Jimaine's strong, slender hands moved up his back and neck bury themselves in the tangled blue-black mass of his hair. She acted as if there was no hurry, as if sunrise would never come. It seemed and eternity before her fingers stopped exploring his hair and ears and began to slide over his skin-tight costume, looking for a place to slip through to his skin.

Taking her cue, Kurt slipped his hands under her loose soft-leather tunic, feeling the faint ridges of the scars on her chest and flanks and the slight swell of her breasts. There was no excess fat on her body, but that was typical in a world where food was scarce and a non-polluted water-source was very close to being a luxury. What caught his attention was how she was not simply skin and bone, but muscle as well.

By now, Jimaine's fingers were scrabbling impatiently against his outfit. Finally, she stopped her efforts and stepped away. "All right, Kurt, you have me baffled. How do you get out of that thing?" She grinned wickedly. "Better yet, how do I get you out of it?"

BAMF!

Kurt Darkholme's empty clothing fell to the ground. He reappeared behind her in less than a second. "I'll demonstrate in greater detail later."

"So you've already decided they'll be a later?" she asked with a another grin. She unfastened the clasp of her cloak and let the garment flutter to the ground. With the same unhurried ease that she'd demonstrated earlier, she undid the drawstring holding her trousers up slid them off.

Kurt was all but panting by the time she drew off her shirt. He was also starting to feel distinctly self-conscious. They'd been traveling for several days without changing clothes. Jimaine was loathe to risk setting off detection scans by using their powers for something as routine as cleansing clothes. And while Meggan did use her elemental powers to summon and purify water for their drinking, Pete didn't want to waste time with things like bathing. They all had several days worth of travel-grime clinging to their clothes and bodies and, to be quite frank, they stunk.

"Oh, now this is charming. Do you always wear your swords during the dirty deed?" asked Jimaine, as she moved her bare body close to his again. She brushed her fingers over the leather strap running across his chest and up to where it connected to the scabbard on his back.

"I rarely remove them," he admitted. "You never know when you might be attacked."

You and Pete are two of a kind.' Jimaine thought the words, but didn't say them. She didn't want to upset him right then. All she said was, "Very becoming." and kissed him again.

Now Jimaine's hands were tracing over Kurt's own scars, and caressing his brittle fur. Kurt was glad that the dark light kept her from seeing his body better. There were probably patches of blue fur falling out, thanks to the high amount of pollution in the air and the radiation poisoning that he'd recently gotten over.

'Not to mention the fact that you should be ashamed of more than your body right now,' chirped a merrily malicious voice in the back of his mind. 'Let's see, where should the list begin? How about here: you're a lying sack of waste, Darkholme. She thinks that you're merely the bearer of bad news. How much worse would it be if she knew that you were the cause of it? That YOU convinced your mother to coax Destiny away from Avalon, and that because Damask and Wade followed you, Avalon lost so many of it's inhabitants?'

Kurt, busy sinking to the ground with Jimaine, told the voice to shut up.

'Sure, you told Ramsey that it would have happened sooner or later, no matter what, but did you really believe what you were saying? No, of course not. You could lie to that naive little tree-hugger, but not to yourself. You caused the fall of Avalon, Kurt. You left Damask to die.

You abandoned the X-Men. Everything you touch dies.'

As he had for a while now, Kurt tried to ignore his inner voice. He was too busy between Jimaine's thighs to pay it any attention. Unimpeded, it rolled on.

'Enjoying yourself? You like contaminating things, don't you? Well, she'll probably die now, and it'll be your fault, no matter how it happens. Do you think it'll take long? How long did Damask scream while those flatscans were working her over...?'

"OW! Kurt, please! Relax a bit." Surprised, Nightcrawler looked down as Jimaine slipped her fingers underneath his hands and lifted them from her breasts.

"You have quite a grip for someone with so few fingers," she continued. "But there is some feeling left in my flesh yet, and I'd thank you to be more careful."

"Sorry..." he muttered, letting her lift his hands away from her. 'Oh, that was an eloquent apology.'

Kurt disregarded his self-criticism and concentrated on finishing. He felt embarrassed, awkward, and ashamed of himself. But before he could continue, Jimaine had slipped out from underneath him.

"Loose your taste for the exotic?" he asked, too mortified to even bring proper venom to the words.

"No, but you're not enjoying this." Her tone was less than thrilled, but carried with it a note of concern. For a moment Kurt was afraid that she was going to ask what his problem was, but she never did. Instead she began to laugh softly.

He had to ask. "Was?"

"I'm just wondering if Arron or Catseye overheard us."

"I doubt it. But why is that so humorous?"

"Because if Pete asked what we were doing out here, they'd be too happy to tell him, just to see if any blood vessels behind his eyes would burst."

Kurt tried to keep the detached, defensive mien he had for most of the trip so far, but he couldn't. His laughter joined Jimaine's.

"Yes, I can picture Herr Wisdom's reaction quite clearly," he chortled.

"Oh, this is horrible," Jimaine scolded Kurt and herself, still laughing. "Pete's under a lot of stress leading the lot of us across this scrapheap of a country."

Moonlight glinted against Kurt's fangs as his lips parted in a vulpine grin. "That doesn't make him any less paranoid. And this is fraternizing with the enemy, big time."

The remains of the tense expectation that had been sitting between the two of them melted away under a new deluge of laughter. Neither one was sure who made the first move towards a second attempt, but a minute later, limbs and lips were locked again. This time, the voices in Kurt's head held their peace.

Later, the both of them sat propped against the trunk of the tree in lazy post-congical contentment, with Jimaine's cloak straining to stay wrapped around the two of them.

"You know," Kurt started, lazily running his left hand over her thigh, "I hadn't the slightest idea that laughter was supposed to be an aphrodisiac."

"Neither did I. Ah, well. A healer can't know everything." With obvious reluctance, she stood and began to gather her clothes together. "We'd best get back to the others. They will worry."

"Let them."

"Kurt, it's dangerous to stay away from the group."

"You're starting to sound like Wisdom."

Jimaine gave Kurt a slightly impatient look. "Pete's caution can get annoying, I agree, but you must admit that he's right. You should know how dangerous this run is. Even if Apocalypse is dead, his people are still around."

Kurt conceded the point with ill grace, but got to his feet and dressed . The two of them walked back towards their fellow travelers.

"So?" Jimaine asked briskly.

"So? So what?"

"Have you made up your mind? Will there be a later?" Her face skewed up when his only reply was a shrug, but she didn't press. "I suppose we'll see then."

"Yes, I suppose we will."

Catseye was on guard when Kurt and Jimaine finally strolled back into the camp. She was fluffed and stiff with rage by the time they came into view. Their scent had proceeded them, and she knew very well what they had been up to. Only a warning glare from Mothermother Szardos and the fact that Kurt-blue-stink-enemy kept his hands near his swords kept Catseye from attempting to turn him into so much bleeding meat.

After Kurt had gotten settled and dozed off, Jimaine came over and sat by the younger shape-changer.

"Sharon..." she began.

Catseye snarled and flattened her ears against her skull. She didn't want to hear anything, be it explanations or platitudes. She didn't hate Mothermother Szardos. Never that. But she was very angry with her.

With a sigh, Jimaine settled on the ground (closer to Kurt than usual, noted the feline with disgust) and was asleep within minutes, leaving Catseye to sit in the ring of dying firelight and brood.

To Be Continued in part eleven...