sundown | mutant au

Cable's heart feels like it could flutter out of his chest when she answers his question without using words. He feels it both in her touch and by the energy she emits when she thinks about it.

He's never felt this way about anyone before. Even after fucking them. Even after he knew they'd fallen pregnant and had his children. She's the first one to reach into him like this.

"I know."

He murmurs, guiding her face closer for a deep kiss. All the loneliness and uncertainty he's felt leaves him, feeling her lips fills him with warmth. He can't get enough of her.

This isn't her first kiss, but her experience remains slant. She lets him guide her as he did weeks ago, her tongue sliding under his. Pleasure coils through her veins -- she's not sure if it's only her own, or if it's his as well.

She whimpers against his mouth, her fingers kneading at his shoulders. A noise borne of pleasure tonight instead of the sickness that she's been enduring.

Strangely, she feels shy about the condition she's found herself in -- that he put her in. But she craves to know his thoughts on the matter. Craves his approval in a primal way.

Drawn back a fraction, one of her hands slips between them to her stomach. "It's still very small ... A blip, almost. I got to see the sonogram, if you'd like me to show you."

Edited 2025-08-02 19:59 (UTC)

The kiss both sates a hunger he's had for weeks and somehow makes it worse. He doesn't want to be apart from her, he wants to draw her and their baby in and absorb them forever.

He pulls back slowly from the kiss, drawing himself up onto the bed to half-curl around her. They are not beds made for adult men, which is immediately apparent to him. Makes him realise how small she really is.

Following that thought, he places his hand over hers on her stomach. It looks right to him. His skin prickles pleasantly, he wonders if the baby feels him. If it can feel him. It's very small.

"Yeah." A single word, heavy with sincere happiness. His smile is lopsided and almost boyish, this is all a novelty to him.

"I wanted to make sure you were well. Both of you."

She looks pale and a little meek to him. She's tired-- but why wouldn't she be?

He curls up around her. She is pale, thinner than he'd remember. Bones jutting where they hadn't. She reaches under his hand to draw her nightshirt up, freeing the small swell for him to feel. His one hand stretches over her abdomen.

Afterward, her mind opens to him; it feels like taking a lid off of a jar, letting him slip in, rather than the crawling through he had first done or the natural skimming he does without thinking. Goosebumps spill over her skin. The memory of the ultrasound is an easy one to recall, always sitting at the forefront of her mind since. Cherished.

There are other memories likely to tip through for him -- the constant illness, the exhaustion, and more warmly, the awareness of their creation growing inside.

"I can feel it," she says, a shade of awe in her voice. "It's strong. So strong. More like you than me."

It feels instinctive the way he gathers her toward him. He presses his forehead against her temple, just appreciating the proximity to her. Part of him feels irritated by the fact that she's lost weight. He questions whether she's really in good hands. Whether anyone could really take care of her as well as he could.

The thoughts fade briefly as he shares the memory with her. He's never experienced anything like the way he feels-- real and visceral. He feels her excitement and her joy-- but he feels his own too. He can feel what he sees in her memories under his hand as well. His eyes feel wet but he doesn't realise he's crying.

"She's so small." He remarks, which feels like a terribly stupid thing to say. He realises, gradually, that he's not just feeling Francesca's powers. It's something else. It makes his hairs stand on end, like a calling. But he's not sure what he's being told.

His brow furrows.

"She's ours." He can feel Francesca just as much as himself. But he can feel she's powerful, that she's draining her mother already.

"She needs me." He murmurs, pressing his head firmer against Francesca's temple. His arms wind around her.

"You need me."

She is -- draining her. Only at this point does she not feel so terribly exhausted, more alert. Probably it's because she's excited to see him, to relate everything that he's not been able to be part of.

Probably. The power radiating off of him isn't the scary thing it was several weeks ago. It feels like a blanket here. Like by having him here means everything will be okay. Eventually.

A fantasy -- but one she lets herself linger in.

She does need him. It feels terribly apparent with his arms around her. Stabilizing her. Maybe it's the hormones.

His eyes are wet and now hers are as well. Her head turns, into his, their breath mingling as she stares up, both questioning and marveling.

"She?"

He feels the shift in her, so different from when they first met. He knew he scared her without having to sense it, he's supposed to be scary.

