(no subject)

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

In the professor's lounge, late evening, unexpected results.



It was too late for anyone to be wandering the halls and Artie was in the student lounge. She could relax in peace.

"Hmmm," she moaned. It was always the same every time Betsy drank. She would find the bottle in her cupboard, run a finger around the rim of the glass, and pour the gin slowly over two ice cubes. Taking a her first sip was like coming home and well, by the fourth drink, it was like being with an old friend. "So good."

Essex smiled thinly, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. Betsy's guarded demeanor was a vast part of her personality, and her powers gave her the indicator of when she needed that guard. With him, she had no chance for it, and he enjoyed watching her unarmored and open.

She took another large swallow and fought her urge to grimace. "Well, Betsy, you may will never see again, but your heightened sense of taste will make you inevitably gag with every swig of whatever god awful concoction you drink." She scoffed as she finished the glass, slamming it onto the counter. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't dream without being caught up in his thoughts. Nothing was hers anymore; there was no privacy, no silence. Betsy grabbed for the bottle again.

"Miss Braddock. I see you're having a late night." Essex said, right in her ear, appearing wraith-like behind her. Several drinks into her evening, he could smell the gin on her breath.

The glass that hung loosely in her grip, slipped from her fingers at Essex's interruption. "Damn," Betsy swore.

Her reactions time obviously dulled, Betsy pulled away slowly from him and turned around, "thank you for that, now I need to find another glass," her speech slurred was definitely affected by her 'late night.'

Essex handed one to her with a flourish. "I am here to serve, you know?"

She tilted her head at his hand on hers. For a few moments, Betsy kept her hand connected with Essex's before she realized it. "Serve me? Like that is even a possibility, if you haven't noticed Nathan Essex listens to nothing and serves no one." Betsy pulled the glass from his grasp and turned her back to him, turning to the bottle on the counter.

"You might be amazed." Essex took the bottle from her hand and filled her glass. He took one for himself and filled it. "I listen to quite a lot of people. Might I remind you that I am a doctor. Mine is a life of service to my fellow man." He took a long swallow.

"I didn't ask you to join me," Betsy said rather stiffly. She didn't care for being relieved of her crutch, but was grateful he hadn't chosen to refuse her of her escape. "And I don't want your service," she took a swallow from her glass. "At least not tonight."

"I didn't ask your permission, Ms Braddock." Essex said, with a cruel smile. "As for my service, that hasn't been offered either." Essex sat down on the counter stool.

"Perhaps, you seem to just invite yourself into unwanted situations." Betsy took a last swig and snorted into her glass. A silly grin hidden behind the glass, "he giveth," Betsy spoke into the glass, and then turning it upside down, "...and he taketh away." With Essex refusing to leave, she took a seat next to him. "Am I amusing you?"

"Always." Essex said. "Ms Braddock, tell me something. What frightens you so much about me?" Essex leaned in, very close.

Something in her told her to keep quiet, but Betsy couldn't help but shudder. "Empty." She said, "you're a shadow, my good doctor and I don't like shadows.

"Doubt you knew that I was scared of the dark, as a little girl? She paused, "Imagine that?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you still are, Ms Braddock." Essex sipped. "Is it because you can't predict me like everyone else?"

Betsy visibly scowled at his comment, "Don't you think it's hard for someone who relies on their psionic abilities to maneuver and then encounters a null, an anomaly. You don't scare me, you just don't exist. Not in the way that matters, not in a way I can protect myself against."

"Not to break the martyrdom, but that is how every blind person has to deal with the world." Essex said. "Perhaps not everything needs to be protected against."

"Perhaps," she spat out. "But, I'm not going to justify my life to you, circumstances have made me who I am and I will not apologize for it. But there is another reason you bother me, Essex."

"Really?" Essex smiled, openly amused at her defensive anger. "Tell me then, Ms Braddock. Dazzle me with your insight."

"You seem to lack moral boundaries. Your policy reflects the motto-- if the ends justify the means. You don't come off as reckless but you are," she leaned into him, as she continued, "and you don't seemed to be bothered by the consequences."

"Reck-less," she emphasized as she poked his shoulder.

"Indeed. I was thinking of following the more moral route of leading children in paramilitary operations, but not all of us have that moral fiber." Essex smiled. "But you would be amazed about the freedom of ends, Ms. Braddock. And the things you can justify with them." Essex was very close, a queer vibe she hadn't felt before from him.

Betsy smiled nervously, "I...freedom, yes." She shook her head, trying to clear the effects of half a bottle of gin. The side of his body was still against hers and she felt its' affect. "I'm sorry, I'm feeling...."Her hands on the counter, bracing herself, Betsy tried to get up.

Essex took her arm and helped her up. She stumbled, and the two found themselves up against each other. Essex still held her arm, and her cheek fetched up against his chest. He reached out to steady her, holding her other arm which left her completely against his full length.

She froze, feeling his touch and a soft murmur in her ear. "Freedom, Ms Braddock?"

His hands were fire and marked her skin, as they held her to him. Clenching her hands on his jacket, she nodded into his chest. "Yes," she whispered. "Freedom."

Essex' scars brushed roughly over her skin. Her head tilted slowly up towards him, hair falling away from her face in waves. His fingers tightened on her elbows, and his thin smile curved viciously. "Whispering to a shadow isn't real, is it?"

