Red, white, black
Sometimes
it was just a look that Wanda would give him, and he'd know exactly what
she meant by it. He did anyway, they just worked like that. They had always
just been that way, always knowing what the other one
knew and everything was in tandem. And then...he'd sped up and even though he
didn't want to leave Wanda behind, sometimes he didn't have a choice. The world
had slowed down to a snail crawl, and that included his twin as well. But some
things were better for being so slow.
Every movement she made was a delight in imagery and grace, the trickling slowness
just adding to the beauty of it. Everyone else irritated him, they moved so
slowly, their minds moving about ten chapters behind him when he'd already read
the book. But Wanda...
It was so hard to be angry at her about anything.
She picked him up when he was down, let him be weak
around her when he had to be strong in front of everyone else. And she could do
the same with him. Their lives had been twined around each other from the
outset, starting in the womb and continuing ever since. The hysterical outburst
when she'd found out that she bled with no wound - and that had been because
their Father was too distracted with building the war against humans to
consider basic feminine biology and explaining it to his motherless daughter -
had been soothed by him. Everything...they did everything together, talked
almost constantly and stayed aloof from everyone around them. The fact that
Magneto seemed to subtly discourage any relationships beyond their familial
unit just made the bond more cemented.
Sometimes he realised just how dysfunctional and
utterly fucked in the head he and Wanda both were. And then he continued the
line of thought to how he just didn't care. They were who they were, and the
rest of the world could go to hell. He always preferred to sleep with her, head
on her chest and listening to her heartbeat, arms wrapped around her and hers
wrapped around him. It helped him sleep, let him calm
down from the frantic pace that his world functioned in. Her hair always smelt
like roses. Red, red roses mixed with a few whites ones were always in her
room. Roses and Wanda.
He could have died for her. The touch of her hands along his shoulders, slowing
himself down so he didn't hurt her, the sound of her voice gasping in pleasure,
her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her so deeply. They were two
halves of the same perfect coin. Male and female, dark and
light. Meant to be forever joined. And he never
felt right when he was away from her, she was the
centre of his world that kept it functioning.
Rolling over in bed, Pietro lifted himself onto his
elbows and stared at Wanda. Sleeping. She spent so
much time sleeping. Glancing at his watch, he saw they had another couple of
hours before they had to get up and face the day. Before he had to leave and
pretend that he hadn't spent the night curled around Wanda, even though that
was pretty much an open secret. Although, he had dismembered
the last person who had commented on their unusual closeness. He grinned
wolfishly, remembering the screams so abrupt and the drawn out snap
of breaking bones. Magneto had not been happy about that. Reaching out, Pietro ran his fingers down the shallow curve of her spine,
tracing the line of her back gently. So soft. She made
a small questioning sound, and he leaned over to place a kiss on her shoulderblade.
"Go back to sleep, Wanda."
Of course, she didn't. Because when did she do what he told her to? Wanda was
most assuredly her own woman. Instead she rolled over, hair flowing like liquid
night against the white sheets. Red and white and black.
Everything came back to that. Red blood on white sheets.
Black hair on white pillowcase. White
hair against black hair. White skin against red
leather. Everything functioned in red and white and black. She reached
for him, fingers dancing through the air and he let her come to him, smiling
mouth and sleepy loving eyes so warm as she looked at him and through him and
saw perfection. Just as he looked back at her and saw the same thing. There was
no one more wonderful then themselves. Brother sister
marriages were not unknown in history. It kept bloodlines pure, the strong
strains together. Let a dynasty continue in ultimate purity. Perhaps that was
why Magneto didn't say anything. He was building for a future that would exist
when humans didn't any more. And who better to continue his governance then
those that contained his DNA exclusively?
After all, wasn't that they were fighting about anyway?
"So...beautiful..." Wanda murmured into his ear, warm breath exhaling
against his skin as her nails traced down over his chest. Her heart beat. So strong. It made up his world, feeling her skin pulse with
life as the blood ran through her, continual journey without end. Life. She was his life. Kissing her was like coming home,
reaching back to his beginnings. Because without her, there
was nothing. With a rustle of sheets, she pushed him down onto his back,
straddling his waist. Teasing them both. God, he
wanted her, needed her, and she knew it, the wonderful bitch goddess, god, he loved her so much it made his chest hurt. "And all
mine."
"Always."
Rewarded by a dazzling smile, Pietro arched upwards
slightly with a moan as she leant down and bit at the side of his neck, hands
coming to rest on her hips and urge the lower half of her body towards his
face. Beautiful. Perfect. She fit his hands exactly,
everything about her was exquisite. Arch of her back was like music. Taste. Maybe this was why the world moved slower, so he
could concentrate on the taste and feel of her, salt musk against his
tongue, listen to the soft sighing, the grip of her fingers wound through his
hair. Should grow it so she could get a better grip, but it always looked so
stupid when his hair was long. Slow rippling movement, insistent that he move
his tongue a little faster.
"Pietro...aaaah, Pietro, yes..."