The Flight of the Valkyrie

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Flight of The Valkyrie
Chapter Nine: The Heat of the Moment
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. flagrant abuse of a Scots accent and loads of pirates. much badly mangled pirate speech
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

The Flight of the Valkyrie - The Index

Remy heaved a soft sigh and glanced around the vast hall yet again. Another feast was in full swing, the tables before them groaning with the weight of food and drink. People were clustered at the long trestle tables, eating, drinking and sharing stories. The large room was alive with bright, vivid swirls of emotion. Many of the people present were already well past drunk and had moved into the neighborhood of being completely bombed out of their heads. It allowed for emotions to run freely and he found himself shielding harder than usual to keep all of it from spilling into him and filling him as if he were some great cup. Given that the crowd was far too loud and far too boisterous, he felt that he was fighting a losing battle.

Today had been a particularly rotten day. As had many of the previous days. His entire body ached so much that it took work for him to simply lift his glass and take a drink of mead. Even worse, the best he could do at night was sleep a deep, dreamless sleep. It was so frustrating to go without sex when sleeping next to a warm, willing body. When was the last time he'd even gotten an erection? It was a sad, sad day when even his dick was too tired to stand at attention.

He'd never in his life realized just how much work it took to be a pirate. He'd learned more about the ship and its parts in the past few days than he'd thought possible. And he'd taken so many hits from Dare's blades that he was starting to think that a fight with a few Sentinels would be easier and less abusive. He was starting to hate this time with its backward ways and its backward people. He wanted to go home so desperately that he couldn't stand it.

He allowed himself to look around the vast hall and take in the sight of so many familiar and yet strange faces. Haley was doing her best trying to pretend that she wasn't eager to leave the table so that she could spend another night with Clinton Barton. Over the past few days, Remy'd been able to sense the growing attraction between the two. Haley's emotions were confused, as if she didn't think she had the right to be attracted to the man while Barton's feelings were tinged with frustration. Remy thought he sensed something else there, but it was too young and too undefined for him to even hazard a guess as to what it might be.

Jehnna, who had held herself back from many of the randy men to be found in Thor's hall, was busy chatting with a group of the refugee Witchbreed. Over the course of the week that they'd been there, more and more frightened of the frightened arrived on the island, seeking safety and sanctuary. So far, the giant Viking lord had yet to turn any of them away. The numbers continued to grow, yet the hall never seemed to grow smaller. And Jehnna had involved herself with these people. She took time to speak with them and get to know them, learning their stories and trying to find ways to help. When she wasn't doing repairs on the ship, she was in the middle of the refugees.

Once again, Rosemary had fled the table as soon as she'd been able. No doubt she was wandering the island in her cat form, seeking solace and silence out of doors. After the first feast and her night with the past version of Henry McCoy, she'd avoided contact with the men from Stark's ship and those that belonged to Thor. She would slip back into the hall on occasion, mostly to pick at some piece of meat or to have a drink of mead. Then she would leave again to take up her roaming once more.

Morgan was constantly with Robert Drake. It was a reminder that Drake was the man she'd chosen for herself. And even though this wasn't his Morgan, seeing her with Drake always sent a knife into Remy's heart. He hated to see her with another man, his emotions jumbled up and confused. Seeing the woman he loved, even if she wasn't actually the woman he loved, mixed up with Robert Drake was enough to send him seeking out the bed of another every night.

He was so tired of hiding his feelings. So tired of watching every one else enjoy themselves. So tired of feasting every night. Perhaps he'd get lucky and Dare would want to steal away before things got too out of line.

Dare. His gaze flicked lazily to his left. She was busy glaring holes at Stark's back, her food barely touched even though she was on her third mug of mead. This close to her, no amount of shielding would block the fact that she was boiling with anger. Anger that was slowly building up until he was sure she would explode in rage. When that happened, he didn't want to be the one on the receiving end of her temper. His eyes sought out the source of her anger and frowned.

Lord Anthony Stark was seated beside Thor, laughing and smiling at one of the buxom Viking wenches. She was sprawled across his lap, her hands roving wantonly and without embarrassment over the man's body. As yet, Remy hadn't been able to figure out just what kind of relationship there was between Stark and Dare. All he knew was that the man gave off just as confusing emotions as Dare did. There was something more than animosity between them, but Remy didn't dare hazard a guess as to what it was. All he knew was that Dare did her best to avoid Stark, went out of her way to anger him, then got upset by the fact that he'd turned his attentions to someone else.

Hadn't she done exactly that to him?

The wench laughed, a tittering sound that grated on Remy's nerves, and sat up so that she could press her bountiful breasts into Stark's face. Cold hatred slapped into him, bringing his gaze back to Dare. She'd slammed her mug down on the table top, sloshing mead all over the wooden surface. And there was such a look of murderous rage in her eyes that Remy was afraid for a moment that she'd slip and set everything on fire. That moment passed, though, as she stood away from the table and began a slow pace toward the smaller main table where Stark sat with Thor. Merde. This couldn't be good. Not at all.

Silence fell over the hall as Dare made her way toward her target. Remy thought that perhaps he should go after her, catch up to her and convince her to let it go. But he was smart enough to know that doing so would turn that boiling rage his way. He liked his balls right where they were, thank you very much. There was no option but to let this play out and hope that no one would get seriously hurt.

The last one to stop laughing was the wench. Her back was turned to the hall, so she had no idea that trouble was stalking her. But Stark's eyes followed Dare's progression as she moved closer and closer to where he sat. While the rest of the hall was mostly a mix of confusion and wonder, cold satisfaction rolled off of the arrogant son of a bitch that the pyrokinetic was after. Remy shook his head at that. thinking that Stark had no clue what kind of hell he was going to unleash upon the world. He'd spent the better part of the meal chasing after one serving wench or another. The Dare in his future would have called it playing grab ass. The Dare in his present obviously called it enough.

