Invisible Woman, by Stormfreak

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. I have made no money over this story. This is the first half of the first installment of the "Love and War" trilogy, which was formerly titled "Liberation of a Goddess."

Crazy. The whole thing is insane, really. Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much, deep down. When I'm with him, I get the chance to let go, to express myself freely because no one else is watching. I can shake myself of the "goddess" image that has hung over my head for too many years. When I'm with him, I cherish the power I have as a woman to satisfy a man's needs. With him, I am beautiful, sensual, and downright wanton. On my knees, kneeling between his thighs, with my hair hanging over one shoulder, I do everything that good girls aren't supposed to do, but magazines and manuals tell us to do.

And I enjoy every minute of it.

Running my tongue all over his chest, planting small kisses in his most intimate places, sitting in his lap and wrapping my naked legs around his waist, dancing for him while peeling off layers of clothing, feeling his wild but soft hair on my thighs when his head is between them - it's all so liberating. Nothing like being in that godforsaken mansion.

The mansion... the school... just thinking about it brings a small pain to my head.

Please understand that I love to teach. Nothing brings me more joy than educating young minds. And yet... there was always a part of me that remained hollow, a vast that even teaching could not bring me. It was love - or rather, it was attraction. In short, I attracted no one.

My fellow X-Men and my students don't understand that I have needs, the same as any other woman. In truth, they don't see me as a woman. They see me as a teacher, a nurturer, a friend, a sister, a daughter...never a potential girlfriend or wife, or even a lover. They've mistaken me for some asexual being.

Part of that is my fault, I think. I lack the social graces that come so naturally to women like my dearest friend, Jean. When millions of people that you've never even met fall to your feet in worship, you do not exactly need to learn the art of conversation. As for men on the street - forget it. Most of them want nothing to do with a mutant woman. The others only have one thing on their minds, and I saw through them quite easily.

For goddess' sakes, I'm only twenty-four, too young to be seen as some loving spinster and everyone's best friend. Jean is older than me by three years, yet she's the sexy one. And even though she's clearly a woman in a committed relationship, she is the one to lust after. No one looks at me in that same way. No one sees me. I want to be wanted. Can't they see that? I want to be noticed, to be seen. I helped rescue the mysterious man named Wolverine in a snowstorm with fire all around us, but I never even got a "thank you." I got a look. A quizzical look, a finger point, and a click of his oh-so-kissable mouth. My name on Logan's lips, a sarcastic spit. Then the dismissal, long before Jean walked into the room, stole his affections, and rendered me invisible. And yes, it hurt so much to fall so hard for the mystery man, only to have him reject me so quickly.

But that doesn't matter anymore. Someone else has noticed me, has pursued me, has made love to me. The key to his apartment has hung around my neck for the past six months. When I grow upset, or when I feel lonely or invisible - as I often do - I feel the cool metal between my breasts, and I smile at my secret. At our secret.

I confess - the roots of our relationship are a little... unorthodox. Our first meeting was in Canada, during a fierce winter blizzard to rescue not only Wolverine, but a young mutant named Rogue. I barely got a glimpse of the man who would become my lover, but just that brief look sent shivers down my spine.

Much later, Rogue got the notion to run away - the poor, frightened child. Professor Xavier used Cerebro to locate her at a train station. I was asking a man had he seen her when I felt this... presence. I turned around and there he was - jet-black eyes with no pupils, long, honey-colored hair and sharp teeth. Before I even had the chance to react, he picked me up by my neck and brought me close. And as crazy as it sounds, I could feel the attraction - that, and a gigantic erection pressed against my thigh.

"Scream for me... "

I wanted too - really, I did. I was so frightened, and yet... I was turned on. His control over me was both terrifying and arousing at the same time. And deep down, in a place where I never let anyone visit, I loved it. Someone else in control, for a change - how exciting! Fantasies of him raced in my mind every night - dreams about the way he could flip my emotions from tranquility to fear to raging lust. This thought in my head was like a small boy with a secret pet in his pocket - it was something that could constantly entertain me, but only when I was alone.

I still remember the way he stroked my cheek at the Statue of Liberty, as gently as if I was a newborn child. "You owe me a scream," he whispered to me.

And a couple of months later, after he tracked me down and pursued me so brazenly, he got it.

It has been half a year since our first night together in the Hilton, under aliases and over champagne, away from prying eyes and sensitive ears. And may the goddess help me, but in that time, I have fallen deeply in love with a man from the other side. What would my students say? My teammates? How could I ever look my mentor in the eye again, if he knew? And do I even care? Would I give up the man I love for my family? And does he even feel the same way for me?

I haven't spoken him in over a month. We got into some silly quarrel, and I went with my teammates to Malaysia before we could make peace. It was the worst time of my time, away from him. I even indulged in a one-night stand - tried to sex the pain away - and it was a tryst so disappointing and fast that I curse myself about it to this day.

He's asked me to meet him here, at the most expensive Italian restaurant in town. He said he had something important to tell me and that it couldn't wait. I have news for him as well, but I'm sure his hyper sense of smell will pick up the scent of my newly-changing body. The Hilton, where we first made love, is about three blocks away. No question what we will be doing tonight.

I am certainly dressed for the occasion - tight black top with no bra underneath. Short flare skirt with a black lace thong underneath. Bright Lady help me if I drop something and have to pick it up. My hair is loose, hanging past my shoulders and halfway to my waist. I thought about cutting it while in Malaysia, but no. He loves my hair. He likes to bury his face in my hair while he sleeps. It makes him purr.

My goddess. I have a man who purrs for me.

I'm riding Scott's bike to the restaurant. Scott shouldn't mind - we're the dearest of friends. Besides, between Logan, me, and the new kid they call Gambit, Scott should be accustomed to his bike being missing. I arrive at Marietta's and jump off the bike. I feel the wind gliding across my bare buttocks as I walk up the steps in my stiletto heels. He is already standing at the door, staring out the glass like a small child awaiting his mother. When he sees me, he pulls the door open, and for a moment, we stand face-to-face - our first encounter since our fight.

His black eyes travel up and down my body, and he licks his lips and smiles in approval. Goddess, how I have longed for someone to look at me like this! I have dreamt and cried and prayed to be desired this way! He pulls me close, running his hands through my wind-blown hair. I inhale the clean scent of his body, feel the softness of his hair, taste his lips... so soft to be such a rough man. "I missed you, Ororo," he murmurs in my ear, the blonde hairs on his neatly-shaven goatee tickling my face.

"And I, you, Victor," I respond softly, and I mean it. "Four weeks is far too long to be without you."

I feel every eye in the room staring at me as he escorts me to our table. But I know these looks - just lust, and nothing more. Like they'd pay me to dance on the table. But my lover looks at me differently. Lust, sure - but with a faint softness in his eyes. His arm is wrapped possessively around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he stares down virtually every man in the room. I hear the low growling in his throat as he leers at the jealous patrons, clearly letting them know that I am taken, that I am his woman. Of course, it flatters me to no end.

He wants me to leave the X-Men. I want him to lead a straight life. Obviously, we're at a stalemate.

What an odd situation we have put ourselves in: enemies by day, lovers by night.

END

The original can be found at http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=972597.