A Moment's Peace (Mystique)

“Yes, desperate,” she chuckled, feigning a bit of drama in her voice. “I will gladly pay for this party, if you are able to come up with something.” Already, Barbara could see the wheels turning in Mystique’s head and she wondered just what the woman was planning on for this party. As for the poor immigrant remark, she just looked at Mystique. “If you’re needing a new wardrobe, I’ll gladly pay for that as well.” Normally, she wasn’t the type to offer such niceties, but Mystique was different in that regard. Plus, it was easy to see that is was rare for her to have happiness these days. Besides, it simply wasn’t proper for a guest to wear something old at a party, particularly if they were the ones planning the entire thing.

For as much as she seemed to be an external sort of character, what with her shocking skin and vibrant hair color, Barbara had the rather strong impression that Mystique was much more complicated than what she had seen. Perhaps the idea of her being an extrovert was nothing more than a facade, that she, the real woman beneath all this, was entirely an introvert. Even the name she gave, Mystique, was clearly a diversion and a mystery. Barbara wouldn’t pry at all of this right away, but it certainly was a mystery or puzzle worth solving.

“Artie is… He is a business partner,” she informed Mystique. “We met purely by accident. I was at his club playing cards and we hit it off. Eventually the conversation turned to business and he has agreed to provide ways to move my inventory, along with finding potential buyers should the need arise. He is quite the fellow though. One that has many layers, which I’m sure you could tell by your ‘interview’. I haven’t even been able to figure him out yet. But then again, I’m not entirely sure I want to. Who knows what sort of man is at the center of his being.” Saying that left a bad taste in Barbara’s mouth. She could have been talking about herself just now, because she clearly wasn’t the same girl she was growing up, and that left the nasty thought of which was the real her; the girl she was then or the woman she is now?

When Mystique started talking again, the tone Barbara picked up was almost… she could have sworn it was that of either a married person or someone in love making such promises. It was one thing for them to make plans to travel as friends, but her saying repeatedly ‘I will see to it’? Those words stood out to Barbara and they seemed to hold both a promise and a power to them. However, the comment about a proper woman caused Barbara to break her thought process, since she snorted out a laugh. “I am not a proper woman, Mystique. You should know that.” But the laughter in her voice faltered into confusion as she saw Mystique’s smile and heard that last sentence.

“You’d be a man on our travels?” Barbara knew she could shape shift into a man, having seen Mystique become both Artie and Fisk, but it had never occurred to her that she’d be a man while they saw the world. She had expected Mystique to be a woman. She expected them to travel as friends and companions, not as perceived lovers. That news was a bit unexpected.

Poor immigrant. Getting steady on her feet again. Barbara couldn’t tell if Mystique was being sincere or if she was trying to play a sympathy card here. “I’m not normally in the habit of doing this,” Barbara told Mystique after studying her for a moment. “Nor do I think you’d willingly accept the offer, but the second bedroom is open if you need a second place to stay. All I ask is that you keep any liberation business away from my doorstep,” she said, trying to use what words she thought best to explain what Mystique was doing. “I have my own business and affairs I attend to that require a level of both privacy and secrecy and I’m sure yours do as well, so it’s likely you understand such precautions.” Whether Mystique accepted the invitation or declined it, it was none of her business, but the offer had been made.

“I’m sure that whatever you plan will be memorable and worth the money I spend. Particularly since one of your personas is already so memorable in a European restaurant,” she smirked.

When Mystique changed this time, Barbara found herself blinking and staring once more, but due to other reasons. She didn’t recognize the face of the man she saw, but his features were very much like the woman Mystique had just been, as if they were siblings. Both were redheads, quite fetching for their genders, and while Barbara wasn’t normally the type to let her gaze linger on a subject in such an obvious way, she did take her time looking over every inch of his figure and how he fit into her pajamas, which he did quite well. “No, it’s perfectly acceptable to be concerned with such thoughts, Mystique, especially these days. I’d rather we both be safe as we traveled.” Barbara’s smirk almost matched Mystique’s but more due to the amusement she had upon seeing the few feminine traits and mannerisms he held onto as a man. Some were effeminate, but other could be passed off as a dancer’s way of moving. Either way, it was impressively alluring to watch.