Did they have life insurance in the sixteen hundreds?

"Stark!" Dare's voice rang out loudly in the silent hall. The sound of it attracted the attention of the serving wench, who turned to look at Dare over her shoulder. The woman's frown suggested what she thought of the pirate wench. "Put the bitch down and face me like a mon."

"Bitch? Who do you call a bitch, pirate whore?" The woman's words brought some muttering from the women around him. Remy could feel the urge to get up and deal with her. By some unspoken word, they waited. Perhaps they wanted to see what Dare would do. Even Stark seemed to be less than pleased by the woman's question.

"Allow me to deal with this, Ingrid. Be a good girl and get down off of my lap." If the girl heard the patronization in his tone, she didn't make note of it. But she didn't slip off his lap. And headed straight for Dare.

"You've proven this past sennight that you want nothing to do with Lord Anthony. Go back to your pirate scum and warm his bed. I will be spending the night with Lord Anthony." The woman made the mistake of thrusting her face right into Dare's. Remy swore he could feel the flames as they licked at Dare's skin, begging to be let out. The Dare in the future had told him once, when they'd been dating, that there were times that it felt like the flames were trying to seduce her. She'd said that they burned just under her skin, attempted to caress and coax her. There'd been a sense of sorrow to her admission that he hadn't asked her about. And she'd never talked about her powers again. Something told him that this Dare was the same as her future counterpart.

Dare said nothing. She simply continued to stare at the serving wench, her eyes barely taking in the low cut bodice and the ample cleavage it supplied. But her frown tightened down until it looked like her face might actually hurt. The blonde wench took it as a sign that she'd won. She tittered out a simpering laugh that echoed loudly around the hall, then turned to face Stark. He watched her with a slight smirk on her face, not even moving when she sent him a kiss. Then she turned back to Dare. "Have you not hidden yourself away yet? You are but a child next to me. Lord Stark has told me repeatedly that he likes me woman's curves. You cannot compare."

The string of Gaelic that erupted from Dare was stinging even though Remy didn't understand a word of it. He watched as one of Dare's hands curled into a tight fist. She drew the fist back, then swung it forward. Her knuckles made a meaty sound as they thudded hard against the blonde's chin. The woman tumbled back, landing hard on her ass. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, staining her chin before dropping to land on the creamy expanse of her cleavage. Laughter and cheers broke out among the women around him. There was even some clapping. The motion of one hand by Thor saw a pair of serving wenches rushing in to retrieve their abused comrade. The trio hurried out of the middle of the hall as quickly as they could.

"Now that yer whore has been taken care of, `tis time fer me to deal wit' ye. Get off yer arse, Stark. Draw yer sword. Face me. Let's have this done." Dare reached for one of her blades, pulling it free from its sheath with one quick motion.

"Alasdare, you're making a spectacle of yourself. Put the sword away and go back to your table." Stark's tone was negligent. Bored. Remy watched as Dare climbed up onto the table to stand in front of Stark. She lifted her sword until it was pointed at his face, only inches from his nose.

"Afraid tae face me, are ye?"

"Hardly. You're no match for my prowess, Alasdare. And well you know it." A smirk accompanied the man's words. Remy watched as Dare's sword dipped until the tip pointed in the general direction of Stark's crotch.

"Yer prowess? Yer hardly a match fer me, Stark." Dare lifted her gaze to his and shot him a cold smile that should have driven the smug expression from his face. Apparently, Stark had never heard the old saying about hell and fury and a woman scorned. He was about to learn it first hand. Half of Remy thought he should get up and put an end to this before things got out of control. The other part of him shook its head and suggested he just sit and watch things unfold. Reaching out to take hold of Dare's tankard, he sipped at the mead and wondered how long it would take for things to explode. "My sword arm is better than yers."

Stark snorted in reply. Dare's smile turned into a grin. The tip of the sword inched closer to the man's crotch. "Ye cannae defeat me in a fight. And ye cannae please me in bed. `Tis why I've moved on to greener fields." She casually flicked her free hand toward Remy. The motion brought Stark's blue eyed stare his way. The man shot a scowl at him that might have been frightening if Remy hadn't been on the receiving end of one of Logan's scowls more than once. Still, Remy wished that Dare would leave him out of this.

"You're clinging to the memory of a dead man, Alasdare."

Though nothing showed on her face, Remy felt the swell of anger, hatred, love, guilt and self-loathing that rose up around Dare. If the other man had been expecting her to frown or cry, he was sorely disappointed. The only thing she did was smirk at him a little more. Her voice, when it came, held a note of wistfulness. "Mayhap, Stark. But that dead mon never had troubles pleasin' me. I cannae say the same about ye."

She made a point of looking around the hall and allowing her eyes to seek out every single woman present. The same smirk stayed plastered to her lips. The last woman she sought out was the wench who'd been in Stark's lap not all that long ago. Her smile changed, then, became something downright evil. "Dinnae fash yerself, lassie. I've saved ye from havin' tae lie to Laird Stark. I dinnae ken a mon alive who doesnae want tae think he's the best lover ever. Laird Stark is nae different. His wee monhood cannae take bein' laughed at."

The barb struck home with more than its intended victim. Snickering and chortling filled the silence of the great hall. Some of it came from the man's own crew and, if the look he gave them was anything to go by, they were going to regret laughing at him.

"Heartless wretch!" Stark growled out, rising to his feet while his hand sought the hilt of his sword. Dare laughed and leapt down from the table top. one hand beckoning him to come and get her. Stark ignored social convention and went over the table after her. Their swords clashed with a loud, metallic clang that left Remy's ears ringing. Sparks flew as metal ground against metal. "I treat you with the utmost respect and this is how you repay me? I should have left you in that hell where I found you."

Dare snorted, whirled away from him and back around so that they faced one another. The edge of her cutlass slid down the length of his blade. "Better ma own personal hell than this thing that ye've turned me intae."

