The Flight of the Valkyrie

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Flight of The Valkyrie
Chapter Ten: Aftermath
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

Milky light shone through the small, squarish window set high in the wall of the chamber. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough to pull Jehnna from a very sound, very deep sleep. Her cheek was pressed up against the bared back of her captain. The hand that rested on the curve of her breast belonged to Robert Drake. What was he doing with them? And why were they naked?

Jehnna sat up, groaning when her head started pounding annoyingly. Apparently, she'd had far too much mead the night before. Was that the reason for her lack of clothes? But that didn't explain why she was in bed with her captain and her captain's... Just what the hell was Robert Drake to Morgan? She and the other three women who crewed with her knew that Drake followed their captain upon orders from her father. And because he loved her and wanted to marry her. So far, Morgan had managed to turn Drake down every time. Jehnna had no idea what Morgan felt for the man.

Just as she had no idea what the three of them were doing in one of Thor's beds together.

Carefully, so as not to disturb the other two in the bed, Jehnna slid from under the covers and settled her feet on the floor. The cool air hit her skin, making her nipples pucker while bringing up goose flesh all over. She hurried to the hearth and began adding fresh pieces of wood to the banked fire. The tip of the poker stirred up the coals and, in short order, there were flames licking greedily at the logs.

Watching the fire eat away at the wood, she was assaulted by images of large fires located in the center of a long feasting hall. Thor and Lord Anthony Stark had sat at a table by themselves while the twin trestle tables were loaded with Stark's people and Morgan's people and Thor's people and even some of the Witchbreed refugees. And the floor between the trestle tables had been writhing with naked flesh.

Jehnna felt her face flush with the memories.

She was by no means virginal. Time at sea and in the presence of the other four girls had seen to that. Her stoic, gentle Russian lover had seen to that. But she'd never thought to engage in any manner of sexual play before an audience of strangers. Last night, she'd done that without any reservations at all. One moment, she'd been sitting at the table, enjoying her meal. The next, she'd been twined around someone on the floor.

She hadn't had that much mead to drink. Had she?

Frowning, Jehnna tried to recall just how she'd ended up in the pile of limbs. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to place how she'd gone from sitting at the table with a serving of whatever Thor's servants had made settled before her to being naked and rolling around on the floor with a bunch of naked men and women. She didn't know how that had happened, as if the time between her meal and her clothes coming off had been erased from her memory. And the more she searched her memory for those missing moments, the hazier they became. The last time she'd checked, it would take more mead than she was sure she'd drunk to do that. So just what had seen her stripping down naked before an entire Viking hall filled with people?

Curious, Jehnna searched her brain to see if any other part of the night was missing. She could almost painfully easily follow the progression of the evening from the moment she'd stepped foot into the hall, through the meal and drinks, past the hazy spot right up to the very second that the mass of naked bodies had broken apart and each group had wandered off to their own destinations. She'd seen Rosemary stalk off, each of her hands curled tightly around one hand each of their host and the blonde she'd seen with Stark. Rogers, she thought. There'd been a predatory look on the woman's face and in her stride.

Shortly after that, Haley had disentangled herself from the pile, then reached down and pulled her own blonde to his feet. Clinton Barton looked as if he'd been slapped upside the head with some kind of lust spell. He'd happily followed Haley, as if he'd had nowhere else he'd wanted to be. Jehnna's sainted grandmother had dabbled in the arts, so she'd known what she was looking at. Surprising Jehnna, though, was the dark head of Lord Stark emerging from the pile. He'd trailed after Haley and Barton, catching up to them easily. And Haley had, in a very uncharacteristic move, pulled him to her other side and walked out of the hall tucked between the two men.

This had left Dare with Remy and a man that Rosemary had told them was named Henry McCoy. Without any kind of fanfare, she'd tugged them both after her and left the hall with both men in tow. Jehnna had thought to stay behind when Morgan left with Robert, but her captain had surprised her by taking hold of her hand and pulling her along behind them.

"Dear God," she muttered, her cheeks flushing bright red. They'd ended up in this room. At first, Jehnna hadn't wanted to be there. She'd tried to leave. But Morgan had been insisted that Jehnna stay. The shorter woman had begun trailing her hands over well known flesh, enticing Jehnna to her side until the two of them had been wrapped around one another, their mouths locked and hands stroking over every curve. And then she'd found Morgan pushing her toward Robert.

Robert had seemed a little reluctant at first, but his reticence had slowly died away. He'd pulled Jehnna down to the bed with him, his mouth taking hers while his hands had skimmed over her skin. Heat had raced through her, blotting out spans of time. She went from laying on top of him to laying under him. At one point, she was caught between Robert and Morgan, their hands roving up and down her flesh. And then she was sitting atop him, riding astride the man's cock while Morgan sat on his face. The two of them had been leaning in toward one another, their lips pressed together as their hands stroked and caressed. It was the last really coherent thought that she'd had.

Someone had left a pile of garments across a bench. Jehnna pulled a gown from the pile and tugged it over her head. It was a of a simple design, with lacing under the arms to tighten it against her frame. Her hands went through the motions absently as she considered what had happened here. The fear that she'd somehow damaged the relationship between Morgan and Robert rose up to leave her even more confused about what had happened. Robert loved Morgan. But last night. he'd acted as if he'd had no feelings for her. Would they no longer be... whatever they were to one another after this?

"Jehnna? Is zere something wrong?" Morgan's voice was sleepy. Jehnna turned to face her captain, a somewhat apprehensive look on her face. The two women stared at one another across the room for a few moments before Morgan's expression cleared and she heaved a sigh. One hand threw the bed clothes aside, allowing her to crawl out of the bed. Unabashed with her nudity, Morgan crossed to where Jehnna stood. The Frenchwoman laid her hand on Jehnna's arm. "Are you embarrassed by what we've done `ere?"

