Nate scratches some very specific points in her brain. The need to feel gorgeous and perfect? Done. Hot man she can fuck when she gets lonely? Check. No strings attached whatsoever? Wonderful.
She's pretty sure he's fine with it too. She felt his loneliness, and he felt hers. Sounds about right.)
( Staring to her, his gaze drops for half a second before she's suddenly pulled in close to him. Not by his hands. By his mind. Telekinetically. Pulled onto his lap with hands resting on her thighs. If she wants to get off, she can. He won't keep her there, but. He cocks his head the other way — stares at her. )
Go ahead and hit me.
( Not literally. But with an attempt where he can't handle her. )
(It just pulls on her sanity a little. She's trying, by God she is trying not to fall into her old ways, which are still ever so fresh and her instinct ever so sharp. She has to forcefully resist when the Cuckoo in her moves to sit on the driver's seat, and it's not always effective. Sometimes, she can't help it and doesn't even notice what she is doing.
And here is Nate, handsome, sweet Nate, not only encouraging her to let the Cuckoo out, but asking her to break him.
It's not that she doesn't want to. It'd be so, so easy to stop controlling herself, but then again, her promise, her determination, her desire to be something more and better would be null. Sophie doesn't think Nate recognizes that; he doesn't know just how the Cuckoos are wired.
And yet, he challenges her at it.
The sensible thing to do would be to stop it right here, and right now. Ask him to talk to Quentin, Cuckoo-burnee-veteran burned by three (herself included) out of five Cuckoos, see if that shakes some sense into him, but the Cuckoo wins today.
It's she who moves to kiss him with the most ferocity she has in her.)
( He doesn’t know what she’s capable of — the things she could do to him and how she could potentially upset him. Really, unless he’s flat out lied to or things are kept from him, he more or less doesn’t take much to heart when it comes to people and their bullshit. He might rolls his eyes — might end up a little confused, but. Beyond that, he wonders if she’s really just trying to spare him whatever heartache she thinks she’s capable of dishing out on him. Because he’s felt her loneliness — he’s felt the gentleness beneath the surface of her skin and he refuses to believe she can truly be as bad as she says. As bad as she thinks.
Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe she will screw him over to the point where he wonders if even friendship between them was just all in his head. How can he know? But regardless of what may or may not happen, he’s right here with her. On the couch. In this Nyx building of hers and she’s kissing him with such an intensity he can’t help the moan that slips from him.
Hands grab to her lower back — lips brushing over hers — and his mind slips into hers much as his tongue does into her mouth, caressing her in ways intent on pulling whatever sounds he can out of her. It’s not that he forgot how sweet she tasted. It’s more that he forgot how much he enjoyed this. )
(All things she would do so, so easily, without a second thought. She doesn't want to, naturally. The longer she is away from the hivemind, the more she recognizes the issues that lied within it — even Sophie has been a victim of their own poison, which she had always known, but, what else could she do? It was her. It's how she came into existence, and what colored and remains coloring her every perception of the world, although the work she has been putting is to allow other colors to bleed through.
It's rotten work. It's difficult, and it's tiring, and a lot of the times, she just wants to scream into a pillow over it.
She doesn't. Sophie breathes in and faces another day, but here's Nate, asking her to just unleash on him and she... Struggles, to say the least. Victim blaming, like whatever she puts him through is going to be solely his fault, because he invited it with open arms.
No. Yes? She doesn't know. What she does know is that she pulled a noise out of him that is just so encouraging that she can't help but to jump into his brain and mess with his pleasure receptors to amplify input and make him more sensitive to every little move that she does as her arms wrap around his neck to bring him closer.
( The moment she fiddles around there in his mind, a spark within him ignites and lights him up like fireworks across the sky. That's how Nate Grey feels on the telepathic airways — it's why he needs to make a conscious effort to hide or dim his light when wanting to keep to himself. When not keeping himself in check, he's an overwhelming symphony of power that will one day burn him out in the literal sense. His mother may be life and fire incarnate, but Nate Grey is power incarnate, both to Sinister's pleasure and dismay.
But much like the Phoenix had become lost in the pleasures and desires Jean Grey had denied herself, so, too, does Nate fall victim to the way the pleasure feels when unlocked within him — when desires, needs, and a longing to feel and be something else become unchecked. It's just rather than a fire bird being the catalyst, it's entirely himself... with a little help from a Cuckoo.