The anger and self-loathing stood out strong with her words. There was obviously a history between the two of them that Dare didn't like. "You were a whore when we first met. I didn't do that to you, pet. I seem to recall you've always been a bitch in heat. It figures that you would move on to the next man when you got the opportunity. You'll come back, tail tucked between your legs, and beg me to take you once again." Stark swung his blade at her, a motion that she neatly avoided by jumping back. He pressed forward, as if he meant to run her through, only to stop when she waved the tip of her other cutlass at him.

"I think not, Laird Stark." The implication that she would rather die than be with him was left unsaid and plain to hear. Remy was surprised when a wave of pain rolled off of the man. His emotions were high, his feelings for her obvious. For whatever reason, Stark loved Dare. And her treatment of him was enough to drive him to distraction. Which was why he'd been flirting with every serving wench within the walls of the hall.

There were no more words then. Instead, the two of them threw themselves into the rise and fall of their swords. Neither gave quarter, each one battling hard for the chance to break past the other's defenses. Like his modern day counterpart, Anthony Stark was a shrewd fighter. Even though this version had no tech, he was constantly looking for any weakness to exploit. He drove at Dare with single-minded purpose, trying his best to upset her concentration or throw her off balance. Anything that would see her distracted for just a moment. Anything that would give him an edge. And Dare... She was exactly like her modern day version. Stubborn and willing to give her all until she had nothing more to give. Unlike her modern day version, though, this one was dangerous in more ways than one.

The clang of swords was loud in the near silent hall. Men who were normally loud and obnoxious were now silent, carefully watching as the combatants swung at one another with all their might. Movie sword fights had nothing on this. Stark used controlled strokes in an attempt to wear his opponent out. Dare's arms never stopped moving, rising and falling rhythmically as she blocked and swung at him. As far as Remy could tell, the two seemed evenly matched. And given the work outs that Dare had been giving him, he was fairly certain she could do this all night.

"Enough, Dare! Stop this at once!" Remy hadn't seen Haley leave her seat. But the taller woman had left the table just the same to step out into the middle of the fight. Her sword slammed down against theirs, jarring their arms until the two of them broke apart. The redhead stepped between the two of them, arms out to keep them both at a distance. "You've proven your point. Go back to your seat and finish your meal. You have yet to eat tonight."

The two women stood and faced one another, neither one moving. They simply stared for some time, as if caught in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Dare stepped back and sheathed her swords with a flourish. Then she stalked back toward the table and Remy, the fires of Hell burning in her eyes.

~*~

"Why step between us? Doesn't it give you joy to see Alasdare take her aggressions out on the man she claims ruined her life?" Stark didn't look happy at all. He watched Dare as she returned to her seat before turning his attention to Haley. She had no idea what the man was talking about, but decided it wise not to let on. Maybe he would spill something more. No other juicy tidbits were forthcoming.

Haley sighed and shrugged a shoulder. Why was the grass green or the sky blue? She'd done it because Dare was her friend and she was in no mood to watch the woman make an ass of herself. But that was nothing he needed to hear. So she came up with a better excuse. "Because this is no more healthy for her than drinking mead or rum or ale all night long. She's vented her anger. Now she can go sit and behave herself."

"Alasdare does not know how to behave. It is against everything she is." There was something like admiration and respect in his voice. Apparently, the man liked her just the way she was. Perhaps he liked her too much.

"Don't take this to heart, Lord Stark. Dare is hard headed, but she isn't purposefully cruel. And she's not stupid. Give her time. She'll see that what she feels for you is something softer than hate."

He chuckled at that. "I was unaware that she could be soft. It is that feistiness that draws me to her as a moth to a flame."

"I said softer. Not soft." Haley allowed herself to chuckle, too. The shift of his attention warned her that someone approached. She glanced away from him to see that Dare was closing the distance between them, sipping at her mead absently. Oh, no. That didn't bode well.

"M'laird." Dare mocked as she stopped before them. "I hope ye enjoy yer mead." She tipped her tankard toward him as a salute, then flicked her wrist and tossed the beverage in his face. She said nothing more, simply stood there and smirked at him. Stark wiped mead from his eyes and regarded the woman with a faint frown for several seconds. She only smirked at him in return.

He turned and stared at Haley. "Softer, you say?"

She shook her head at him. "Give it time. She's spent much of her life around sailors and pirates."

If that surprised him, it didn't show. He merely turned to look at Dare, who had yet to return to her place at the table. A glance at the other woman told Haley that she was hoping that there'd be an opportunity for a second fight. Perhaps someone needed to take the Scots wench outside and push her head first into the bay. Maybe the chill waters of the ocean would clear her head. Stark's soft snort drew her eyes back to his face. He was scowling. "The wench is in need of a firm hand. Perhaps if someone had taken his belt to her backside long before this, she wouldn't be such a cold and cruel bitch."

"`Twas men like ye, Stark, that made me the cauld and cruel bitch that I am." There was mocking in Dare's voice. And something else. Something he understood, if the way the skin around his eyes and the corners of his mouth tightened. He muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely Gaelic, then turned and stalked back toward his seat. When Haley faced Dare, it was to find her smirking after him.

~*~

"Damn it, woman! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Haley's voice was loud and carried across the still nearly silent hall. When there was no answer forthcoming, Anthony pivoted on his boot heel to see what kind of look the rotten wench was giving her friend. He was mildly surprised to see that the wicked glee had faded from her face, replaced by something almost melancholy. A momentary pang saw him contemplating retracing his steps, dragging the ungrateful bitch into his arms and kissing her until she melted against him. It had happened before. He knew it could happen again. He didn't do it, though. He knew what would happen if he tried.