"I don't know that I would call it embarrassed," Jehnna shook her head. She didn't really want to tell the other woman exactly what it was that bothered her. She knew that Morgan found a new excuse to tell Robert no with every one of his proposals and she was afraid that what had happened between the three of them last night would serve as another one. But to tell Morgan that this was what bothered her would likely upset the woman. "It was... unexpected. I do not understand what happened last night."

"What is zere to understand? We `ad sex." Morgan shrugged a shoulder carelessly. Jehnna had come to realize that there was a unique grace to the move that she attributed to the country of the woman's birth. "Zis is not something unusual."

"But, Morgan," Jehnna frowned and shook her head. "Do you not think that it is unusual that it happened at all? There was something strange happening in the hall last night. I can't remember why I joined the group on the floor. I should remember that. Shouldn't I?"

To her credit, Morgan didn't answer right away. She gave deep thought to what Jehnna had said. A frown crawled across her face as she considered it, only to deepen as she remained silent. Time ticked away as she obviously searched through her memories of the night before to see if she could recall anything important. Eventually, Morgan looked up at Jehnna and shook her head. "Zere are things missing. My recollections are `azy."

"So are mine," Robert's voice was filled with sleep but he was watching the two of them alertly when Jehnna glanced his way. "Something strange was afoot last night."

"Si," Jehnna agreed. Something very strange had been afoot. There was something unnatural about a dozen people, a dozen strangers, ending up naked in a pile together. Especially as they'd been in front of so many people. God in Heaven! All those people. Jehnna muttered a curse in her native tongue and promptly felt the eyes of the other two people in the room land upon her.

"Jehnna?" Robert sounded more awake now, his voice not quite as deep as it had been moments ago. Or last night. She shoved that thought aside and twined her fingers together nervously.

"Last night. All those people. They saw everything."

"So?" Morgan scooped up the other gown in the pile and casually tugged it over her head. "Zey saw us. Zis is a big deal?"

"What do you think all those people will think of us now, Morgan?" Jehnna made sure that her voice came out steady and even. The shorter woman would only poke fun at her if her voice was filled with embarrassment or prudish tones. "We played the part of whores last night. And everyone will think so."

"I believe you are over reacting, Jehnna." Morgan's voice was breezy, but Jehnna could hear that she wasn't as certain as she tried to sound. A glance toward Robert told her that he was considering what the sexual excess they'd been part of the night before would mean for them. Not necessarily the men, because it was known far and wide that men could do no wrong when it came to sticking their cocks where they chose. But women who took their clothes off for anyone other than their husbands were little more than whores who would sell themselves to any man with a coin or two to his name.

"Do you?" Jehnna sighed. As each of them had grown up in different parts of the world, with different families, it was likely that each of them held different views about things. But given the reach of the Pope and the Catholic church, it was unlikely that any of them had been taught something different where women and sex were concerned. Not even the Church of England, created by the English queen's father, held different views about women and sex. Just about marriage. "It is one thing for us to be pirates. It is another for us to be so openly free with our affections."

"Since zese men know we are pirates, zey likely already see us as whores. Do not worry about what you cannot change." Morgan tried for a light and breezy tone. But Jehnna could hear the worry in her words. She was thinking about what people would think about them as much as Jehnna was.

Jehnna opened her mouth to speak on the subject further, but Robert spoke over her, his voice soft and filled with displeasure. "Morgan is right, Jehnna. There's nothing we can do to change the opinions others might hold about us. The best we can do is face these people with our heads held high."

Jehnna gave the man a skeptical look. Her captain stepped up to her and wrapped her arms around Jehnna's waist. The smile she wore was a cross between bedroom coquette and high seas blood thirsty. When she spoke, there was a wicked glint in her eyes. "And our swords in our `ands."

~*~*~*~*~

She didn't want to leave the warmth of the bed, but instinct was screaming at her to get up and get out before either set of arms tightened around her. If they did that, she'd never be able to tear herself away. Not after the things they'd done last night.

Of course, much of what had happened was still hazy. Try as she might, it was nearly impossible to pull every single tiny detail from the corners of her brain. She could clearly recall rolling on the floor with Dare, though how that had happened was a mystery to her. And she could clearly recall waking up in her chambers sandwiched between two men. But the bits and pieces that made up the stretch of time between last night and her wakening were lost in a fog.

She'd barely made note of people joining them. Once she'd been pinned to the floor the last time, she'd stopped paying attention to any of the goings on around her. Instead, she'd allowed herself to be swept up in the moment. Hands had moved all over her skin, belonging to both men and women, while hot mouths pressed against hers, closed around her nipples, found the burning desire centered between her thighs. And when someone had suggested to her, in a soft and low voice right beside her ear, that they retire to her bedchambers, she'd had no reason to deny herself the pleasure.

Once she and her two companions had found her chambers, they'd fallen to the bed in a tangle of limbs. Both sets of hands had stroked her body, fingers pinching and teasing while their mouths had moved over her skin. She'd next found herself on hands and knees, the thickened length of one cock pounding into her from behind while her mouth worked almost frantically at the cock pressed into her mouth. She'd been on her back, one of her partners fucking her vigorously while the other had teased her breasts and the tiny bit of flesh that brought her screaming to climax time and time again.

The night was a blur of different positions, of questing hands and mouths, of being ravaged by the swollen length of one cock or another. She'd basked in the sensuality of it all, glowed as they'd heaped words of desire and praise upon her. She'd cried their names out again and again and again, allowed them to take her however they chose. She'd loved each and every second of their couplings.

In the morning light of a fresh day, she was wondering if doing so had been such a good idea.

Someone had thoughtfully brought garments for them. A small pile of clothing rested upon a bench near the door. She found the single gown and pulled it from the stack, grateful for something to cover her nudity. Perhaps, if she wasn't nude, she wouldn't feel so uncomfortable about what had happened the night before. She made quick work of tugging the ties at the sides into place.

