Fanfic Time: Don't Pity Me part 4

Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:

Fracture Four: Other Pains

  Kitty had had to tell Lance, and he’d come right over. Of course, if anyone else from the Institute had known about this, they would have both got the third degree. So they met clandestinely at a secret breach in the fence on the west side of the estate. Kitty took him to a clearing in the woods that she knew about.

  One of the secret places that she and Kurt knew about. She needed that proxy-contact with Kurt, because she was doing this on his behalf. She needed a guy’s-eye-view on this whole deal, and none of the other guys she knew were talking.

  His first words, beyond the usual platitudes and that silly rhyming nickname, were, “The Freakshow was *what*?”

  “Do I have to like, spell it out?” Kitty curled up on herself. The rock was warmed by the sun and clean, but she still felt dirty and cold. "He was like, raped and robbed. I wanna like, know how that can *happen*. I mean, guys are like, *strong*. How can you like, let things like that happen?“

  Lance plunked himself beside her. "Guys are easy,” he said. “Even though we might not like someone doing something, you know… we can't help but - react - sometimes. There’s a point of no return in there, somewhere. A guy’s gotta - youknow - keep - *going*? You feel ashamed and filthy afterwards, and as guilty as all hell because part of you enjoyed it at the time. It’s - wonderful-awful. Hell and heaven in the same instant.”

  Kitty’s heart sank. “It happened to you, too. Didn’t it?”

  Lance was very quiet. “Getting raped by a girl is nearly okay,” he said. “When you’re raped by a guy - that *really* gets you screwed up.”

  _OmyGod…_ “Oh, Lance… I’m like, so sorry…” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him and prayed it made him feel better.

  He held her tight, deepening the kiss with a moan. He tasted like an ashtray, but he felt kinda nice.

  There was a hardness in his lap, under her hip. It was like sitting on a rock with a pulse.

  And all of a sudden, he was moaning her name, and moving her around like a puppet and kissing her everywhere he could reach.

  “Oh, please. Oh, please,” he whispered. “I gotta. I need you. Oh, Kitty… Oh, please…”

  Kitty had never done anything like this before. She was scared. She tried to wriggle free but his arms were like iron. _Just relax,_ she told herself. _Sex with someone I love can’t hurt. It never hurts when I like, ‘practice’…_

  “Lance…” she tried, still a little scared. “Like, what about like, consequences?”

  “Take it easy…” he’d undone her cardigan and pulled up her top and was kissing his way into her bra. “You can’t get pregnant the first time. Just relax. Please, Kitty, I need you. I’m gonna die if I don’t… Oh, please…”

  And he was fumbling with her pants while he held her arms and his hips were moving in a motion she’d only ever seen on screens, before. And then he was taking down his pants and Oh, God… she couldn’t look.

  Kitty squeezed her eyes tight shut as the cool air met her naked bottom. As something hot and hard pressed against her. And into her. And Oh, God… it hurt. It hurt bad. And Lance’s hand was over her mouth and he was still saying 'please’ even though his mouth was full of her left breast and it *HURT* and she just wanted it to stop and she was just so scared and she couldn’t stop crying.

  She was full-out sobbing by the time he was done. It hurt like someone had punched her 'up there’. And he was still on top of her and he was *sleeping*. How could he *sleep*?

  How could she have let it happen? She could have phased away at any minute.

  But she was scared, and she kind-of loved him…

  _Not so much, any more…_

  Now she knew why Kurt didn’t want to punish Tabitha. He was ashamed of himself. He could have gotten away at any moment, but he wasn’t thinking like that at the time.

  Lance took his weight off her, and Kitty curled up into a foetal ball. She couldn’t make her hands work. All she could do was watch as Lance tidied himself up.

  “Thanks, Pretty-Kitty,” he said. “I really needed that, you know. Look, I’m sorry if I hurt ya, okay? You were real sweet. You’ll get over it. It’s okay. You’ll see. Tomorrow, you’ll feel all right. You’ll feel better than all right.”

  All she could do was cry and hold herself tight.

  “Fine. Whatever. See you Monday, huh?”

  And he walked away.

  Just like that, he walked away.

  Her mouth tasted like ash and she could still *smell* him and it *HURT* inside and he just like, *left*.

  Kitty cried like a small child, her wails lost to the infinite sky.

*

  Wild One had to come back to the holy place, to see if Sweet-Innocent was okay.

  She wasn’t. Sweet-Innocent was hurt. Crying and alone in the dark. No-one should be left to cry alone in the cold night air.

  Wild One crept closer, smelling stale blood and even staler cigarettes. The Bad Man had left his mark on her. Poor Sweet-Innocent.

  Someone whispered _Katzchen,_ in the back of his head, but Wild One never needed names. He never needed anything or anyone.

  But he felt drawn to Sweet-Innocent.