In all the years he'd known her, she had never once opened up to him about her past, about her family and her life before she'd taken to the seas. Oh, he knew all about her. He had ever since he'd first heard her name pass the queen's lips. But she'd never told him what had made her run away and take up the life of a sailor. He'd never been able to get that information from her. And he'd never seen her so... lost. That was the only word for it. Each letter he'd delivered had seen her withdrawing more and more, until every bit of those softer emotions her friend had just spoken of were encased in a shell comprised of rage and hatred. What troubled him is he couldn't tell just who it was she hated more. Him or herself.

Something had broken inside of the fiery Scottish lass this past week. Something he couldn't name because nothing on this earth would make her tell him what it was. He cast a quick glance toward the table where the Robert Lord look alike sat. Perhaps that young man was the answer to this whole mess. No matter who he was, Anthony had no doubt that the other man could accomplish what he himself had been unable to do. Alasdare had already attached herself to him and he could see, much as it pained him to admit it, that she was already in love with the man.

Perhaps he should sit back and let this stranger break through every single one of the barriers that she'd built up around herself. Because of their arrangement, there was no way the girl could give herself over to anyone without fearing for that man's life. She'd avoided men and the danger they represented. Until now. If there was any way to save her, this young man would be the one to find it. Mayhap it was time to talk to the boy. Alone.

"There's naught wrong with me," Alasdare finally told her friend.

"Liar. Had I not stepped in, you would have killed the man."

"And this would matter?" Alasdare shrugged her shoulders, then shot her friend a scowling glare. "Dinnae get betwixt us again, Haley. Ye willnae like the consequences if ye do."

Haley snorted. "Lord Stark is right. You need someone to apply his belt to your backside. Mayhap that would knock sense into that thick skull of yours." As if to prove her point, her hand went to the heavy sword belt at her waist. Dare's eyes narrowed on her.

"Try it and see what happens."

"You can threaten me all you want, Dare. You can try to set me alight if you want. But I'll still carry you out of here like the squalling brat you're behaving like and dunk you head first into the bay! Mayhap that will cool you down."

"Touch me and ye'll live tae regret it, Haley."

"Oh, aye? And what will you do, Dare? What will happen if I touch you?" Anthony saw the menace lurking in Alasdare's eyes. He wanted to shout out that the wench would set fire to everything if she was pushed to it. But he didn't dare. Despite the fact that Thor seemed to be harboring quite a few Witchbreed, the fact remained that many people didn't trust them. And if they were to discover that Alasdare could control fire, it might not go well for her. He still didn't understand how it worked and he'd known her for a long time. Never one to be superstitious, he held firm to his belief that there was no such thing as magic.

If there was, though, Alasdare surely held it inside of her somewhere. And as he stood there, watching while Haley reached for the other woman, part of him screamed that he should shout out a warning, do what he could to protect everyone in the hall. Another part of him held the news back, afraid of what would happen if he did so. He wanted to close his eyes to the coming horror, but he found he couldn't look away. And when Haley's arm wrapped around Alasdare's arm...

It was like nothing he had expected. Both women froze, as if caught in a trap. A moment later, Alasdare tilted her head to the side. It looked as if she was listening to a voice only she could hear. The anger cleared from her face to leave raw hunger and lust in its wake. Haley released the girl's arm, her hand instead reaching out to cup the shorter woman's cheek. A soft, feminine smile slipped across Alasdare's lips, then the two of them were wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Their mouths met and clashed, clung to each other as the girls melted into a blatantly sexual kiss that brought a fresh wave of silence to the inhabitants of the hall.

~*~

Rosemary came to a halt upon re-entering the hall, shocked by what she saw. Haley and Dare were wrapped around one another, their mouths melded together while their hands roamed with abandon up and down each other's bodies. It was and wasn't a strange sight. There had been many times the girls had turned to one another for comfort and sexual gratification. Those had all happened while they'd been at sea, away from the men in their lives. Until Dare's stranger had arrived at the Black Unicorn, Morgan had been the only one to have her lover on board the ship with them. And they'd always been careful with their affair. And the girls had never once shown any kind of sexual affection for each other before the men who crewed the sloop. It was safer for everyone involved.

So it came as a surprise to see two of her friends twined around each other, as if they were two different types of ivy growing side by side, touching one another as if they were alone. Even as she looked on, their hands were working at their clothes, intent on pulling the offending garments off in order to reach the flesh hidden beneath them.

Something about this wasn't right. Rosemary couldn't quite put her finger on just what was wrong, but her instincts insisted that this wouldn't have happened if someone or something hadn't pushed them into it. What was even more troubling was that no one seemed to be willing to put a stop to it. Every person in the hall, every man and woman, simply sat where they were and stared at the two bodies in the center of the large room. Even the members of her own crew simply watched, as if this was so terribly common place.

A face she'd seen in the crowd struck a chord with her, prompting her to once more scan through every single person cluttering the hall. Her eyes went right past him a second time before she stopped herself and sent them back to where she'd seen him. A pair of blue eyes stared at her out of a face that appeared to be tanned, but the tone was too even and not as dark as one would expect from someone who spent his time out in the sun. It reminded her of the Chinamen she'd seen in port a time or two, but the shape of his face and eyes wasn't quite the same. And he smirked at her in such a way that she thought he might understand what was going on.

She wasn't sure if it was the way he watched her or if it was a certain way he shifted his head. It suddenly came to her why his face looked familiar. Though his build was leaner and he was taller, the man she stared at looked back at her out of a face that reminded her so deeply of James. There was a strong resemblance to the man she liked to warm her bed with. But the differences, though slight and small, were enough to have kept her from noticing right away that he looked so like her lover.

Just as soon as she recognized why he looked familiar, he simply faded into the crowd, losing himself in the shadows. Rosemary shook herself and moved to break her friends apart before things got carried away.