Touching those parts of him within, suddenly there is a never ending ocean of potential he stands in the center of. A bright blue ocean of power that glows yellow and atomic beneath the surface, tempting him to slip beneath the waves and succumb to the untapped potential he possesses that makes him both revered and feared. Where the threads of reality itself would be at his mercy if he so desired. Because that's what's swelling within him currently: desire.
Hands reach down and grip her ass, rocking her against him amidst the heated sounds spilling from his lips onto hers until they come up to grab her chest instead — unabashed in the way he touches and holds her there on his lap. In the way a hand presses to the side of her neck and keeps her there as his own mind rubs against hers — dives between the folds of physical and emotional and strokes her as fingers would between her legs. )
There are Cuckoos who would kill, quite literally, to hold power like this in their hands. Sophie is, thankfully, not said Cuckoos. Power is something that interests her, but never at the same level — out of the five identical clones, she's the one with the most raw power, and it has never done her any good. It's gotten her killed, for starters, more than once. That said, it's not like she can't appreciate it. It overflows through her telepathic receptors, and it makes her kiss him so hard that her lips are going to end up plump, reddened and sore at the end of it.
She wasn't going to fuck him right here, right now. She hasn't decided — anyone can enter, some people certainly have the key, and she has a perfectly fine office upstairs, but he's making it hard to think with how he is touching her, feeling her, redirecting every thought she could have by the sheer intensity of touch.
He's up off the couch within a matter of seconds and he has her there with him in his arms. It's easier— faster if he just flies them and, after a quick telepathic scan of the building to locate where said office is, he takes them there, aura glowing bright gold around him as he does, much like his left eye does at times.
The door to the office is swung open and he quickly darts them inside, the door coming to shut frantically behind them right as he sets them both down, left eye now bursting with that warm gold. He can still feel himself standing there in the center of that ocean — of his own untapped potential — and he stares to her before he leans in to kiss her again, pouring that golden light of desire against her lips while he holds to her waist with his hands. )
(He's most likely going to glitch her if they end up in a telepathic roundabout, but you know, some things are worth it.
There's a small gasp from her when she's just picked up and flown — she should have predicted it, but look, again, she's not flown so often to be just used to it happening, especially so fast. The office has a couch, a fire exit, a desk, and a whole lot of boxes and cabinets to keep up with the organizational challenge that is keeping this place afloat, but most importantly is that she can lock the doors and close the curtains for privacy, just in case.
The same moment he stares at her, she stares back before she's overtaken by desire and warmth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clumsily guides them to the couch. Funny how they can't seem to make it to a bed, but there are no complains about her as she resumes the same position she had of straddling him once she manages to get him to sit down.)
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no subject
Date: 2025-06-17 08:38 pm (UTC)What? You think I can't handle you?
no subject
Date: 2025-06-17 08:52 pm (UTC)(That was like, Cuckoo light.
Nate scratches some very specific points in her brain. The need to feel gorgeous and perfect? Done. Hot man she can fuck when she gets lonely? Check. No strings attached whatsoever? Wonderful.
She's pretty sure he's fine with it too. She felt his loneliness, and he felt hers. Sounds about right.)
Gonna prove me wrong?
no subject
Date: 2025-06-17 08:57 pm (UTC)Go ahead and hit me.
( Not literally. But with an attempt where he can't handle her. )
no subject
Date: 2025-06-19 03:18 pm (UTC)And here is Nate, handsome, sweet Nate, not only encouraging her to let the Cuckoo out, but asking her to break him.
It's not that she doesn't want to. It'd be so, so easy to stop controlling herself, but then again, her promise, her determination, her desire to be something more and better would be null. Sophie doesn't think Nate recognizes that; he doesn't know just how the Cuckoos are wired.
And yet, he challenges her at it.
The sensible thing to do would be to stop it right here, and right now. Ask him to talk to Quentin, Cuckoo-burnee-veteran burned by three (herself included) out of five Cuckoos, see if that shakes some sense into him, but the Cuckoo wins today.
It's she who moves to kiss him with the most ferocity she has in her.)
no subject
Date: 2025-06-19 03:44 pm (UTC)Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe she will screw him over to the point where he wonders if even friendship between them was just all in his head. How can he know? But regardless of what may or may not happen, he’s right here with her. On the couch. In this Nyx building of hers and she’s kissing him with such an intensity he can’t help the moan that slips from him.