  In the dark, he could see the attempt she’d made to cover herself. It hadn’t worked because she couldn’t get herself out of the huddle she was in. The place that was hurt the most was still exposed to the uncaring night.

  “Who’s there?” she trembled. “Mr Logan? Mr McCoy? Scott?”

  Wild One didn’t have words. He only had action. He crept closer. Poor Sweet-Innocent. She was cold.

  He had Civilised-Things. Things he didn’t really need. They just made his fur all ruffled. Wild One took two off. The easiest two that didn't have button-things or zippers or anything fiddly and difficult to use. Just the things from his top.

  Sweet-Innocent was crying, but she was half-asleep. Still calling for help.

  Wild One put his Civilised-Things over her exposed flesh, and the voice that whispered, _Katzchen,_ seemed satisfied.

  Sweet-Innocent was terrible thin. And wounded inside by a Bad Man. She needed comfort.

  Wild One knew one comfort he could get. Food. Everyone felt better with food. He leaped away from Sweet-Innocent and gathered good things for her to eat, leaving them in a little hollow on the rock near where she rested.

  When she woke, she would eat, and she would feel better, and she would groom herself and be good again. And then, only then, would Wild One allow himself and Fight to hunt down the Bad Man and make him hurt twice as much as Sweet-Innocent had hurt.

  Bright lights pierced the darkness.

  Hunters!

  Wild One fled them without thinking. The Hunters would find Sweet-Innocent. She couldn’t run.

  But Sweet-Innocent looked more like Hunters than Wild One did. Maybe they would take her in as one of their own.

  Wild One watched, hidden and fearful, as the Hunters found her. He watched them scoop her up. Watched her embrace them. Watched them groom her and help her fix up. Watched as one of them took a few of his offerings and puzzle over them.

  Only the best for Sweet-Innocent. Only the best would make her feel better.

  Satisfied that she would be all right with the Hunters, Wild One ran away.

*

  Logan sniffed the air. “Elf was here, but he didn’t do it.”

  Hank had bundled Kitty inside a blanket and was shushing her. One of her hands was pulling at his fur as she cried.

  “Alvers. I should have known that little scumsucker’d do something like this. Elf musta tried to help, after. Why didn’t he come to us?”

  A pair of golden orbs in the night blinked, and there was a retreating scuttling in the night.

  “I think that was him,” said Hank. “I think something else may have gone wrong.”

  Logan sighed. “Look after the kid. I’ll get the Elf.” He picked up the freshest scent, taking a short-cut across the four-dimensional world of the scent trail. There was something off about his scent. Something he couldn’t define. Something wild.

  Stalking carefully, he followed the trail.

*

  There was a hunter after him. He was a cautious one. A tricky one. Almost as wild as Wild One was. Wild One had to pause a little because of that thought. Were there allies? Friends beyond the family he knew? There was Sweet-Innocent…

  One of the Civilised Others knew her, and had to filter her through Wild One’s understanding.

  He found a good place to hide, and asked the Others.

  There was Sweet-Innocent. There was Friend-Fighter. A number of faces had more complicated ideas. Wild-One couldn’t take them all at once.

  This one, the Others had said, was a Hunter. And a friend. And - hostile. And all sorts of things. Was he trustworthy?

  The Hunter had found him! Wild One retreated deeper into his hole, watching the figure in the night. He stopped, then knelt on the ground, and closed his eyes.

  One of the Others had seen him doing this. Quiet sitting for inner peace. The Other had tried, but inner peace was hard to attain with so many other voices.

  What was he *doing*? He could be attacked by anything…

  A squirrel crept up to the Hunter. Investigating him for food, no doubt. Squirrels liked people. Chittering, it hopped up onto the Hunter’s lap, then climbed an arm and investigated the tunnels made by his clothes.

  The Hunter didn’t twitch.

  Wild One risked emerging a little from his bolt-hole. There was only one exit, anyway. He kept his eyes on the Hunter. The Hunter didn't move. Not a muscle.

  The squirrel, bored with the Hunter, hopped away into the night.

  Wild One crept closer, checking out the Hunter’s scent. An Other knew that scent. Not a Hunter. A Teacher. But was he *safe*?

  “That’s it,” whispered the Teacher. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. Just wanna take ya home. It’s warm in there. 'Ro’s cookin’ a big ol’ turkey…”

  Wild One’s stomach growled. It had been sunset when he’d come forward for the Other. It was well into night, now. All that time on fear and no food wasn’t good for the body.

  The Teacher held out a hand. “Friend,” he said. “See?”

  Wild One sniffed. Touched it with a forelimb.

  And in one quick motion, the Teacher-Hunter had him. Fingers closed around him. Another hand reached up to his neck and then the body wouldn’t work any more.

  All Wild One could do was howl. Caught. He was *caught*.

  The Bad Times came if he was ever caught.