She felt everyone's eyes latch onto her as she moved into the middle of the floor, following her as she picked her way toward her friends. Both of their sword belts had hit the wooden planks beneath their feet already and they were trying almost desperately to rid themselves of their clothing. Dare's fingers plucked at the ties on the gown Haley wore while Haley was busy pulling at the lacing on the other woman's corset.

"Dare. Haley. Stop this. People are watching you." Rosemary's voice was soft in an attempt to keep everyone from hearing her. There was almost something unnatural about the way the two of them clung to one another, as if they had no idea what it was they were truly doing. She reached for both of them, her hands closing around their arms at almost the exact same time. Something hot washed over her, leaving her feeling muzzy in the head. Then wild lust rushed through her and left her with no room for any thought but joining her friends...

~*~

It had been bad enough watching Dare and Haley grab at one another as if they were utterly unaware that they were in public. But to sit by as first Rosemary, then Jehnna and finally Morgan had been sucked into the display. By the time Morgan had made her attempt to break her friends apart, Haley was completely naked, as was Dare. Rosemary and Jehnna were well on their way to ridding themselves of their clothes. And they were busy helping Morgan out of hers.

Robert stared at the five of them, unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle they were making of themselves. He'd heard about this, of course. Morgan had never hidden her more sensual nature from him, going to great lengths at times to describe how her encounters with her friends went. It had long been one of the excuses she'd used to keep him at arm's length when he'd mentioned marriage to her. Any time he would suggest that they wed, she would mention her relationship with the other four women and tell him that she wasn't about to give up her life because he thought he loved her.

He'd never thought to see one of their encounters first hand.

The five of them had gone to the floor, using their discarded clothing as cushioning against the hard wooden planks beneath them. From his seat at the table, he could see broad expanses of creamy pale skin. Arms and legs were wrapped around bodies while mouths and fingers quested for the places that brought soft sighs and moans. Haley and Dare had pinned Rosemary to the floor, their silken tresses hiding the fact that their mouths fed hungrily from the other woman's breasts. Jehnna had Morgan pinned against the floor, one of her long legs pressed between Morgan's shorter ones. Their mouths met as they kissed, Morgan's hands cupping Jehnna's bum tightly. The smell of their woman's musk was already flooding the air.

Unable to stand the vulgarity of the display any longer, Robert rose from his seat and hurried toward the pile of bodies on the floor. "Morgan, my love. You shouldn't be doing this. Please. Stop it now. All of you stop."

His hand brushed a thigh and a tingle of something thick shot up his arm. He found himself being tugged down to the floor by both Jehnna and Morgan, their hands making quick work of his tunic and breeches. He helped them between fondling a breast here or drawing his fingers across swollen flesh there. As soon as he was stripped of his garments, he was pressed down to the floor on his back. Jehnna's mouth was hot and eager as it wrapped around the length of his erect cock. Morgan's lips found his nipples and sucked at them, teasing them until he moaned and his body writhed with need.

His blood boiled in his veins, begging him to find some kind of release. Consumed by his lust, Robert rolled and pinned the girls beneath him. There was a soft squeal from one, husky laughter from the other. While his mouth sought the closest set of lips to his, his hands found bountiful treasure in the form of a pair of breasts with tight, hard, peaked nipples. A single tug brought a soft moan from the throat of the breasts' owner. A questing hand found his erection and squeezed it.

Need washed over him like a wave, sucking him under until the only thing he could think of was the softness of a woman's flesh, of burying himself completely in the moist heat of a female body. Of fucking until he couldn't move. His hands went seeking more treasure, intent on making the best of this night.

~*~

There was something strange on the air. He'd noticed it shortly after two of the pirate wenches had started fondling one another. Haley and Alasdare had been so intent on each other that they'd seemingly forgotten that there were other people in the hall. So focused that they'd stripped themselves nude before one and all. Any control that he'd had over himself had flown away at the sight of their shapely feminine forms. He'd been digging his fingers into the wooden table top for the some time now, but his brain didn't even register the pain any longer.

Henry McCoy had always considered himself a gentleman and a gentle man. Never once in his life had he considered taking a wench against her will or joining in where he hadn't been invited. But the events of this evening were sorely trying his resolve. Almost from the beginning, his body had reacted to the sight of two naked women wrapped in one another's arms, caught in an invisible web of ecstasy. And now, he was fighting with himself. Fighting to maintain his seat and not join the group of bodies sprawled on the floor in the middle of the hall. Fighting a losing battle. Because he could smell their desire riding the air.

It beckoned him to join them.

A soft moan came from one of the women in the pile, drawing his attention to her. It was the pirate captain. She lay on her back on the floor. Her hands were speared into the thick head of hair belonging to one of her crew. The man was feasting from the pale perfection of Morgan's breasts, his mouth latched onto one nipple while the other fondled the twin globe. Based on the way the man's hips moved, it was a safe bet that the woman's hand was curled around his shaft, hidden in the way the man was on his knees, his back arched over his legs as he suckled at her breasts.

As if that view wasn't enough to tempt, one of the other women had settled herself between the wench's thighs. Jehnna's hair was splayed around her head and across Morgan's legs and belly. It gave the appearance of a halo, dark as sin and streaked with fingers of golden, heavenly light. Even from where he sat, Henry knew that Jehnna's tongue was teasing at Morgan's flesh, working her toward a climax that they would no doubt hear all over the hall.

The trio of women drew his attention, their bodies only a few feet from the other group. They knelt together in a small circle, their knees touching as their hands and mouths roamed every inch of exposed flesh. A pair of heads were bent over Haley's chest. It was obvious that Dare and Rosemary were suckling at her breasts. Each woman's hands were hidden behind flesh colored screens. Haley's head was tipped back, her neck stretched taut. Her mouth hung open as she gasped for breath, her eyes closed against the desire he smelled roaring through her.