Hands grab to her lower back — lips brushing over hers — and his mind slips into hers much as his tongue does into her mouth, caressing her in ways intent on pulling whatever sounds he can out of her. It’s not that he forgot how sweet she tasted. It’s more that he forgot how much he enjoyed this. )
no subject
Date: 2025-06-22 01:41 pm (UTC)It's rotten work. It's difficult, and it's tiring, and a lot of the times, she just wants to scream into a pillow over it.
She doesn't. Sophie breathes in and faces another day, but here's Nate, asking her to just unleash on him and she... Struggles, to say the least. Victim blaming, like whatever she puts him through is going to be solely his fault, because he invited it with open arms.
No. Yes? She doesn't know. What she does know is that she pulled a noise out of him that is just so encouraging that she can't help but to jump into his brain and mess with his pleasure receptors to amplify input and make him more sensitive to every little move that she does as her arms wrap around his neck to bring him closer.
Fuck.)
no subject
Date: 2025-06-22 02:28 pm (UTC)But much like the Phoenix had become lost in the pleasures and desires Jean Grey had denied herself, so, too, does Nate fall victim to the way the pleasure feels when unlocked within him — when desires, needs, and a longing to feel and be something else become unchecked. It's just rather than a fire bird being the catalyst, it's entirely himself... with a little help from a Cuckoo.
Touching those parts of him within, suddenly there is a never ending ocean of potential he stands in the center of. A bright blue ocean of power that glows yellow and atomic beneath the surface, tempting him to slip beneath the waves and succumb to the untapped potential he possesses that makes him both revered and feared. Where the threads of reality itself would be at his mercy if he so desired. Because that's what's swelling within him currently: desire.
Hands reach down and grip her ass, rocking her against him amidst the heated sounds spilling from his lips onto hers until they come up to grab her chest instead — unabashed in the way he touches and holds her there on his lap. In the way a hand presses to the side of her neck and keeps her there as his own mind rubs against hers — dives between the folds of physical and emotional and strokes her as fingers would between her legs. )
no subject
Date: 2025-06-23 09:13 pm (UTC)There are Cuckoos who would kill, quite literally, to hold power like this in their hands. Sophie is, thankfully, not said Cuckoos. Power is something that interests her, but never at the same level — out of the five identical clones, she's the one with the most raw power, and it has never done her any good. It's gotten her killed, for starters, more than once. That said, it's not like she can't appreciate it. It overflows through her telepathic receptors, and it makes her kiss him so hard that her lips are going to end up plump, reddened and sore at the end of it.
She wasn't going to fuck him right here, right now. She hasn't decided — anyone can enter, some people certainly have the key, and she has a perfectly fine office upstairs, but he's making it hard to think with how he is touching her, feeling her, redirecting every thought she could have by the sheer intensity of touch.
Well, fuck, okay. Hold up.)
My office. Go. Now.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-23 09:44 pm (UTC)He's up off the couch within a matter of seconds and he has her there with him in his arms. It's easier— faster if he just flies them and, after a quick telepathic scan of the building to locate where said office is, he takes them there, aura glowing bright gold around him as he does, much like his left eye does at times.
The door to the office is swung open and he quickly darts them inside, the door coming to shut frantically behind them right as he sets them both down, left eye now bursting with that warm gold. He can still feel himself standing there in the center of that ocean — of his own untapped potential — and he stares to her before he leans in to kiss her again, pouring that golden light of desire against her lips while he holds to her waist with his hands. )
no subject
Date: 2025-06-29 04:44 am (UTC)There's a small gasp from her when she's just picked up and flown — she should have predicted it, but look, again, she's not flown so often to be just used to it happening, especially so fast. The office has a couch, a fire exit, a desk, and a whole lot of boxes and cabinets to keep up with the organizational challenge that is keeping this place afloat, but most importantly is that she can lock the doors and close the curtains for privacy, just in case.
The same moment he stares at her, she stares back before she's overtaken by desire and warmth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clumsily guides them to the couch. Funny how they can't seem to make it to a bed, but there are no complains about her as she resumes the same position she had of straddling him once she manages to get him to sit down.)