FicWad

Warren Worthington sat up very straight and tall, very nearly on the edge of the seat. One might have thought it was perhaps his good breeding kicking in. On truth though, he sat that way simply because he had to.

He was in charge of Xavier's finances and investments. This meeting that was about to start was pretty important. Warren checked his watch. This particular woman had never been late before. She seemed to have a sense of humor, something most business people were seriously lacking, and Warren was rather fond of her.

"Mr. Worthington, I am sooo sorry." She came rushing in, carrying several folders, with papers spilling out. Her hair was falling out of the bun she had pinned it up in.

"It's all right, Ms. Johanssen." He said pleasantly as he stood. Already there were kinks in his shoulders and his sides ached. He shook hands with the women as she sat down, smoothing her hair as best she could.

There was someone else in the room, someone he didn't know. She looked like Ms. Johanssen, but without the strands of gray threaded through her dark brown hair. She wore glasses and her eyes were more gray than blue, like the other woman's. She was a little bit shorter, and wore a t-shirt and jeans as opposed to the suit her companion was sporting.

"Mr. Worthington, this is my daughter Ilonka. I'm terribly sorry I had to bring her, but there was an emergency, and she had to come with me today." The girl looked down, her shoulder length hair falling in front of her face like a veil. She peered up at Warren as a widow stares at the mourners come to her husbands funeral.

"That's all right," Warren swallowed. Her hands were shoved into her pockets. He looked at them, and couldn't help but notice the swell of her hips. That led him to looking at the lumps of her breasts, full and delicious looking beneath the black t-shirt.

"I can send her out into the lobby if you like." Ms. Johanssen was already rifling through her purse. She came up with a few crumpled bills.
"Ilonka, wouldn't you like to get something to eat?"

"She can stay." Warren said louder than he meant to. Both women stared at him. But Ilonka's smooth pink lips held just a hint of a knowing smile. Her mother looked surprised.
"I mean, no need for her to have to site out there and be boerd. She's quite fine in here. No bother at all."

"She will be very quiet." Her mother promised. Ilonka sat gracefully in the rolling seat next to Ms. Johanssen, who was pulling out sheet after sheet of paper. Ilonka and Warren locked eyes while she busied herself.

A shiver ran up Warren's spine. The girl folded her hands primly on the tabletop. She seemed to be wearing a coat of clear nail polish, so they shone just a little bit. He noticed a small silver cross-nestled at her throat.

"So, about the stocks you bought." Ms. Johanssen began. And they were off. Warren listened as well as he could, but his eyes kept straying over to the girl. She reached up from time to time to touch the cross, as though anxious about something. But other than that, she was perfectly calm.

When they were through, Warren had an uneasy feeling, as though he'd just lost the Professor quite a great deal of money. Ah well, he thought to himself. Perhaps not, as Ms. Johanssen was pursing her lips as she organized her papers.

"Are we going home now, Mom?" Ilonka asked softly. Her voice was gentle and musical.

"I'm afraid not, sweetie. I still have three more meetings." She looked at her daughter sympathetically.
"I'm so sorry. I know this isn't as much fun as going to the museum would have been."

"Not your fault." Ilonka bit her lip.

"I could take her home." Warren offered before he knew what he was saying. Ms. Johanssen almost dropped her bag. Ilonka's eyes lit up.

"Oh, Mr. Worthington, I couldn't ask you to do that." But even as she spoke it, she sounded tempted. Warren knew she couldn't be getting too much work done, dragging a moody teenager along with her wherever she went.

"It's not a bother at all. Really," he looked at her significantly. "I don't mind at all. I'm sure Ilonka won't be a bother." Here he looked at her. She smiled shyly.

"Well," she hesitated and looked at Ilonka, who nodded just a little bit. "All right. I really appreciate this, Mr. Worthington. I owe you one." She quickly gave directions and then kissed Ilonka on top of her head.
"Be on your best behavior. He's doing us a big favor, darling."

Warren packed his brief case much slower. He could feel those gray eyes watching his every move. He cleared his throat as he stood.

"Well then, are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," she stood, straightening the black t-shirt. She fell into step beside him. He could smell hints of her perfume. If he wasn't mistaken, it was called Tinker Bell. He recalled the smell from those first days of private school. All the girls dabbed it behind their ears and on their wrists.

"How old are you?"

"I'll be seventeen next month." There was a shocked silence. "I know," she sounded amused.
"I look much younger, don't I?"

