Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10755375.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      X-Men_(Comicverse)
  Relationship:
      Kitty_Pryde/Illyana_Rasputin
  Character:
      Kitty_Pryde, Illyana_Rasputin
  Additional Tags:
      Mutual_Masturbation, Friends_to_Lovers
  Series:
      Part 1 of Kitty_told_me_to_name_this_series
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-28 Words: 3772
****** Before We Kissed ******
by Magik3
Summary
     How roommates Kitty and Illyana start to become something more.
Notes
     This was inspired by a paragraph near the end of KittyViolet's work
     "Immaterial Girl": "They’ve done this, or something like this,
     together before, but it’s not something they talk about much; neither
     girl had realized how important it could be, nor had they decided
     what to call it, this thing they had done, together, in bed,
     sometimes. It fit them. It made more sense, infinitely more sense,
     than touching yourself alone, or not touching yourself, or wanting to
     touch your friend but never admitting it…"
     Reading that, I had to write out what had come before (with KittyV's
     permission, of course). How do two superpowered, magic, brilliant
     girls go from sharing a room, to sharing a bed, to sharing something
     even more intimate? (Especially considering how embarrassing that
     would be at that age!)
  This work was inspired by
      Immaterial_Girl by KittyViolet
For a long time, Kitty insisted that she didn’t remember how we started. I
think she was being shy. It was after I’d been at the mansion over a year,
maybe almost two. We were used to sharing a room. Used to sharing a bed more
and more often. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

If I’m being honest, I have to start with the weekend she walked in on me.

She was supposed to be out of town until Sunday. Most of the doors in the
mansion, especially the students’ doors, don’t have locks. Otherwise there’d be
way too many broken doors with all the times someone’s powers went out of
control and they needed help.

No locks meant being clever about, you know, taking care of things. One of the
few perks of hitting puberty in a demonic Limbo was that I never saw
masturbation as wrong—just something you didn’t do around other people. A bit
like conjuring my pentagram: a thing that was good for me to do, but would
freak out certain others. (Seriously, any room I called my pentagram in Rahne
would avoid for days.)

I didn’t know if Kitty was one of those people who got freaked out about
masturbation. And how would I have asked? Back then I had no idea that she was
doing the same sort of sneaking around that I was.

The only truly safe place was the shower, but that wasn’t nearly as comfortable
as bed. Kitty was off with the X-Men practicing in real world environments. It
was a prime weekend for the comfort of my bed and I was taking full advantage
of it. Friday night I fell asleep wrapped in a warm glow, and I figured
Saturday would be the same.

I’d been hanging out with the New Mutants like usual, watching a lot of movies
and complaining about everything. I’d learned to complain that year and become
quite good at it, though my timing was still off.

But the New Mutants were a hotbed of sexual tension. Everyone wanted to get
with Amara and/or Dani and/or Berto. I’d overheard Berto calling me “hot but
scary” so I think I was off the table. Plus I was not giving off much of a
“come and get me” vibe for the guys. Dani, on the other hand … if I hadn’t been
so afraid of her, maybe. But she and Rahne had a kind of thing going—a cute
pre-sexual, lots of touching thing—and who wants to mess with that?

When we went to the mall on Saturday for an actual movie in the theater, I hung
around the music store. I could browse CDs endlessly while checking out the
girl behind the counter. She was a spritely, dark-haired girl in combat boots
who always wore pigtails and garrishly red lip gloss. Her nametag said,
“Maggie” but the second time I bought music there, she said, “My friends call
me Meg,” so I did.

I was in there at least once a week, calling “What’s up, Meg?” from the door
and then going over to the trays of CDs to paw through and pretend I wasn’t
watching her. She usually came over to see what I was looking at, made
suggestions, brushed my arm or touched my fingers as she flipped to the next
case in the tray.

That Saturday the store had been overstaffed and she was in the back doing
stocking and inventory. She invited me back. I hefted some boxes for her and
she admired my shoulders—physically, with her fingers, for kind of a while.
Plus at some point in all the moving and sorting, she ended up pressed against
my side. I felt the curve of her breast against my arm and couldn’t breathe.