Putting on clothing did nothing to dispel the discomfort she felt. A soft sigh drew her gaze toward the bed. The gap where she'd been laying was gone, replaced by the simple act of one of her lovers rolling into it. God in Heaven. One of her lovers? Despite her life as a pirate, she rarely took men to her bed. And last night, she'd taken two men into her bed like some common tart. What had prompted such an action? And what would both of those men think of her when they woke?

Panic lanced through her, prompting her to turn away from the glorious sight of their well sculpted forms and hurry toward the door. She had to leave before they woke. Some place inside of her was terribly afraid of what she might learn if she didn't. Her hand was on the knob when a soft voice stopped her, accompanied by the touch of a hand on her arm. It wasn't threatening, but it scared her all the same. "Is there something wrong, my dear? Why would you get up and leave before being properly greeted to the day?"

Haley turned to stare at Lord Stark, her eyes wide with confusion. He was smiling at her, his hair mussed with sleep and his body blatantly naked. Blatantly naked and obviously terribly pleased to see her. Had she really engaged in sexual acts with Lord Anthony Stark last night? As if in answer to her silent question, a memory flashed through her head, an image of Stark on his back while Haley rode his cock. Her head was tossed back, mouth hanging wide as she tried to draw a breath. Clinton sat behind her, his hands curled over her breasts while his mouth blazed a trail against her throat and shoulder.

Her body clenched with the remembered pleasure. Horror filled her. What had she done? She'd slept with Lord Anthony Stark. Dear God, Dare would kill her for that!

"I don't think I should stay. I don't know that I should be here when he wakes. After what happened here last night, I don't think he'd be as welcoming as he has been."

Stark smiled at her, the look in his eye suggesting he knew something she didn't about her relationship with his crew member. "I think he'll be far more welcoming waking up with you still in his bed than me, my dear," he told her.

"But... Last night," she began, then stopped and frowned. What about last night? She still didn't quite understand what had happened last night. The more she considered her actions, or what she could recall of them, the more she wondered just what had been going on in the hall. Something strange had been going on there because spending the night with two men was terribly unlike her.

"I doubt there will be any complaints made about the events of last night. Trust me, Haley. He will be most happy to see you." She wasn't so sure of that, despite the tone of Stark's voice. It suggested that his word was law. Perhaps he used that voice so much because he was of noble birth and was reported to have the ear of the queen. His exploits were things of legend. The man was supposed to have avoided the efforts of every last mother in high society to marry him off to their eligible daughters. Or themselves. Rumors suggested that he'd asked for the hand of some noble's daughter years ago, only to have the girl refuse him. Subsequently, he'd turned to his womanizing ways and had vowed to never marry. Ever.

She couldn't imagine any woman in her right mind turning down such an offer. Anthony Stark was a handsome man who had titles and lands. It was suggested that he was richer than the queen. Though he'd had the names of ladies from all across the land linked to his name, there had never been any scandals. As far as Haley knew, there were no bastard children running about. There had been no duels fought. Nothing that would name him anything more than a womanizing rogue. And the legends about his sexual prowess were not exaggerated. He was a prize catch for any woman. Had Haley's heart not belonged to another, she would have been tempted to try and woo him to her side.

Which made it difficult for her to understand just why it was her shipmate insisted on constantly pushing the man away from her. Dare couldn't do much better than someone like Anthony Stark and it was more than obvious to Haley that he had feelings for the Scots wench. But Dare pushed him away every opportunity she got, used her vile temper to keep him at bay. What was going on between those two? She'd been acting so strangely last night before they'd all ended up in a pile on the floor. What was it Stark had said about his ruining her life? Haley would have lost herself in those thoughts, but he obviously didn't like being ignored. "There is no reason to run, Haley. We're all consenting adults and you can spend the night with whomever you choose."

She tried to find the words to explain to him that behaving in such a debauched manner wasn't something she usually engaged in. For all intents and purposes, she was still defined by her upbringing. And her parents had instilled in her the belief that a woman was worth more than the simple pleasure her body could bring to a man. But such words were not readily forthcoming and Lord Stark didn't bother waiting for her to find them. "You took pleasure in coupling with us. Just as I'm sure Alasdare took pleasure in coupling with her young man."

His words and the tone in which he spoke them put Haley on edge. When she looked up at him, she could see that the teasing that he'd been looking at her with only moments ago was gone, replaced with a calculating gleam. She'd seen that look before. Not in his eyes, but in the eyes of other men who didn't believe that a group of wenches were smart enough to sail a pirate ship. That look said plainly that he wanted something from her and he was going to use whatever means necessary to get it. Chances were good he thought he could charm her into giving him what he asked of her.

Stark was out of his bloody mind if he thought she was stupid enough to fall for such a trick. No wonder Dare was always so angered with him.

Well, two could play at that game. "I'm quite certain she did. Dare has always taken great pleasure in loving men. Though she seems to want to run the other direction whenever you make an appearance. I wonder why that is?"

She watched as his lips flattened into a thin line. "Alasdare does enjoy trying my patience. Willful wench."

"Its one of her most endearing qualities," Haley replied.

"And does her young man think so?" There was no teasing in his voice anymore. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes at him. What made him think that anything Dare did was any of his business?

"I wouldn't know. I haven't ever gotten into a conversation with him regarding Dare's feelings for him." Not that she needed to. There was always some hint of softness lurking at the back of the Scottish woman's eyes when she gazed at Remy. Haley couldn't really decipher those looks because there was always so much in them. While she knew that Dare felt something for Remy, she also knew that it was complicated and couldn't be named with any kind of ease.

Stark pursed his lips at that, obviously considering what she'd told him. "Have you spoken to her about her feelings for him?"