"I don't know," Warren looked at her thoughtfully. He examined her. Her body was small, and while that did make her look maybe a little bit younger, there was something in her eyes that would almost make you guess she was older. There was something in the way she walked and in the way she smiled. You put it all together with the clothes that made her look like a tom boy, the little girl perfume, the eyes and the walk, and you would generally become confused.

And maybe that was just her goal.

"So, what sort of car do you drive?" she asked in a friendly way as they exited the tall building.

"That one," he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys as he jerked his head towards the brand new car. He was given it with the intention that he only drive it to and from these business errands.

"Wow," she was clearly impressed. He walked a little ways ahead of her.

"How come you walk like that? So stiff and tall, I mean. You sat so straight in the meeting too. It can't be that comfortable." Ilonka asked, quite suddenly. It wasn't a strange question really, but it made him uncomfortable.

"That's just how my mother taught me, Ilonka."

"All right, Mr. Worthington."

"Warren. Call me Warren. Mr. Worthington is my father." He grinned at her, letting her know he wasn't angry. She smiled shyly back, tilting her head a little so it was just barely covered.

It made Warren think thoughts that didn't really belong in his brain. He shook his head to clear them away.

"All right, Warren." She sat carefully in the seat and buckled her belt before he could even say anything. That was a change from the teens he usually had to drive. They were constantly whining and complaining about it.

"Well, would you rather look a little uncool or be dead?" Scott had asked one day, frustrated at the constant whining about it during a car trip.

"Be dead!" Bobby had proclaimed, ever the smart mouth. Scott glared at him from behind the ruby glasses.

"Well, THAT can easily be arranged."

"....Uncool," Bobby gulped, hurrying to put on his belt.

"So, are you ready to go home?" Warren adjusted his mirror.

"I supposed," she looked out the window and sighed deeply. "I really wish that I could have gone on the field trip to the city. Everyone went the art museum."

"I'm sure there will be at least a million other chances. We do live right outside New York City, after all." That was about the best he could do at being comforting. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he was mentally kicking himself.

"Oh, I know. I was just really excited to go. They were having a special exhibit on religions paintings."

"That sounds cool," Warren pulled into traffic.

"I couldn't go because the kids don't like me. When I went to school today, these kids tried to tie me to a pole in the gym and light me on fire." Warren turned and looked at her with horror.
"Oh don't worry," she smiled brightly. "They didn't tie the ropes too tight, and the sprinklers turned on before the fire even got very hot."

"But Ilonka, why would anybody do that?" he was shocked. He had heard some terrible things as far as peer abuse, but that was quite awful.

"Oh, they wanted to make me a saint." She shrugged. "They think I think I am one. I don't but you couldn't get them to believe it."

"Oh," Warren blinked. Ilonka fell quiet.

"There's something about you," she said when they had stopped at the next light. "I'm not sure what it is. It's got something to do with the way you sit and stand. There's just something that I can't quite put my finger on." She studied him intently.

"Why do you say that?" he glanced at her, not wanting to take his eyes off the road for very long.

"I can feel it in the air around you. It's almost a taste, Warren. You know what I'm talking about. Will you tell me what it is?"

"I don't think I had better." He suddenly felt very sad. He wanted to show her. It was some inexplicable reason. He normally hated for anyone to see his wings. Ilonka looked at him carefully.

"But you want to show me."

"It doesn't matter." He flicked on his turn signal.

"No, it doesn't." she sat back quietly. Warren's back ached. He wanted to be free, dammit.

"If I show you, do you promise to not tell anyone? EVER?" he stressed that part. Ilonka thought it over before nodding.

"I promise, Warren."

"Will your mother worry if you don't go directly home? I don't want to get in trouble."

"You heard her. She has two more meetings. She probably won't even go right home after those are over." She explained calmly. Warren drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

"Okay then. I'll show you, Ilonka."

**

They drove to the mansion. The beauty of the building overtook her. The moss and ivy had crept up over the bricks, making it look like a half forgotten fairy tale castle.

"What is this place?" she breathed.

"Home," Warren felt that same feeling he always got when he laid eyes on the place. Peaceful and satisfied. He smiled.
"It's a boarding school for the gifted." He lied smoothly. It wasn't really a lie, he tried to tell himself. All the kids here were gifted.

Himself included.

"I see," Ilonka blinked. Warren offered her his arm, always remembering those manners he had been taught long ago. She giggled as she slid her arm through it. Together, they walked through the cooling autumn afternoon.

He led her through the entrance and up the stairs. He closed his eyes. He knew how this was going to look. He grabbed her hand and rushed her through the halls, not wanting anyone to see them.