Fight demons? Sure. Ask a girl if she wanted to hang out later? No way.

Sam found me and told me we were leaving. I managed a stumbling good-bye to
Meg.

“What’s up with you?” Sam asked as we all trooped across the parking lot.

“Nothing,” I said, but Dani was looking at me in that deep, steady way, where
you think maybe she can’t just pull your fears and desires out for everyone to
see, maybe she sees them all the time.

This was clinched when we got back to the mansion. She followed me into the
kitchen and said, “You should ask her out?”

“Really? I’m the demon queen of Limbo and I should go out with a girl in a
music store? How is that a good idea?”

“You deserve some fun,” she said.

I didn’t disagree with that, but the whole thing left me feeling snarly and
much too hot inside. Late Saturday night, the house creaked and groaned as
people got late-night snacks, wandered to the bathroom or bed. On the floor
below, the younger kids seemed to be having a combination pillow and food
fight, from the sounds of the throwing and yelling.

I couldn’t sleep. Kitty was away. Natural next step: panties off, tank top
pushed up to the top of my chest. I remembered the feel of Meg’s breast against
my arm: the soft weight and yielding. I’d wanted to put my hand there, brush my
fingers along the curve of breast, maybe cup all of her breast in my palm.

I put my hand over my breast and wondered if hers felt the same. She was a
little bigger than me. Would my hand be enough? Would her nipple tighten and
rise at my touch? And how would I feel to her if she put her hand on mine? If
she put her hand just where mine was now? The idea made my nipple so hard, and
I rubbed my palm over it, feeling sensitive shocks through my breast and across
my palm.

I propped up on two pillows and turned on the bedside light to look down at my
breasts. How would they look to Meg? How did they seem to Kitty, who was always
worried about when her own would come in for real? She was having some trouble
with her hormones, phasing and puberty not being the best of friends, but the
doc said it would all work out. She just got so impatient. And I wanted to
reassure her, but there was no casual way to talk about boobs with her. Also,
there was no casual way to talk about boobs.

Mine probably had a bit more growing to do, but they fit my hand solidly.

What did girls like in other girls? Was it breasts? Meg liked to put her hand
on my shoulder and comment on how solid I was, so maybe not.

What did I like?

Oh gods, Kitty’s hands. More than anything, her long, narrow, strong fingers
cradling a pen, tapping on a keyboard, curled around the hilt of a katana. I
wanted to put her fingers in my mouth, feel the soft pad and hard nail between
my lips, with my tongue.

But I was supposed to be thinking about Meg. She had good hands too. Not as
slender and powerful as Kitty’s, but square and workmanlike with the nails
bitten close on a few fingers. Would that ragged edge of nail and skin feel
rough on my breast … between my legs …? I trailed my hand lower. I was even
wetter than I thought I’d be. My fingers slipped and I exaggerated the fumbling
movements because Meg wouldn’t know, Kitty wouldn’t know what to do right away.

I was grazing my clit in slippery passes over the whole landscape: inner and
outer lips, playing in and out of my opening. Head back on the piled pillows,
breathing fast and harsh, but quiet so I couldn’t be heard in the hall or the
next room.

It felt so good—this release I was building to fueled by the idea of someone
touching me, someone I very much wanted. I rubbed harder on my clit and came,
fast and shuddering, knowing I wanted more. Warmth spread through me and I let
it carry me higher. I pushed one finger inside, brought my other hand down to
my clit. Another, much bigger climax was gathering in me.

I made myself wait, slow down so it would build more. Light strokes on my clit,
the finger inside thrusting softly. I was so close to that edge, dancing along
it, playing with how far I could go, how long I could stay in this dizzying
place.

The door opened, the thunk of a bag dropping. Kitty said, “Good you’re still ….
oh.”

I grabbed the sheet and jerked it around me. Face blazing hot. Dying inside. I
didn’t want to look at her, but couldn’t help it.