"I have not," she told him quietly. He started to open his mouth but she lifted a hand and halted him. "Even if I had, Lord Stark, I can assure you that I wouldn't discuss her emotional state with anyone. Not even you. I happen to be Dare's friend and anything she was to tell me would be kept secret. The only way I would consider discussing her emotional state with you would be if she gave me express permission. Which I very much doubt she would do."

"I could pay you any amount you asked for. I would happily make it worth your while, my dear."

"Anthony." Clinton's voice was rough with sleep. Both Haley and Stark swung around to look at the man. He was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled in his lap. Haley couldn't stop herself from letting her gaze slide down the length of his chest. "Leave her alone. If you wish to know about the wench and her man, ask her yourself. Don't pester her friend."

She swore she could feel his gaze as it raked over her. She didn't see anything in his face change, but something was different. When his eyes locked with hers, it felt as if something jolted through her. Tingling sensations coursed through her, left her wondering if the same thing that had happened last night was happening again. "Why have you gotten dressed, Haley?"

"That would be my doing, Barton. I was going to send our girl here out for something to break my fast with. Go now and fetch that meal," Stark said, one hand slapping against Haley's ass in much the same manner that a man would slap the rump of a horse. She shot him a look.

"I suggest you put your clothing on and go fetch your food yourself, Lord Stark." Clinton's voice was cold. For a few seconds, the two men stared at one another. Stark looked more amused than insulted. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and turned to the pile of clothing. The room remained silent as he garbed himself in the provided attire. When he was fully clothed, Stark slipped into a mocking bow then left the room without another word.

Clinton slipped from the bed and crossed toward her. "Did Lord Stark do something to upset you, Haley?"

"What? No." She shook her head.

"Then why were you dressed and ready to leave?" He stopped before her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. She stared into his eyes and wondered if he had perhaps seen and heard more than he was willing to admit.

Haley ducked her head, which was a mistake. It was obviously a very good morning and it appeared he was pleased to see her there. Sighing, she lifted her chin and caught his eyes again. There was amusement in their blue depths. "Last night... What happened here is like nothing I have ever done in my life. And I don't think its something I'd care to repeat. I know you likely think I'm a woman of loose morals, but..."

"Haley, my sweet. I've known from the beginning that you aren't a casual woman. Whatever happened here last night will remain here. And you've nothing to be embarrassed about." His hand shifted from her shoulders, slid down her arms and took hold of her hands. One at a time, he lifted them and dusted a kiss across her knuckles before turning her hands so that he could press a lingering kiss into the palm of each of them.

"But..." she began. He smiled and shook his head, then released her hands so that he could put a finger to her lips.

"Haley, there is nothing to be embarrassed about." He leaned in and brought his lips to hers, giving her a gentle promise of a kiss. She sighed and inched closer, slipped her arms up around his shoulders. His hands came to rest on her hips. "Now, my sweet. Seeing as we've got that straightened out, perhaps you would be so good as to take your clothing off and rejoining me in the bed. I believe I know exactly the way to distract you from your concerns."

Even as he finished his sentence, his fingers plucked at the ties that held the gown close to her body. Haley grinned at him and stepped back, allowing him to pull the garment over her head. It was tossed aside without thought. "Do you now?"

He swept her up into his arms, drawing forth a squeal of laughter. A few strides saw him standing beside the bed. She squealed again as she felt herself go airborne for just a moment. She'd barely hit the softness of the mattress before he settled down on top of her. "Aye, lass. I do."

His lips silenced the laughter and drew a long, soft moan up her throat.

~*~*~*~*~

The nose ruffling scents of wood smoke, dried sweat, mead and stale sex woke Rosemary from a sound sleep. She found her cheek pressed against a smooth expanse of skin. The sound of a heart beating thumped under her ear. The slight weight of a hand rested at the small of her back. Glancing up, she found herself staring into twinkling blue eyes filled with amusement. The smirk on his face told her everything she needed to know.

"Let go of me, thunder god."

"Do you greet every man you use as a bed in such an ungrateful manner?" He was teasing. She could hear it in his voice. Rosemary sighed, deciding that Dare's few short, terse sentences about the man were dreadfully accurate. He was little more than a giant lech. As if the feel of his morning erection pressed against her flesh hadn't already told her this.

"You are the first man I have used as a bed, so aye. I do." She used a hand to shove his arm away. He let go of her easily, though his smile had yet to fade away.

"Mayhap I should use my expansive knowledge about pleasuring a woman to change your mind," he suggested lightly. He lifted his hand to stroke the tips of his fingers down the length of her arm. The tone of his voice and his action brought a faint smile to her face. He was painfully charming when he chose to be. If she wasn't needed to help restock provisions on the ship and prepare it for their departure tomorrow, she might have considered spending more time in bed with him.

"And mayhap I should take a sword to your manhood," she shot back though her voice lacked heat. Thor smiled at her.

"Twould be a glorious exchange, wench. And what would follow would be yet another glorious exchange."

"Naught would follow were I to take my sword to your manhood, thunder god," Rosemary replied, a hint of pleasure coloring her words. Her other nature sometimes left her feeling anxious and on edge. The mere thought of shedding a little blood had her trembling with desire. That told her that she'd been on land too long, been around men too long. She needed to leave the hall and seek out the quieter places. She needed to go somewhere private where she couldn't hurt anyone. She offered him a smile even as she tried to slide off of him. The moment he sensed the tension in her limbs, his hold on her tightened.

"There is no need to run off, wench. We have time a plenty to indulge in our baser urges. There is much I can do to you that will bring you great pleasure." The man sounded so sure of himself. And, had she not felt the need to rip him apart so that she could bathe in his blood, she might have allowed herself the opportunity to enjoy his body once more. But the animal instinct was so terribly close to the surface. She had to go.