He opened the door to her room and practically threw her inside. He then entered and closed the door behind him, being sure to lock it. She was sitting on the bed, sweetly composed as though she were a girl from an old fashioned novel. Her legs were crossed; her hands were folded on her lap.

"I promised you I would show you. So you have to promise not to freak out on me, okay?" he stammered. His palms were sweating. She nodded, expression not changing. She looked expectant, and perhaps just a little excited, but nothing more than that.

Warren pulled of his blue suit jacket and draped it over the chair that went with the desk in his room. He undid the red tie and draped that over it. He pulled the dress shirt out of his pants and undid the buttons.

Ilonka gasped when she saw the harness he wore to keep his wings down. She cupped her mouth with her hand as she stared at him, eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Does it hurt, to wear them so?"

"Every day," Warren said softly. Carefully, Ilonka got off the bed and slowly made her way over to him. Her hand trembled as she reached out and touched one wing.
"It's okay. You won't hurt me. Touch them, Ilonka." Warren encouraged. Ilonka let her palms run down a wing.

"I want to see them. Can you take the harness off?" even as she asked permission, her fingers were finding the buckles that kept him pinned down. She slid the leather off. Warren breathed a sigh of relief and joy as his wings spread.
"You're--,"

"A mutant," he said flatly.

"Beautiful," she finished gently. She touched his wings at the very tips, stroking the feathers. It sent yet another chill down Warren's spine. She stroked all the way in until she got to his shoulders. She put her hands on his bare shoulders and began to knead the muscles there. He sighed happily again and looked wonderingly at the girl standing in front of him.

"You don't think I'm a freak?" he asked carefully.

"Oh, no!" she shook her head. "You're like... Like an angel." Reverently, she touched his face. She buried her fingers in the short blond hair. Reluctantly, Warren reached up and pulled off her hands.

"I'm not really."

"Oh, but you are! You are!" she insisted. Before he could stop her, she had put her arms around his waist and rested her face against his bare chest; her ear hearing his heart beat.

"Ilonka," he said her name like a prayer. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling his wings in so they covered the both of them like a shield. He held her tightly for a few minutes, before she fidgeted. He released her.

She began the slow walk around him, as though she were going to worship him. Her fingers ghosted over the wings, and then his shoulder blades where they protruded. Warren shivered from the feeling. Goosebumps rose up on his skin.

Ilonka stopped and seemed to look closer at his back. He closed his eyes again. He knew what she was seeing, knew what her fingers were feeling.

"Warren, why--?"

"I tried to cut them off, once. When my wings were first growing in, I took some of my dad's tools and cut my own wings off. My feathers and blood both fell on the bathroom floor that day." His voice cracked, and he could hear her breath catch.

"Oh, Warren, why? They're so beautiful. Why would you ever want to destroy something so beautiful?" she wrapped her arms around his neck. He reached up and held on to both of her hands. He could feel her hot tears sliding down the back of his neck. Was it true? Could it really be that she was weeping? Weeping for him and pain of the loss of his wings?

"Because I couldn't see how beautiful they were at the time." He confessed. He bent and pressed a kiss to one of her wrists. They stood there like that for a moment.

"Make love to me, Warren." Her voice was so warm and sleepy, he wasn't sure he had heard her right.

"What?"

"Make love to me." She came around to the front, put her arms around his neck again. He was taller than she was, so she had to stand on tiptoe.
"You're an angel. If you love me, then I'll be divine. Make me divine, Warren. Please?"

"You don't know what you're asking." Warren clenched his teeth. She pressed her face to the crook of his neck, so he could feel her lips moving whenever she spoke.

"I do so know, I do! Please, Warren? Please, Angel of Beauty?" she begged sweetly. Though it almost broke his heart in two, Warren pushed her away.

"Don't do this to me, Ilonka. Don't do this to yourself!" she was laying on the floor. He guessed that maybe he'd pushed her a little but too hard. She was whimpering, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Warren's heart shattered then. He reached down to her on the ground. She pulled away, curling up on the floor, pulling her arm around her face so he couldn't see her as she cried.

"Warren! Angel, why did you do that?" she sobbed. Somehow he knew why did he reject her, not why did he push her. Warren knelt down, his wings drooping over her. She lifted her face, in shadow for the fact that he was blocking the light.

"Because I'm not an angel, Ilonka. I can't make you divine."

"Yes you can." She said firmly. "I know that you can. You are an angel, and you were sent to me to make me divine. Please Warren," she sat up and opened her arms. "Make love to me."

"Ilonka," he whispered her name. He bent and picked up the girl, cradling her in his arms. She leaned against him, happy to let him carry her weight.