But he doesn't need to be now, and it's nice for once to be of use in a way that feels.. well. Nice. It's nice to feel wanted. To make someone special feel safe.

Especially someone carrying his child. If he'd known sharing the joy with his breeding partner could feel this good, maybe he wouldn't have been so complacent. He pushes that aside, his focus is on Francesca. Now that he's settling from the elation of meeting their baby, he's reminded of how much he enjoyed making it.

"Yeah." He murmurs. Playful, brushing his lips against her cheek.

"We've got a girl." We. Both of them. He wants to be there, he wants to hold her when she gets here.

But for now, Francesca's skin is soft and his hand can't help snaking up her top and squeezing her breast. His weight keeps her pinned under him, making it easier to steal another kiss.

"I can't think about anything but your pussy lately." His voice is lower now, breathing it against her ear.

"I dream about you every night."

Edited 2025-08-05 02:20 (UTC)

She feels the shift in mood before he makes his move, pinning her body beneath his. Her breast is tender, more than she realizes, but she lets his passion roll over her to nullify some of the pressure.

A heavy breath, a quiver through her body, from her shoulders to her toes. She bites her lip. Heat unspools in her stomach, settling deep.

She doesn't know how to do any of this dirty speak, but her legs part, an invitation for him to slot himself between them.

"How?"

Her legs parting says more than dirty talk ever could. He's experienced it before-- enthusiastic consent-- lust. It's different from her, so important to him that she wants it. That she enjoys it.

"How?" He repeats the question, quizzical. He supposes she might be asking for a scenario, which he's happy to provide.

"I like to picture you, thinking of me-- thinking about getting fucked by me." He takes the invitation to slot between her legs. God, he's wanted to be where he is now for so long. He's already hard when he presses against her.

"Think about you getting wet-- thinking about me while you play with yourself." He murmurs it in her ear. His hips start to rock back and forth against her, almost subconsciously. The mattress squeaks every time he does. As if sensing his worry, someone stops snoring and he immediately claps a hand over Francesca's mouth. He freezes with his weight on her, erection pressed against her cunt.

He's already hard. Her body comes to life, her pussy contracting with a sudden ache. She's been having pains around her womb for weeks -- now she just wants him to fill her up.

His murmurings aren't fantasy. They're real. She's brought herself to orgasm, quickly, recalling the hour they had together.

Somebody stirs.

She whimpers loudly, stifled by his palm. There's only a few layers between his pulsing cock and her hot opening. She can feel her heartbeat in her cunt. She desperately wants him inside her. Wants him to fuck her the way he had making this baby.

Of her body's own volition, unable to help herself, she grinds her clit against his bulge.

The heat of her cunt rubbing up and down his cock feels so good, he could come from that alone. But what he really misses is being inside her, as close as two people can be.

And the mattress makes that hard, shuddering and squeaking even with long, ranguid rolls of his hips.

His hands shift to gather her up, setting her gently on the floor next to her bed. He positions her on her knees, already dragging the bottoms of her pajamas down.

Desperate as he is for her, his arms hook around her legs and hips. He drags her up toward him, burying his stubbled face into her soft thighs and eating her ravenously from behind. His arms squeeze around her lower half, hips undulating against the cold ground.

Edited 2025-08-06 09:03 (UTC)

He maneuvers them onto the floor. She's too pliant and out of her mind with lust to care -- and starting not to care that there are so many people near that could overhear them when he gets his mouth on her.

Her cheek rests on the mattress, a fist wrapped around a foot of the dorm-issued bed. His mouth is warm and her cunt is sticky and hot.

If she can hear him licking and sucking at her wet cunt, then surely somebody else can. She bites her lip, but it's not enough to stifle the little cries budding and building at the back of her throat, her knees trembling under them as she starts to peak already.

Somehow he knows when she's close. Maybe her tells aren't subtle, maybe it's because he studies her diligently. The way he drags his tongue in and around her cunt is equal parts for her pleasure and his taste. He has no qualms about where he has his face buried, he could get caught here and feel no shame.

But he hears her voice building and he doesn't want it to end yet. Not for both of them. He snakes his hand up her body and cups his warm palm over her mouth. He hushes her, but it's with no real seriousness since doing so makes him exhale against her wet skin.