There was a small intake of breath as he touched her side and her hip almost imperceptibly moved into his hand when he rested it there. She shivered in delight and anticipation, something she found her body doing more frequently if she were even the tiniest bit interested in the person, ever since Africa. Not that she was a prude before, but the delights of the flesh just seemed all the more delightful now. Either way, Barbara could tell she would have been romanced by this no matter what. He knew how to kiss and to tease, hitting all the right points which made her exhale shakily at the caress of his lips and the warmth of his breath. One arm slipped up his back while the other rested on his hip, keeping him close, as her mouth sought out his. Just a taste, she thought. Nothing more than a post-meal trifle.

Barbara was indeed curious, and the longer she was kissing this Mystique, the more she was enjoying this bit of curiosity. She let herself sink into whatever rhythm that was asked of her. She swayed along with him, losing track of the time as they danced and sighing contently as he brought their bodies closer together. She imagined that this was what Casanova would have been like, but then she thought better of that and corrected herself. She doubted that Casanova could have been this good and actually loving women.

Even as a man, Mystique was different from another man she had been with. Of the few times Urzkartaga had visited her, it had been nothing but fiery, animalistic passions that fed them both and left her sore in the morning. Artie’s education had been more gentlemanly, but also thrilling, and left her sated while also feeling just the tiniest bit wicked. Her romps while at university had been just that; quick spats of hormonal need that left each party happy for the time being. But all of that had been under the assumption that the men thought they knew what a woman needed. In Mystique’s case, there was no doubt she knew exactly how to ensnare a woman and provide for her needs in the bedroom. She… he was just that good. A soft groan of happiness escaped her lips once he started rubbing her shoulders.

Her eyes opened once the kiss ended, and Barbara could tell that, by how bright and sharp everything was, her eyes were no longer normal looking, not that she cared. She was too relaxed and in the moment, and from what she could tell, Mystique didn’t care about her eyes either. Then again, he… she… normally had solid yellow eyes which certainly left an impression with everyone. The hand at the back of her neck was a surprise, and for a moment Barbara froze and resisted before giving in to a second kiss, her own hand following suit and running through his locks.

Whether it was due to the time of day, the fact that she was full from a meal, or simply because those kisses were just so damn satisfying, Barbara reluctantly broke away from Mystique’s lip only to settle down again him, head resting upon his shoulders, arms still holding him tight. “God, that was wonderful,” she purred. “If you kiss like that all the time, I think I know why Holt Adler has such a reputation.” She could kiss him forever and be content all the while. Truth be told, Barbara was a greedy woman by nature, and right now she wanted Mystique all to herself and never let him go.

She held him close, pressing her body firmly into Mystique’s, yet somehow remaining relaxed at the same time. Barbara rocked her hips against him, not grinding per se, but if he was able to tease her, then turnabout was fair play. As he chuckled, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent, wanting to both hurry things along while also take their time this, because why rush it? “Oh, but I can imagine that those lips of yours can work wonders,” she purred, before suddenly biting his earlobe and giving a playful tug. Barbara’s body responded in kind to the tease she just initiated; her leg rose up his thigh, her intentions making it clear that she was past this bit of delicate foreplay.

“As sweet and as gentle as you are, Mystique, you’re teasing me too bloody much. I can’t tell if you’re going to go further or not, and it’s annoying.” Almost as soon as Barbara said that, she found herself swept off her feet and up into Mystique’s arms as he walked her towards the bedroom, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh you bad boy,” she breathed, cupping her face once more in her hands and kissing him hungrily.

Once by the bed, Barbara refused to let go and, as a result, they both ended tumbling onto the mattress. Almost immediately, her hands snaked up and under Mystique’s pajama top, fingers caressing the curves and planes of his body until they found one of his stitched up injuries. Reacting as if she had been bitten, Barbara quickly removed her hands from underneath his clothes. She had completely forgotten about those damned injuries. This absolutely frustrated her. She wanted him, that was not even a question up for debate, but he was likely in no shape to do such strenuous activities. The look she gave Mystique was almost that of a frustrated and petulant child being denied a sweet she desperately wants. Perhaps they were as bad as initially thought. After all, Barbara couldn’t smell any blood and his clothes were still clean.

Deciding she had to see everything in order to judge, Barbara quickly unbuttoned the pajama top and discovered that while still bad, the wounds weren’t nearly as ugly as they were when Mystique first arrived. She also noted how kissable his pale chest looked. Once more distracted by all things cartel, Barbara began to leave a trail of lipstick kisses along the uninjured parts of Mystique’s chest. “If your flesh is willing, I will not deny you one bit,” she breathed. "And I sincerely hope it's willing."