"Angel of Beauty," she answered. He walked out of the room, wings free. He walked out the door. The day was cool, and he shivered for the lack of a shirt. He flapped is wings and gently lifted them off the ground, holding her tightly.
"We're flying!"

"Yes, darling, I can make you fly." He bent and kissed her lips as he flew them over the mansion the backyard. Tucked away in a long abandoned corner of the property was a small cemetery. The tombstones were so old; you could no longer read the inscriptions. But there was one thing there that Angel had always loved more than anything else in the whole mansion.

There was a tall, crumbling stone angel. Her wings were spread, and her hair was long and loose. Her arms were wrapped loosely around herself. She had a patient, all enduring expression on her face. Many a time had Warren come and sat at her feet, his own wings spread as he told her all that he thought and felt.

And she seemed to hear him.

"Ilonka," he set her down gently. She leaned against him still. "Ilonka, look."

"Oooh," she clasped her hands as she looked at the moss-covered angel. Warren smiled as he began to kiss her neck.

Gently, he laid her down on a bed of dry leaves at the angel's feet. They knew that she would watch over them as they both became divine, as they both joined in what seemed like it could be Holy Matrimony.

Warren untied her shoes, lining them up and tucking her socks inside so she wouldn't loose them. He undid the button on her jeans and pulled down the zipper. Her body was trembling, though with arousal or fear, Warren could not say.

"You are the Angel of Beauty. I knew it the moment I set eyes on you." She said as Warren grabbed the hem of her t-shirt. She sat up so he could pull it off, and lifted her hips so he could divest her of her jeans.

"I am not. You are the Angel of Beauty. You're so beautiful, Ilonka." He kissed the exposed part of her breasts, not covered by the lacy bra. His hand was laid flat on her belly.

"Please Warren, please." She arched her back as he pulled down her bra and swirled his tongue around her nipple. It immediately became hard. He took it into his mouth and suckled gently as he coaxed her into pulling her body upright just a little way. He undid the clasp of her bra and pulled the garment off her arms and body.

He nuzzled the space between her breasts, cradling one as he reached down with the other to undo his pants. He slid them off, along with his boxers. He knew they were somewhere near her pile of clothes. It didn't matter where. All would be found when he needed them.

He had faith in that.

For the first time in a long time, he had faith. He looked up at the stone angel as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the lacy panties. She was smiling. Those stone lips had been carved into the faintest of smiles. How had he never noticed that before? But he returned the smile and pulled off the underwear.

They were both naked now, naked on the leaves under the loving gaze of the angel. All the angels. With both hands, he gingerly spread her knees. She was gripping handfuls of leaves. The rustling of them breaking in her hands was the sweetest music Warren had ever heard.

He spread his wings wide as a blanket from the cold for them both. One hand covered her pussy. Warren felt himself growing quite hard as he felt the wetness on his fingertips. One finger dove into her slowly.

She was a virgin. Someone so tight and responsive had to be a virgin. She whimpered when Warren penetrated her. He let her get used to the feeling of his finger inside of her, before he began to pull it out of her and push it back it. He set up a rhythm doing this, until the lift her hips matched it.

He legs spread wider all their own. Warren withdrew his finger all the way and pulled himself up so he was hovering over her.

"You can still change your mind, Ilonka." He whispered into her ear. Her eyes were screwed shut tight, and her cheeks her bright red. She turned her head from side to side, meaning no.

"Don't forsake me now, Angel. Please, give this to me. I beg you."

"I'll give it to you if you so ask." And he plunged inside of her. She screamed and gripped him, nails digging into his back. He knew she was feeling the pain, and so though it was hard, he lay still, embedded inside of her.

"It's better now. Move. You have to move," she was starting to get restless below him. And so Warren began to the rhythm he had started with his finger, in and out, in and out, in and out. Her hips began to rise to match him, thrust for thrust.

Her legs wrapped around his hips. She was moaning softly, but it became louder and louder as he pumped harder and harder into her. Suddenly, she tensed, and Warren could feel her muscles contracting around his penis.

It was enough to send him over the edge. He spilled his hot seed into her vagina. He pulled out of her and laid next to her, one wing over her. He let his hand rest against her cheek.

"Now I really am Divine. I'll have the child of the Angel of Beauty." She murmured. Warren hushed her with a kiss. It was only a few moments before her eyes drifted shut. Warren stayed awake, watching her.

He looked at the stone angel.

"May you always watch over us," he whispered, before snuggling close to the girl, to protect her until she saw it fit to open her eyes and see the rest of the world. Until then, he would keep her in the embrace of his wings.

They would be Divine.