He drags his tongue slowly up a fold, voice trembling when he murmurs to her.

"I love you."

Softly, like he could cry saying it. But he still sounds lustful, desperate.

"It's-- we need to be quiet-- but I love you. I want you to know it."

He breathes out against her, aware that this is an incredibly filthy way to confess. But it's also all he knows. So it was never going to be over a candle lit dinner.

He just buries his face deeper, fucking her with his tongue.

I love you, the words are a tremor against her heat. Snaking up her spine, ratcheting in her rib cage. Inside her head they echo.

She doesn't understand, but she does. Something else was sewn the day he poured himself into her.

A new fear whirls inside her--not the cold fear when she met him, afraid of what he was--but still a fear of what he can do. How easily he can break her, in new ways.

Nobody has told her they loved her. Not for years. Nobody has loved her since. Water spills down her cheeks, her fingers pulling at the sheets, cresting over his tongue.

She cries through the length of her climax, shivering and breathing hard against his hand. It's not enough, she wants his cock now. "Please--"

Cable has, at times, witnessed a woman crying. He's never been able to offer them comfort. When he feels tears pooling against his fingers, he wants to comfort her. Badly.

He pulls his mouth back, pulling her so her back is flush with his chest. He winds his arm tightly around her middle and buries his face against her neck. He feels fear, he wants to soothe it. He also wants her to feel free to use her voice.

With focus, he creates a space of silence around them. It should stop the stirring of the other bodies in the room.

When her climax is over, he guides her back to her knees. He pushes his pants down his hips and pulls her back by the thighs. There's no warning. One second she's empty and the next she's stretching around his cock.

"Do you want to be my girl?"

She didn't return the declaration-- he doesn't expect it. He doesn't need it. For the first time, it's something he can give unconditionally.

But he does ache for her to want him too.

She makes a noise, one similar to the first breaching. But this time, she knows better, knows to wait it out. Wade past the original discomfort of being stretched open.

She can feel the hum of silence around them, plucking at the edges of her conscious. Tentatively, she feels her way at it, focusing on that as a distraction from the initial pain when he begins to roll his hips -- until she feels the itch to do the same, her body slicking for a better ease.

For a long while, there's no answer, save their shallow breathing and the noise of their bodies meeting. It's not very fair of him to ask her this when he's inside her, when her body and heart are in desperate agreement.

She yelps pleasure at a particular rut, her head bowing, and nods erratically. "But we can't -- it's not allowed --"

"We can." He says it like he knows. He doesn't. But he's optimistic. They both feel how powerful their girl is. If all of their children are like her, surely it serves to let them make more.

"We're a good match-- We'll make more mutants. Powerful ones."

He's breathless, even though his cock moves in long, slow rolls of his hips. Dragging against her, teasing the head against her hole and pressing back in until he's as deep as he can go.

"Maybe if I keep you pregnant they'll have nothing to complain about."

His hands push her shoulders down, a little forceful as he gives himself better access to her cunt. He starts moving faster, but not fast.

"I've never wanted anything as much as I want you."

It's a nice thought, a nice dream. Her heart and cunt flutter in unison, persuaded by the confidence imbued in his declarations and the sweetness of his confession.

Maybe they'll listen to him--maybe--

His hips buck into her and she drops to her elbows, keening pleasure. Her fingertips glide down her body, past the hem of her t-shirt, over her stomach. They brush against the pressure of his cock. Head bowed, she stares at the swell in her belly as he fucks her. In the next few seconds, she tenses, the sight causing her to shatter around him.

Cable watches her vigilantly, studying her hand as it disappears under her to cup her belly. He feels her clench and it surprises him that it comes so soon after her first.

His hand winds around her, enveloping her belly with his hand. It's both protective and possessive. The hand on her is gentle, his hips are not. His thighs smack against the backs of hers, making them both jiggle from the fast, erratic pace of his thrusts.

"That's my fucking girl." He hisses it at her. She never said it back. He desperately wants to hear it, but he'll reinforce it until she believes it. He knew fucking her once more was never going to be enough, he's going to need to service her far more.