Betsy knew if Essex let her go, she'd fall. But the sneer she felt on his face made her want to pull back though she didn't. "No, but it feels real."

"And is this what you want to feel?" His voice was soft, shockingly gentle against his early viciousness. His head tilted towards hers, very close, very intimate.

Her eyes closed, Betsy faced down and turn her face away from him. "I don't want to feel, I don't need to feel." She tried to push back from him, but his grip didn't relax. "I'm not going to talk this madness with you."

"Yes. How unfortunate that you can't lie to me like to everyone else. And to yourself." Betsy's head came back up, an angry retort coming to her lips. That was when Essex kissed her, hard. She struggled, and his fingers tightened, that immense strength she had felt before locking like iron.

Of the mass amount of thoughts running through her head, Betsy tried to fight her need to have him touch her, her want for contact. But after a moment of what struggle was left in her, she fell into the kiss and moaned into his lips.

As she sagged against him, Essex' hands left her arms, sliding down the length of her. It was as if he was deliberately letting her feel his scars, his ugliness. Only the barest hint of his pain flickered through in that one fraction of an unguarded moment. His fingers traced fire along the delineation of her spine and down the long muscles of her sides.

"God," she whispered. She pulled from the kiss only to fall into another one as his hands traversed her body. A part of her thrilled at his touch, it was a unique experience to have someone touch you without knowing their next move. It enticed her more and made her hands lavish his body.

She broke from the intensity of the kiss and let her head fall into his shoulder. She didn't notice the scars, or didn't care, she couldn't think as clearly as she would've liked, but there was no need to focus on that.
There was a definite need to focus on what his hands were doing to her back.

The pads of his thumbs slid along her ribs as his splayed fingers traveled along the small of her back. He could almost encompass her narrow waist with his long surgeons fingers. His hands caressed to her hips, as his mouth stroked the long pillar of his neck, biting hard on the tender skin.

She seethed as he placated each bite with a soft suckling. It was an overload of sensations and Betsy cried out. Her hands entrenched into his hair, and her body arching into him, left little to no space between them. And Betsy shivered with an animalistic excitement, "yes," she moaned.

His mouth dipped to her collarbone, nipping lightly. Her hips pressed against his, both of them locked tightly together. His right hand splayed across her back, supporting her as his left hand cupped the curve of her buttock, holding her to him.

Her breathing ragged, she couldn't handle his meticulous detail to her. She pulled her shoulder back to let his instrument free, and taking the opportunity to give him a kiss with soft wanting. All the while, her hands
ran a trail from his chest to stomach, admiring the feel of him.

He worried his way down the hollow of her throat. His mouth came up along the line of her throat, along the underside of her jaw and to her mouth again. He tugged out the back of her shirt, and dipped his hand underneath, his fingers touching her bare skin.

The shock of his hands touching her sent a sobering affect into her system. "I shouldn't be doing this....but God," Betsy painfully pushed back from Essex's grasp, "I can't do this."

"That freedom hasn't really sunk in, has it?" Essex said dryly. Her hands were braced on his chest, and they were still very close. The energy was disturbing and powerful, electric in the air. His hands were still on her arms, fingers tense.

Betsy bowed her head to try and clear her mind, convincing herself that this was just some odd, twisted attraction shaped by alcohol and fear. Nothing more. She tried to ignore the ache her body felt at being denied and she pulled a purple lock from her face. It was then the image of Scott came to mind and as intoxicated as she was, she still thought of him, and the guilt racked her. Betsy pulled back from Essex again, this time slowly. "No, it hasn't."

"Indeed." Essex allowed his hands to fall from her arms. He took a deliberate step back, picking up his drink from the table. "After all, control is such an important trait, don't you know."

She felt bereft and alone as he moved from her to his drink. Betsy crossed her arms and hugged herself for warmth. "Control is all some of us have before making a mistake we might regret."

"Yes, it is far safer not to do anything at all. Protects you from the pain. Still," Essex sounded casual, conversational. "Makes things difficult, doesn't it? Hard to connect with Mister Summers. Hard to keep me as such an easy villain."

Betsy's head snapped up sharply from her internal study, "This has nothing to do with Scott. Absolutely nothing. And, I didn’t think this through, I'm sorry if I led you on. It wasn't my intention to be an inconvenience or a prude." She turned her head from him, her dark locks draping her face in shame.

"No, Ms Braddock, you have done everything in your power not to lead me on. In fact, I dare say that the attraction was all in the gin." Essex said. "Perhaps you may wish to get some sleep. You have had quite a bit to drink, and you wouldn't want to do something you might regret."

"Please, I don't want you to be upset."

"Upset? Ms Braddock, you should know that I never get upset." Essex tilted his drink. "In fact, I'm almost famous for it. Ask anyone."

"Fine," she said grimly. "Then yes, I'd rather get some rest, as I'm feeling out of sorts. Maybe, we can continue our conversations sans the gin and possibly in a public domain." She said the last comment with the corners of her lips, slightly turned up.

"Indeed. After all, were we alone, who knows what could happen?" Essex' voice turned very flat and cold. "And how ill-able you would be to stop it."

"Alright, that's fair. But that's the problem, this," she motioned in the air between them, "should not have happened in the first place. So there should be no difficulty in remedying that. Good night, Doctor."

"Ms Braddock." Essex nodded. "Be careful with the stairs. It's dark out there." He added as she left, with a chilling calm.



Disclaimer: I am not responsible for the actions of my character.