"I've no time for you, thunder god. Turn your attention toward someone who seeks it readily. My passion is the sea." Instinct saw her reaching up to push his arm away. Perhaps he hadn't been expecting her minor attack. Perhaps she'd shoved harder than she'd planned. Whatever it was, the arm that had recently been holding her down flew across the bed to land harshly on the third member of their group.

"Five more minutes, my sweet," a sleepy voice grumbled as the owner's body shifted onto his back. Rosemary stared in shock at the final partner in the threesome. The man belonged to Lord Stark. She'd seen them together once or twice during the past week, knew by simple observation that the man was the exact opposite of his captain. Where Stark was outspoken and arrogant, where he was outgoing and assured of himself, the blonde she wasn't laying on was quiet and modest. He'd kept mostly to himself and Rosemary had sensed a muffled unease cloaking him, as if he was uncomfortable with his surroundings.

The man went from sleepy to alert in an instant. She could tell by the way his muscles tensed and by the sudden change in his scent. Cracking open an eye, he turned his attention to the two of them. She watched as thoughts and emotions tumbled through his blue gaze until they finally turned almost glacial. It was a stark contrast to the heat and warmth she'd seen in them only hours ago.

Memories spilled across her mind, images flickering from one to the next. Her back pressed tightly to the wall while the thunder god took her standing up. Her hand was curled around the other man's cock, stroking in time to the motion of Thor's hips. Spread across the bed like a coverlet, one man's head nestled between her thighs while the other feasted upon her breasts. Rosemary on her hands and knees, her mouth wrapped around one man's erection while the other drove his deep into her body. Caught between the two of them, both pounding themselves into her while she scratched and clawed at their flesh. While she came with an animal cry of completion.

Even just thinking upon the night left her body hungry for more.

Rosemary slid off of Thor, set her feet on the floor and crossed to where someone had left a stack of clothing. She was in the process of sliding into the gown when she heard the bed creak softly as someone climbed from it. "What madness is this?"

The voice was low and level, though there was a hint of something akin to fear in it. Rosemary turned to find that Stark's man stood beside the bed, staring around the room with a look she'd seen in his eyes more than once on other faces. Fear of the unknown, of witchcraft, lingered in the depths of his gaze as he shifted his attention from the bed, where Thor lounged negligently, the covers kicked off to expose his nakedness, to the spot where Rosemary stood. The urge to run grew stronger by the second.

"No madness resides here," Thor rumbled quietly, his attention squarely on the other man. "Naught resides here beyond the memory of a good night's tumble between the sheets. You enjoyed yourself greatly, my friend."

"I would never be so bold as to join a couple caught up in the midst of bed play." Though there was conviction in his words, she could see on his face that he was already replaying the memories they'd made. He would realize the truth any moment and then the accusations would begin in earnest.

"But you did, my friend. Last night's entertainment was a mix of sword fighting and love making. Never has my hall seen such an orgy as that which happened here mere hours ago." Thor didn't sound as if he was at all put out by the mass of twining bodies that had taken over his floor last night. She'd be willing to bet a bottle of rum that he'd like to see it happen again. "Trust me, Steven. You took great pleasure in our tryst with the wench."

"Lies." This time, there was nothing in his voice. He'd simply stated the word because his brain demanded it of him. She could tell that he knew the truth. "The night was filled with witchcraft. `Tis the only way I would have engaged in such debauched behavior."

That was what she'd been waiting to hear. Soon enough, he would turn his accusing gaze on her and claim that she was the witch, that this was her doing. He'd demand that she burn. And this wasn't her fault. She thought she knew who might be responsible, but she couldn't be sure. Everything had happened so fast. "There was no witchery involved in last eve's orgy, Rogers. I would know if someone used magic in my hall. I sensed nothing out of the ordinary."

There'd been something out of the ordinary about last night, but Rosemary still couldn't put her finger on it. She was relatively certain that it had had to do with the man she'd seen among the crowd. The one who'd looked like James, but not quite. She'd been able to almost smell a change on the air. He'd done something and it hadn't been magic. But she couldn't tell Stark's man that. Because he'd know that she was Witchbreed. And she'd seen what people who believed in the Christian God could do to the Witchbreed. She didn't want to go through that again.

"There had to be magic afoot," Rogers insisted. His gaze swung back to where Rosemary stood and she thought, for a moment, that he was going to accuse her. But he shook his head and crossed toward the pile of clothing. Apparently, he wanted to be garbed to finish this discussion. He dressed hurriedly before addressing them again. "What happened last night was a sin in the eyes of God. I would never have willingly involved myself in such a display. Some one or some thing had to have used magic to entice me to partake of such an illicit act."

"It is the same for the crew of The Valkyrie." Rosemary decided that perhaps it might be wise to let the man know that this wasn't common behavior for her or her friends. "An orgy isn't something we have ever been a part of before. And we certainly wouldn't have engaged in any sexual act before a crowd of strangers. The art of love making is best practiced behind closed doors."

"The wench is correct, Steven. Pleasure between a man and woman is for the privacy of the bed chamber," Thor agreed. "I have known Stark and his crew for some time and never would I have thought any of you capable of public fucking."

Rosemary blinked at the thunder god. Even though she'd spent several years aboard a pirating ship and the use of more colorful language was more than abundant, there was a still a part of her that remembered the things her step-mother had tried to teach her. And the thunder god's use of that same colorful language in such a blatant manner plucked at the chords of propriety that had been instilled in her. Proper young ladies and gentlemen do not use such language, Rosemary! The woman's voice echoed in her head even as the words danced on the tip of her tongue. As if the thunder god would listen to her.

"Mind your tongue, Thor. Such crude language should never be spoken in such tender company." Rogers sounded as if he would be willing to take any measure needed to ensure that the Norseman did exactly that.

"You did not perchance ever know Mrs. Anna Stewart of Liverpool, did you? Wife of John Stewart?" she asked Rogers. He offered her a boyish smile and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not," he replied.