One of her hands lifted, dug into the thickness of Rosemary's hair. She tugged the woman's head back, then claimed her mouth with her own. The kiss was deep and fast, long enough to leave Rosemary momentarily addled. Then Haley lifted her head and turned her hungry mouth toward Dare. The two women tumbled to the floor, leaving Rosemary on her own.

As if sensing his stare, she turned glittering golden eyes his way. The raw need in them spoke to him, called to him. Without realizing that he'd done it, he rose from his seat and made his way toward the lithe figure of the lone woman. She welcomed his hands, took hold of his arms and pulled him to her, pulled him down to the floor so that he covered her. His mouth latched on to hers, his hands questing for the delicious curves he'd tasted that first night. Her body writhed under his, a silent call to the beast that lurked inside of him...

~*~

He'd never seen such a debauched display in all his life. Oh, he'd heard rumors that there were women who would engage in fornication with other women, but he'd never thought to see such a thing. His upbringing in the church suggested he should be shocked and repulsed by what was taking place in the middle of Thor's hall. The uprising in his breeches suggested that he was enjoying it much more than his mortal soul was supposed to.

He'd never much cared for what the church said he was supposed to do.

Such situations had been described to him by his tutors during his education as a young boy. Several sources of text had even contained in depth writings about ancient Roman orgies. The best tomes had had pictures of figures twisted into amazing positions, with all manner of body parts being inserted into so many different places. Those books had been the start of his sexual education taught him a thing or two about pleasing a woman. But those books hadn't prepared him for being witness to such unbridled debauchery in person.

In the beginning, Clinton had been more than eager to sit back and watch. Body and mind had agreed that watching first two, then three and four and finally all five of the pirate women touch, taste, tease and tantalize one another. But then the first male had joined the party. He thought that was okay, especially seeing how the pirate had climbed between Morgan and Jehnna. Shortly after that, he'd been shocked to see his comrade and friend take his place within the group.

Henry had gone straight for the solitary Rosemary and, as soon as he'd laid his hands on her, the two of them had gone straight to the floor. Upon losing the companionship of the third woman, Haley and Dare had turned their attention toward one another. Presently, the two of them were pressed together from knee to nose, their mouths meeting as they kissed deeply. Their chests rubbed against one another, though there was a small difference in height that neither seemed to notice. In a mirror image of one another, one woman's hands rested on the curve of the other's ass. Even across the distance, he could see that their fingers were kneading.

It was almost too much for him. Bodies twining around one another, mouths and hands seeking and touching. Naked skin, creamy and bronzed, gilded by the flickering light of the candles. The slow, languid rise and fall of hips. The heady, ever growing smell of lust as it rose off of each participant. Soft moans, guttural grunts, gentle sighs and quiet cries that painted the air with every last bit of emotion the group on the floor felt. It was almost enough to see him leave his seat and join in, if only to be allowed to feel what they were feeling. His hand itched to slip into his breeches almost as much as it itched to touch Haley's sweet, silky flesh.

And then, Haley turned sparkling green eyes his way. His heart froze in his chest for just the barest of moments. A second later, cloudy grey eyes found him and he was pinned under the weight of both women's gazes. They were still pressed tightly together, their cheeks rubbing as they stared at him. He could see that they'd each shifted a leg forward so that their thighs rubbed against one another. The candle light picked out a singular drop of sweat as it beaded up on Haley's skin and then glided down over the outer curve of her breast toward her hip.

God in heaven, he'd never seen a more enticing sight in his life.

Dare smiled at him before turning her head so that she could whisper in Haley's ear. He saw her mouth moving against the woman's ear, a feather soft caress that brought shivers to his spine. At the end of whatever it was she said, her tongue traced the outer rim of the redhead's ear. Haley turned to stare at her, allowing Dare to swoop in and take her lips in another kiss. Almost as soon as it began, it ended. Dare pushed away, then nudged Haley away from her. Even before Haley gained her feet, Dare was watching him with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

A flash of long, pale leg drew his attention from Dare to Haley. She was on her feet, walking across the floor. Walking away from him. He watched the way her hips swayed, the perfection of her heart shaped arse as it shifted with each step. The path she was on was taking her toward the table where the crew of the pirate ship sat. Straight toward the strange young man that he'd been unable to gather information on for his captain.

His eyes were locked on her as she leaned across the table. Her hands reached out to cup the man's cheeks and draw him toward her. There was a second or two that they simply stared at one another across the table top. Then they moved closer. Clinton swore he saw the man's eyelids flutter closed only a moment before their lips met. The kiss held for a minute or more before it ended. Haley broke away from him and turned away, took a pair of steps before glancing back at him over her shoulder. With a wink and a smile, she crooked a finger at him and motioned for him to follow her.

The stranger actually vaulted over the table to follow her, his hands already working at releasing him from his tunic and breeches.

Some part of him, some utterly irrational part of him, demanded that he step in and prevent her from playing tart for the stranger. Hadn't he seen with his own eyes that the other man seemed to have some kind of emotional tie to Dare? And didn't she cling to him as if he were the last sane thing on the planet?

Before he could think about what he was doing, Clinton rose from his seat at the table and made his way to the end, where there was a gap for him to pass through. He picked up the pace and hurried toward her, catching up with her just before she would rejoin Dare. Haley stopped and watched him with bright eyes, barely taking notice of the other man as he passed them both by and went straight to where Dare waited. "Haley," he began, but she laid a finger against his lips.

Heat poured through him, filling his veins with lust. His hands took her face and drew it toward his so that his mouth could press hers. The moment the softness of them touched him, the madness that had taken control of the pirate wenches swept over him. Clinton's hands were harsh as they curled around her arms.

He barely took note of the other couples as he rode her to the floor, his mind whirling with every single thing he wanted to do to her and every act he wanted to perform with her.

He didn't care who was watching them, either.

