging him, was out. Way WAY out.

`Show her who is dominant.` his instincts screamed.

It was the law of the wild; the males protected, dominated the females. Nine times out of then, there wasn't time to explain to the female what had to be done, because it was usually a matter of life or death, which also tended to happen VERY fast. This was why challenging him was out of the question.

This was why his teeth were now resting on her jugular.

She thought of fighting for about a split-second, but knew even quicker how futile that would be, and so did what came instinctively, doing exactly what she needed to do; she submitted.

She went lax underneath him.

She stayed there for what felt like an hour but may have been only minutes, feeling his hot breath on her neck (the man needed to brush his teeth) and his heavy body covering hers (if it wasn't for the stranger-fear-factor going on, she probably would have liked that.)

Finally, he backed off.

"What did I do wrong?" she asked quietly.

Silence, then; " stared at me."

She blinked, flumozed. "And that's wrong?"

He growled.

Apparently that WAS wrong.

`Okay, note to self; no staring at the crazy man.` she thought, squirming around in the furs. "So what are you going to do with me?" maybe she shouldn't have asked that. She probably didn't WANT to know the answer to that.

The question beat like a hammer in Sabertooths brain. What WAS he going to do with her? His instincts supplied the answers;

Keep her warm.

Keep her dry.

Keep her fed.

Keep her safe.

He railed at them. `WHY!? What is she to me!? I should rip her throat out where she lyes!`

And what was stopping him from doing so? NOTHING! He snarled at her. She was a weak, little frail thing wrapped in the furs of his kills with wide, hazel eyes, easily killed by the elements. She probably couldn't even catch a rabbit.


He had feasted on a deer earlier, raw. A great stag. But how long had it been since she ate?

He growled at her commandingly. "STAY HERE!"

She jumped a little (at the volume of his voice, he supposed) then he was out the door into the pouring rain.



Caterwaul : (kat'er wall) n. the howling or screeching sound sometimes made by a cat. v. to make such a sound

Avert: to turn away (to avert ones eyes)