"I believe she would have fallen in love with you."

"Perhaps until the events of last night. A gentleman doesn't participate in such things," Rogers shook his head again, this time in sorrow.

"I don't think many people would participate in such things unless they were helped or encouraged." Rosemary frowned. Far too much had happened last night for she and her friends to walk among the men in Thor's hall without embarrassment coloring their cheeks. And she'd been around enough men to know that they saw women who performed such acts little more than whores.

Rogers looked as if he was trying to puzzle that one out. "Encouraged? Who would encourage such debauchery? And how? What would they have to gain by creating such chaos?"

"Whoever is responsible for such chaos would gain a night of pleasure. We should honor the brilliance of his plan by once more engaging in the joys that come from the feel of skin gliding against skin. We should allow our hands to roam and our mouths to explore each other's naked flesh." Thor's gaze slid between the two of them, looking back and forth between Rosemary and Stark's man. "Join me in bed, Rogers, and let us show the wench what it means to be truly pleasured."

"Mayhap you should attempt to think with the head atop your shoulders just this once, Thor," Rogers replied evenly. Rosemary hid her smile by turning her attention to the ties at the waist of her gown.

"Mayhap you should loosen your hose and sew your wild oats," Thor shot back.

Rogers didn't answer. Instead, Rosemary felt his eyes shift so that they landed on her. She could sense the weight behind them. This prompted her to raise her head and stare at him. He was regarding her intently. "Mayhap we should stop and consider what such an action will do to the reputations of those involved."

"I'm a pirate. I already live with a terrible reputation," Rosemary told him. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug to emphasize her statement. Rogers gave her that innocent looking, boyish smile again.

"I have watched you and your friends this past sennight. Pirates you may be, but that's all. I see nothing to indicate that you are something more. I don't wish to be partner to anything that would sully your reputation."

"`Tis a sweet sentiment, to be sure. But the fact remains that I am a pirate. There's naught more that can sully my reputation," Rosemary told him.

"Being labeled a whore can do things that being a pirate cannot." The word dropped like lead into the room, echoed heavily off the walls as the three of them sat in silence. She saw ideas roll across his face in waves for several long moments. "Such actions would mar not only your reputation, but those of my Lord Stark and his crew." He paused a moment, a frown creeping across his face, before crossing the room until he stood near Rosemary. She watched as he picked clothing from the pile and tugged it on.

A faint aura of concern surrounded him, letting Rosemary know that he was just as worried about his reputation as her own. Why he should be worried about hers, she had no clue. But his concern about his own was baffling, as most men would be seen as some kind of sexual god after being involved in the orgy from the night before. She mentally shook her head. The man was the strangest one she'd ever met.

When he was fully attired, he flashed her a pained smile, turned and hurried through the door. Alone with the thunder god, she turned to stare at him. Thor sat with his back against the head board, hands tucked behind his head. His face was eaten up by smugness, his body posed perfectly to show off every single ripple of muscle, every plane, every line. Her gaze raked him slowly, appreciating the bounty laid out before her and taking extra time with the thick length of his cock as it stood proud and erect. The moment her eyes found his face, the smug look became something that was a mix between a smile and a leer.

"Come join me, wench. Allow me to show you the true power of Thor's hammer."

For a second, she gave it real consideration. She truly did. But the feel of her other self slinking beneath the surface reminded her that she'd been trying to escape not that long ago. Rosemary flashed him a smirk. "`Twill take more than power to impress me, thunder god, And you're not that impressive."

She turned her back on him and walked out of the room without another word.

~*~*~*~*~

Remy slid from the bed quietly, the thoughts in his head leaving him restless. He strode to the wall and stood in the thin beam of light leaking in through the high set window. His gaze slid back to the bed and the couple that rested there. The sight of them, along with the faint recollection of the night before, pulled his lips down into a slight frown. 

Dare lay on her side, turned toward him so that he could see the way sleep softened her face and made her appear so much younger than she was. Her hair was stark against the paleness of her skin, doing its best to keep her vulnerabilities hidden away from the world. Even across the distance, he could pick out each and every pucker of pink skin where she wore a scar as if it was a badge to be proud of. Just last night, his hands had mapped out each and every one of them until he'd known them as intimately as his own.

Her head was pillowed on the thick arm of Henry McCoy, crew member aboard Lord Anthony Stark's ship. The line of his body rose up above hers, starting at the slope of his shoulder and continuing on to the curve of his hip. The man's other arm had ended up thrown over her waist, her back pressed against his chest. Almost as if he'd claimed possession of her. That hadn't been the way things had progressed last night.

Dare had brought them both here with her after the show they'd put on for everyone else in the hall. Remy vaguely recalled sensing that something was off, but that had quickly faded as the cloud of lust and desire had ballooned until he'd been lost in the feel of it rubbing along his skin like fur or silk. He hadn't wanted to hold himself back from the sea of writhing bodies and the pleasure they would bring him. When Haley had collected him, he hadn't hesitated to follow after her. And he'd been pulled down into the middle of the fleshly excess by eager hands. The same eager hands that had brought him to his room last night. Hands that had guided every step of the threesome.

She'd thrown him for a loop. At least temporarily. The Dare he knew in the future had never been so aggressive with him as this past version liked to be. Even while her mouth had sought out his, her hands had been ghosting over both of the men with her. Adding to the intense excitement he felt. Things had exploded into a flurry of motion and sensation.

Dare had been all over them, using her mouth and hands in tandem to tease them to even higher levels of need. She used soft, gentle touches that belied the hardness of her chosen profession. Sharp teeth left marks against their skin after which her lips soothed the abused sections of flesh. She kissed and licked at every inch of them.