~*~

"The female body is a beautiful thing, my friend. One should never turn down the chance to admire it. Especially when there are many different beauties to admire." Thor turned to glance at Anthony, a smile stretching his lips wide. While such an event as that taking place on the floor of his hall had never occurred here before, he was pleased to witness it. The sight of so much feminine flesh, naked and displayed without abandon, had his tights fitting much tighter than was normal. He didn't mind it one bit, either.

The frown that pulled Stark's mouth down at the corners was deep and intense. His gaze was locked on the spot where his wench was pinned to the floor by the man she'd brought with her. Both were naked and it was more than obvious that they were engaged in bed sport. It looked to him as if Stark was terribly displeased with this turn of events. And Thor had thought things were going well.

After the fiery Scots wench had doused Stark with her mead, the man had returned to take his seat beside the Viking lord. It had looked, for a short amount of time, that the two women were going to burst into battle right there in the middle of his hall. That would have made for a perfect evening. There was nothing a Viking liked more than fighting. Well, perhaps fucking. But that went without saying. Thor had been all set for an epic fight to break out between the pirate wenches. Imagine his surprise when, instead of clashing swords, they had clashed lips. The sight of the two of them had been all he'd needed to find his tights ill-fitting and tight.

That hadn't changed one bit as the night had worn on. With the addition of each successive female, the bulge in his crotch had only gotten bigger and more painful. Not even adding a handful of men to the sex play had lessened his need to plow the fertile flesh of so many horny wenches. As lord of the hall, it was his right to join in where he saw fit. His guests would not be able to nay say him. But he'd determined at the beginning of the evening that he would not enjoy the willingness of a wench unless his friend did the same. And so he had held himself back, mostly content to simply watch the spectacle unfold before him.

Now there were four men involved and the man sitting at his side was utterly displeased with the way things had gone. Leaning over, Thor motioned toward the fucking couples with one hand. "If you do not wish to see your wench with another man, mayhap you should get your arse in there. Remove yourself from your chair. Glaring will get you naught. Put your pride away, stupid bastard. Get in there and claim the wench as your own."

Anthony turned to glare at him. Thor sighed and shook his head. Stubborn Englishmen. `Twould be so much easier for them if they would only embrace the ways of their Viking brethren. `Twas no wonder the wench walked upon the man as if he were naught more than carpet. Frowning, Thor turned back to the writhing bodies displayed so wonderfully before him. "You are a fool, Lord Stark. If you continue to sit back and do nothing, you will lose her to him."

"I didn't ask for your counsel, Thor."

"Nay. Mayhap not. But you require it. Join the wench. Ravish her in the Viking way. Claim her as your own before it is too late."

Stark only muttered something and reached for the tankard before him. Stupid bastard. Shoving the man's idiocy aside, Thor gave his full attention back to the group on the floor. The strange young man had risen off of Stark's wench and now sat on the floor with the girl straddling his lap. They were no longer fucking, his hands seeking out the curves of her breasts while his mouth trailed a path of kisses down the side of her throat. Pleasure rode her, her head tossed back so that her hair dragged the floor. Her mouth hung open and her fingers dug into his skin. It was a glorious sight..

Similar images met him as he allowed his gaze to travel over the other women and their partners. The tall redhead was presently wrapped tightly around Stark's man. The blonde had been smitten with the wench almost from the beginning and had played nicely into the little trap that the Scots woman had set for him. Even Thor had been able to see what she'd been about by sending her friend to fetch the young man with her. And young Barton had walked into head first without even realizing that he'd been played like a lute. The two of them were lost in their own little world, completely oblivious to those around them.

The pirate captain was still entangled with the young man from her crew, the wench called Jehnna alternating between playing with her captain and her captain's lover. No one had yet to break the three of them apart, though Thor had seen some of the other women inch closer a time or two in order to plant kisses upon their mouths or to fondle some exposed area of flesh.

The wench with the golden skin was sitting astride another of Stark's men, the one Thor had been told was some manner of healer. The big man had curved large hands around the wench's breasts and squeezed them in time with her hips as they lifted up and dropped down over his cock. Though he was flat on his back, there was no missing the way his hips snapped up to meet hers each time she took him into her body.

There was feasting happening at the tables, the mead was flowing like water and many of his guests were watching the fucking taking place before them. It was a fine evening's entertainment. If not for the man sitting at his side, regarding everything with a scowl, it would have been the perfect way to end the week the pirates had spent at his hall.

As if sensing that there was something amiss at the table, Dare and her young man both turned to look at the places where Thor and Anthony sat. A wicked smile spread across the young man's lips, then he turned to press a kiss on the wench's mouth. As if he'd spoken to her instead of kiss her, she looked up at him in silent question. The man leaned in and whispered softly in her ear. As he did so, his hands moved across her flesh, fingers teasing her breasts and nipples. She shuddered, giving a slight nod to her head when he finally pulled away to look at her. And then she climbed from the young man's lap and slowly made her way toward the two of them.

Thor didn't have to glance to his side to know that Anthony was watching her come.

When she reached the table, she dropped down to her hands and knees and crawled under the table. Her head popped up between Thor's thighs. She glanced up at him, then allowed her gaze to slowly trail down to his crotch, where his cock strained against his tights. Grinning at him, she pushed her way between his thighs until she could press a trail of kisses against his shaft. A shudder rippled up his spine when she closed her lips over the head and gave a gentle suck. Then she climbed up in his lap and sat, making sure to press the moist warmth of her pussy against his erection. Her mouth found his and kissed him, sending tingles of heat rushing through him. "Come join us, m'laird." She breathed the words against his lip before sliding from his lap and turning her attention toward Anthony.

"Alasdare?" His voice was pitched low. She merely leaned over his chair, her hands planted on his shoulders. His hands found her hips and held her while she closed the distance between them. Their mouths met. Stark's hands pulled away from her hip and buried themselves in her hair. When she pulled back, the blue of his eyes was clouded with desire.