"You'll never have a baby in your belly that's not mine." His free hand slides into her hair, taking a gentle fistful of it and pulling lightly on it.

"Soon you'll be in my bed-- never let you leave it."

This climax was a surprise to her as well. She has never brought herself to more than two in a row, but the way he pounds into her mercilessly feels so good, she thinks she can go again. If their first time was anything to go by.

She groans and whines and moans wildly, sounding far more like an animal in heat than anything else. If somebody caught her like this, she would surely die.

"Yes, yes, yes." Every one is exhaled at the end of a thrust, his thighs clapping against hers. Her eyes are all but rolling back into her head.

"I'll give you however many babies you want-- just don't stop!"

Somehow, Cable doesn't need to see her face to know the expression she's making. He bites down on his bottom lip, gripping her thighs tightly as he holds on. These moments will be rare, he's sure, he wants to get as much out of it as he can.

"Fuck-- you're a good girl." He sounds like he's in awe of her. He bucks his hips forward, making her fall forward on her front. It doesn't stop him, he hooks his hands around her hips and pulls her on and off his cock like a sleeve.

Cable falls silence, just breathing harshly and hissing through his teeth. His hands press her down onto his cock as he peaks, draining his cock into her. As he descends, his arms wind around her and he spreads his hand over her stomach.

"Your pussy's going to ruin me."

She doesn't come again, but that doesn't make it feel any less amazing, being fucked and filled like the good breeder she is. She's really grown into her role.

Her hips still roll beneath him, as if she can milk every last drop. Making good on that remark. Her mouth issues contented moans and sighs, her forehead pressed to the grooves of the floor. It was cold, but her hot skin has warmed it.

"That was ... " She really has no words for it, but she understands why he needed to see her. She needed that, too. She smiles. "Amazing."

Unable to articulate a compliment that sums it up any better, Cable hums. He rolls her into his arms and sits up, crosslegged with her in his lap. His fingers brush against her cheek before he cups her face. He draws her head closer, touching their foreheads together. A few focused thoughts and her nausea and discomfort will be resolved for days. He'll hold it for as long as he can.

As it happens, he has plenty of opportunity to refresh the psychic hold he has on her symptoms. He sees her almost every second day at this point. He's growing reckless and unconcerned.

They're muted by his powers, but through the gap in the curtain Francesca is visibly bent over her bed while Cable bounces against her backside and fucks her like nobody's watching. But they are.

The morning after his visit, her nausea and weakness are gone. Just like that. There's some idle curiosity, some latent disappointment. Speculation that the child isn't an omega after all. Nobody really says anything to her about it. Every viable pregnancy is a successful one.

Francesca keeps their time together to herself, knowing it's disallowed. Nathan visits her as often as he can. Sometimes, it's just in her mind, to check up on her, to make sure their baby is doing well. And she is. Growing, thriving.

At eight weeks, she's starting to show. Both her expanding stomach, and some manifesting side effects. Things begin to float away or disappear. She can hear voices -- thoughts that aren't her own. Her own powers sharpen and strengthen.

When he fucks her, it takes her mind off of everything. On her knees, face down in the bedding, she doesn't notice the pair of eyes on them. One of his hands presses her down at the top of her back, pinning her there. She's already peaked twice, once while he ate her out and the second when he fingered her before sliding in to fuck her properly. It's his turn.

So distracted, neither of them is aware of being found out by one of her peers, or of an authority figure being called upon to stop them, until the curtains are ripped away and her name is barked out.

Cable knows their baby is an omega. They're powerful. They already communicate. Simple exchanges, but she's developing impressively fast. He knows it drains Francesca. He does everything he can to give her relief.

For a time, he was worried by how slim she had become. Now she's keeping food down and filling out. He finds he likes it. Even though he can sense the life in her, having a hand on her belly while he fucks her makes him feel closer to them both.

This combination of the love he has for Francesca and the love he has for his baby seems to really peak his hormones. And yet. He struggles to satisfy himself. He can't even will himself to impregnate anyone else. Can't sustain interest in anything but her. Them.

It makes him irrational and irritable. So much so that the interruption angers him-- even when he knows he's been caught red-handed. It infuriates him, even though he's a traitor. His pants slide back up and Francesca is pulled behind his back.

"Leave."

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