His mind sifted through all of the images. Dare on her knees, alternating the talents of her mouth between his cock and Henry's while her hands stroked and teased. Dare in his lap, bouncing up and down while she kept her lips locked around Henry's erection until the two of them somehow managed to climax at the same time. And then Dare repeating the same moves when they'd recovered, this time with her mouth on Remy's cock while she rode Henry's lap. One her hands and knees while Remy knelt and took her from behind. Dare spread across the bed on her stomach, Henry nearly laying on top of her while pounding into her.

Now Remy understood just why it was Henry was called Beast in the future.

Their future. His present. The confusing images of their sexual games faded away under the weight of his loneliness. Morgan's face swam across his vision, the way it had been the last time he'd seen her. Caught up in Fitzroy's arms, her eyes closed and her skin pale from using her powers to the point of exhaustion. Or from Fitzroy taking too much energy from her. His Morgan. She was... everything to him. And she was so far away from him.

Following after Morgan's face were the faces of her friends. Haley, Roxxy and Jehnna shocked and surprised. Dare looking so angry and lost. Logan caught between his friend and his lover. Piotr and Kurt. His friends.

It was getting harder every day to keep the memories of his future from mixing with the reality of his present. He'd spent so much time with the girls in this time that they were blurring with the girls in his time. One Jehnna was quiet and shy, so painfully reserved that he found it hard to believe she could ever be part of a full team. The other Jehnna was haughty, almost cold, and stiff. As if she had been treated poorly one too many times in her life that she had built a wall to keep people out. Both Jehnnas, though, did what they could to protect their hearts and their friends. They smiled the same, laughed the same.

He had less trouble with Rosemary and Roxxy. Both versions were aloof and cautious. Both were intelligent, capable. But there were subtle differences. Roxxy was more personable, more approachable, than Rosemary was. Perhaps because people were only slightly more tolerant of their kind in his present than they were in this past. Rosemary was quieter, less inclined to stay around people. Roxxy enjoyed spending time with her friends, enjoyed being a scientist and a woman. With Rosemary, he sensed apprehension, as if she was afraid of getting too close to anyone. In the time he'd known them, she hadn't attempted to strike up a true friendship with him.

His mind turned to Haley. The Haley who led the Purple Team was almost fearless, filled with a deeply rooted need to always prove herself. Not to her friends or her peers. To herself. She pushed herself harder, pushed her team harder than anyone else did. She was never satisfied with second best. And he could tell that there was some inner demon that drove her. Just as there was an inner demon that drove the pirate version of Haley. This Haley wasn't driven, though. This Haley was running. Something in her past left her feeling as if she didn't deserve any life other than that of an outcast. This Haley was hiding. From something or someone. From her own pain.

And speaking of pain. Dare was dealing with her own thick, cloying pain. Both versions were dealing with some past pain. Both of them felt betrayed. Both of them were hiding from some traumatic event in their pasts. For whatever reasons, they were hiding. Dare of the present was hiding behind the dark clothes and the dark hair, hiding behind the horrible and bitchy attitude. Dare of the past was hiding in her anger, hiding right out in the open on a pirate ship. Hiding from the demands of society. They were both hiding in plain sight.

That left the last member of the quintet. Morgan. Seeing the past version of Morgan made his heart ache for the future version. His present. His future. He was having a hard time remembering anything beyond the desire to return to his present. And her. That Morgan was open and loving despite her fears. She laughed and loved with abandon, flirted shamelessly and fought ferociously along side her friends so that she could prove her worth. This Morgan... He didn't understand her. She was haughty, almost cold. She refused to speak to him, refused to be in the same room with him. Refused to look at him. Every time he saw her with the past version of Bobby Drake, something inside of him twisted up until he ached so badly that the only thing he could do to numb the pain was drink. Fight.

Try to lose himself in a woman he didn't really love.

A soft sigh pulled him from his thoughts, drew his attention toward the bed. Through the long, silky strands of ebony, he could see a grey eye peering at him blearily. A soft, well satisfied smile curled her lips up. "Guid mornin', Remy."

"Mornin', Dare," he replied, voice a low rumble in the silence of the room. He knew how sensitive Henry's ears were and wanted to ensure he didn't wake the other man up by speaking too loudly. Dare shifted on the bed, stretching the kinks from her arms and legs. The thick arm tossed around her belly tightened briefly, then relaxed. A soft grunt let him know that Henry was waking. A moment later, the man was sitting with his back to them, head resting in his hands as he muttered softly to himself.

Dare climbed from the bed, groaning when she was finally upright. One hand lifted to press against her forehead. "Och. Tae much mead."

"You do seem overly fond of the drink, lass," Henry's voice rumbled out of his chest with the same warmth that Remy remembered from the future.

"I don' t'ink it all to do wit' de mead," Remy replied. His words brought both sets of gazes his way. Dare looked confused. Henry looked as if he might understand what it was Remy was talking about.

"I sensed something most strange last night. Something on the air. It seemed to have sprung to life just before the festivities started. I can't be sure just what it was, but I feel it may have played into what happened." Henry told them, a certain amount of certainty in his voice that seemed to be part and parcel to both versions of the man. He also had the same gentle manner that belied his size, as did the obvious intelligence that no one expected from such a big guy. Other than the lack of blue fur, there was little difference between the two versions of the man.

"I didnae sense anathing," Dare told them, turning to face Henry. There was an unasked question laced into her words and they both knew what it was. Remy saw that the other man had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, as if he didn't really want to tell her what it was she wanted to know. The room was silent for the space of a few heartbeats, then he sensed the change that came over her as she figured it out. "I see. Yer Witchbreed."

For just a second, barely the blink of an eye, Remy saw the unease slip through Henry's eyes. Apparently, Dare saw it, too. She heaved a sigh and sauntered closer to him. "Dinnae fash yerself. Yer secret is safe with me."