"Come and join us, Stark. There's always room fer one more." Without another word, she turned and leapt up onto the table. She was met on the other side by the young man, who tossed a wink their way, then scooped her up into his arms and carried her back toward the nest of clothing on the floor.

Thor rose from his chair and vaulted the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anthony do the same.

~*~

Steven watched as Anthony left his chair, his eyes locked on the form of the wench who'd just left one man in order to fondle him and the Viking lord. It seemed as if his captain was under some kind of witch's spell. In all the years he'd known Anthony Stark, Steven had never known the man to engage in the kind of behavior that he'd been witness to in Thor's hall this night. It was rather frightening to see the other man so easily pulled into what was obviously an unnatural act.

Even as he began closing the distance, Anthony was ridding himself of his clothing. While the other man had always been something of a rake, he'd never been known to strip naked in front of a group of men and women like this. Steven rose form his seat and headed toward the end of the table. He had to stop Anthony before the man fell prey to whatever supernatural powers were in play in Thor's hall.

"Anthony," Steven hissed as he stepped up beside his captain and friend. "Stop this. `Tis madness. Do not allow them to pull you into their debauched orgy."

"Lighten up, Steven. A little debauchery never hurt anyone." Even Anthony's voice sounded as if the man were bespelled. Steven shook his head and reached out to catch hold of him. He had to stop this madness however he could.

His fingers closed over Anthony's arm and the strangest sensation took him. Heat tingled in his fingers, flooded up his arm until it could pour into his torso and fill the rest of him up. He found Anthony watching him, an entirely too knowing look in his eyes. "Trust me, Steven. Being debauched is a good thing."

Almost as if his feet were following an unspoken command, Steven found himself following the other man into the middle of the group of bodies. A feminine hand reached for him, pulled him down toward the floor. And he went, hunger and need filling him until his body ached with it. The need to couple with one of the wenches, obviously so willing and eager, drove all thoughts of witch craft and spells from his head.

A pair of lips upon his cock, bared to the room and painfully engorged, drove everything else form his head...

~*~*~*~*~

She found him in the garage, wrench in his hand as he tuned up the bike. Naturally he smelled her before she even came through the door, but he let her come to him in her own time. She was upset and nervous. That much was plain to tell and he didn't need a super sensitive nose to figure it out. Everyone had been on edge ever since Fitzroy's power play. And it was only getting worse. Each day that passed without some head way being made to find Gumbo, the girls got a little more tense and a little less in control.

He felt like he was caught in the middle. Caught between Dare and Xavier. Caught between the shit that flew between the two of them. He'd been considering asking Hank to dope her up so that she'd sleep, but she'd taken care of it herself. So far, Chuck hadn't said a word about his fancy wines disappearing.

"Shit." Haley sounded more lost than upset. He took that as his cue to give her his attention. Setting down the wrench, he rose to his feet and looked up at her. It looked like she hadn't been sleeping well, either.

"Something wrong, Haley?" he asked.

"I was hoping that I'd find Dare here with you. We were supposed to have a session in the Danger Room. I thought that if she maybe let some of her aggressions go in a training session, she might..." The girl trailed off before she even finished the thought. It was obvious that she didn't believe what she was saying.

"I ain't seen her since lunch." He frowned and leaned up against the nearest car. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her at lunch. Damn it. Haley sighed, a deep thing that let him know that she'd noticed Dare's absence, too.

"I think she's drinking again, Logan. Morgan mentioned the other day that Dare's flask is missing from her closet. She was keeping it in one of her shoe boxes. She didn't think that Dare would look for it in with her high heels. We both know that Dare isn't really girly." Haley's attempt at humor failed. She turned worried eyes his way.

"She's been keepin' to herself."

"Its like she never came here," Haley shook her head. Logan snorted. He remembered very well what it had been like when Dare'd first arrived at the school. She hadn't had time for anyone or anything but Morgan. And her first Danger Room session had nearly seen her opponent in the infirmary for third degree burns. "My team's falling apart and I can't do anything to stop it."

"Morgan still avoiding you guys?" he grunted the question, then reached into a pocket for the cigar he'd stashed there. She barely noticed when he lit it, drew in a deep breath and let the smoke go. Then he clenched the stogie between his teeth and looked up at her.

"Not as badly as she was. I don't know what happened, but she's interacting with us once again. She's still not quite all there, but she still joins us for meals and stuff now." Haley's voice trailed off and she looked over his head. Logan suspected she was staring at something he couldn't see. "Why hasn't the professor done anything yet? Why is he stone walling us?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, Haley. Man's got his reasons. But I don't get `em."

"His inaction is ripping my team apart." Gone was the confusion and sorrow. In its place was anger, deep and thick. One of her fists clenched at her side, probably an unconscious action on her part. She shook her head then looked at him, Fire burned in her eyes. "He needs to get off his ass and do something. My team and I worked too hard to get where we are for him to fuck it all up. If he doesn't want to find Remy, let us do it. We'll find Fitzroy and put the screws to him. I'll put a collar on the son of a bitch myself and beat the shit out of him if I have to."

"You know that ain't gonna fix this. Even if Fitzroy could tell you where Gumbo was, how would you get him back? Last I checked, none of you girls could manipulate time."

"I'll find a way, Logan. Trust me. I'll fucking find a way."

The determination in her voice made him chuckle. He had no doubt she would. Shaking his head, he turned and picked up the wrench once again. "Dare told me that Gumbo took her out to the gazebo a time or two when they dating. Look for her there. I ain't been able to find her in any of her usual hide outs. She's even been avoiding the wine cellar lately."

Haley nodded. "Thanks, Logan."

"Haley?" His voice caught her as she was walking away from him. She stopped at the door and turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"What?"

"You find her, you tell her that I gave you permission to kick her ass."

"I'll do that, Logan." Haley was gone without another word. Logan grunted, dropped his cigar and crushed it out with a boot, then went back to his bike.