"And how am I to know this for a truth?" Henry asked. Remy almost smiled at that. Chances were good that he knew exactly why he could trust her statement. But it was a way in which she could give him the answers to his own unasked question. Dare turned to shoot Remy a questioning look over her shoulder. He nodded, letting her know that it was okay. She gave her attention back to Henry completely. A heartbeat later, her hair was floating lazily around her head while strands of flame wrapped themselves around her body to form what looked like rudimentary clothing. After allowing the flames to crackle and flicker for a minute or more, they simply slid away and her hair settled against her shoulders as if it had been blowing in an ocean wind.

"Curious," Henry commented. It was plain to see he was in full scientist mode. Nudity forgotten, he strode closer to Dare and inhaled deeply. His eyes raked over her frame in an entirely professional manner, obviously looking for signs of burns. One hand lifted to sift through her hair and rub the beds between his finger tips. "You smell of ash, though only faintly. There are no burns to your skin and hair. It appears as if the flames were merely an illusion. I have never met someone capable of such talents."

"I can make things float," Dare told him. A candlestick lifted off a small table beside the bed, hovering in the air for about thirty seconds, then it settled back down with a soft thud.

"Is it because of these talents that you took to the sea?" Henry asked. Remy recognized the tone of his voice. If he was given time, he would have Dare tell him her entire life's story and commit it to memory before noon.

"Nay. `Tis because my Da wanted me tae marry." Her candor must have amused him because a low, almost growling chuckle rolled up his throat. "Sae ye sensed something yestereve?" She waited for Henry to nod in agreement, then turned to look at Remy. "Did ye sense anathing?"

"Non."

Henry blinked his eyes at them. "You've Witchbreed powers, too?"

"Oui." Remy knew what was coming next and shook his head. "You don' get a demonstration. It too dangerous."

"Very well. I shall take your word for it, man." Henry told him. A few seconds later, he frowned. "Whatever happened to us last night, it has clouded my memories of the evening. I can recall the events in bits and pieces, as if I were reading pages of a journal that had been torn from the book and scattered across the floor with nary a care for order."

"It de same for me," Remy admitted. Henry's blue eyes turned to where Dare stood.

"And what do you recall, lass?"

She stared at him a for a few moments, then turned and stared at Remy. He could see her searching through her memories. Confusion swirled around her as she did so until she finally found what it was she was looking for. A hint of desire ran through her as she sifted through their actions of the previous night. "`Tis all distant and foggy, as if I'm seeing things that happened long ago."

"Whatever was done to us last night, it has obviously affected our ability to recall just what happened." Henry sounded very matter of fact when he said it. "Is it possible there is a person with the ability to influence men's actions and their minds?"

"It more den possible. Dere all kind of abilities," Remy informed him. He shrugged a shoulder casually. Even in his time, there were so many different mutant abilities that there was no way to keep track of them all. It didn't matter that the government was trying its best to do just that. Many mutants kept their powers hidden away.

His words saw Henry thinking hard once more. After several moments of silence, he frowned and headed toward a stack of clothing that had been left by the door. With quick, precise motions, Henry pulled the provided garments on. When he was fully attired, he looked up at them and smiled. "I apologize for my sudden departure. I must ensure that the rest of my crew was not effected poorly in any manner by whatever it was that was used on us last night. For what its worth, lass, I greatly enjoyed your company yestereve."

"I believe I can say the same," Dare told him, a smile on her face. Henry took her hand in his and bowed over it, stealing the opportunity to press a kiss to the back of it. He straightened, shared a look with Remy, then hurried from the room. It was a safe bet that his memories of their threesome the night before was already gone, his mind focused entirely on his friends. The door closed and left Remy and Dare wrapped in silence.

As soon as he left, Dare staggered back to the bed and flopped down on her back. She lifted one arm up to cover her face. "Och. How much mead did I drink?"

"Enough." Remy chuckled softly. "You head hurt?"

"Aye," she groaned, one hand blindly reaching for a pillow. She dragged it toward her and pulled it across her face, leaving her face hidden. It also left her body exposed. Mixed with the many scars in pink and white were fresh bruises in shades of purple and blue. No doubt she'd earned them through the hectic and frenzied sex acts they'd performed last night.

Remy crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge between Dare and the headboard. She rolled toward him slightly. The pillow lifted off her face far enough to allow her to look at him with one eye. He offered her a smile and took the pillow from her. "Sit up."

"Why?" There was distrust in her voice.

"I can made you head feel better. Jus' sit up." He watched as she did, pulling herself into a sitting position in the center of the mattress. He moved in behind her, making sure that he positioned his legs around hers. Reaching up, he put his fingers against her temples and began slow, circular rubbing motions. She moaned softly and leaned back into him.

"Ye've got magic in yer fingers," she whispered, her body relaxing inch by inch with each touch.

"Dere magic in more den my fingers," he replied. She chuckled.

"I'm sure yer right. But I dinnae really remember what happened last night," she sighed. "There are flashes of it in my memories. But `tis as if it happened tae someone else."

"It de same for me," he whispered. His hands drifted away from her temples, his fingers trailing along her cheeks and throat until they could slid down to her breasts. Her breath hitched in her throat, but she said nothing. While it may have only been a few weeks since he'd arrived here, it was obvious to him that he was supposed to start living for the here and now. Put the future behind him. What better way to start anew than to forge a relationship with someone who wanted him?

"I'm sorra." The words were barely audible. Her back was pressed up against his chest, her head tipped forward so that the back of her neck was exposed. He dropped a kiss there, felt the shiver that rolled up her spine. His hands cupped her breasts while his fingers manipulated her nipples. "I wish I could remember..."

He kissed a path up to her ear, licked at the outer edge before speaking once more. "Let me show you," he whispered. It was a simple thing to turn her onto her back and settle on top of her. Her lids were half closed, heavy with the need that filled her. His hips caught between her thighs, he lowered his head until he could capture one of her erect nipples between his lips. The moan that rolled up out of her throat was the first of many he drew from her during their tryst.