She must’ve come in sideways and shut the door behind her before she looked at
me. Now she was frozen in front of the closed door, her face half shock and
half unreadable. Mouth barely open but eyes very wide.

I wanted to say “I’m sorry” but I couldn’t talk, just sat there, straight up in
bed, sheet held up to my chest like it could erase everything.

The solid, dark colors of her: brown hair loose around her face, blue jeans and
jacket, brown sweater—all went insubstantial, like fog, and she phased through
the floor.

I shot out of bed and pulled on panties and pajama bottoms, jerked down my tank
top, threw on a sweatshirt even though it was warm for fall. I wanted to run
after her, but first I had to go into the bathroom and run very cold water over
my face.

That didn’t help enough. I stripped fast and got in the shower, icy cold. I put
my forehead against the cool tile and wondered if I could teleport back in time
and warn myself. But I hadn’t seen myself, so no, not without screwing up the
timestream. And if I did that, then everyone would know and I’ve to explain to
the professor what I’d been trying to fix and … just no.

I was shivering and I kept seeing Kitty’s face when I closed my eyes, so I
toweled dry and threw my clothes back on.

I found her in the library, of course. She had a book open but wasn’t reading
it. She looked tired but also puzzled or confused.

“Go sleep,” I told her. “I’m going for a run.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s not like there’s anything dangerous out here other than us.”

“Do you really want to run?” she asked.

Not from you, I thought. But from me, yeah.  

“You look tired,” I told her.

“It was a long … thing. You don’t have to go away. It’s fine. I was just
surprised. We need a signal or something.”

“I’ll … I won’t … I can just …”

“It’s not like you’re the only person in the house who does that. I do it too,"
she said, very much not looking at me.
“What, you, oh?”

“Yeah, it’s normal. It’s just that maybe we should figure out how to not, you
know, surprise each other.”

“Sure,” I said and clenched my jaw against any other words because I was
thinking: You do? What do you do? What’s it like? What do you like? What if I …
could I?

“Can’t do the sock on the door or they’ll think whoever’s in there is having
sex with someone and bust our chops for being too young,” she mused.

“That’s what the sock means? Oh hell. Wait, so Kurt … with who?”

“The lady who brings the bread delivery,” Kitty said. “They’re pretty sweet on
each other.”

“No kidding? Okay but Logan?”

“Oh he does that when he’s cleaning his claws so people will leave him alone.”
Kitty went on talking, thinking out loud, “We could leave a note about
something, but like a decoy. You know like ‘Shh, I’m studying.’”

“In the middle of the night? I guess they’d believe that if it’s you. How about
I just put a sigil on the door? Something that glows and makes other people
think twice about coming in.”

“It only glows when we … you know?” Kitty asked.

“I was thinking it should glow all the time and you just turn it if you want
privacy. So there’s a main triangle in it and if it’s pointing right you can
come in and if it’s pointing left, it’s the ‘keep out’ sign. I’ll make it so
you can turn it by touch. It’ll be cool. Or I’ll screw it up and burn our door
down, but I think I’ve got it.”

“Our magic sock,” Kitty said and laughed. “Okay.”

“I still kind of need to go out and run,” I told her.
    
“You could go … if you need to … go upstairs,” she was looking away and
blushing a furious dark red, her hands clasped between her knees.

And I did need to. I was desperate to feel that climax that had been building.
It had vanished when she surprised me but was back now, dangerously close to
the surface of my skin. But I couldn’t just go back upstairs and begin again.
Not without her, and not with her, so … no.

“I’ll feel better if I get outside and move,” I told her. “You look wiped. Go
to bed. I’ll try not to wake you up when I get back.”

“Okay,” she said and pushed up from the table. “It’s really okay.”

“Thanks. Hey, would you phase me out the wall? And keep our window cracked?” I
asked.

The doors and the windows of the first and second floor all had alarms wired
into them. I couldn’t step out the front door without at least a few people
knowing. And I really did not want people to know why I needed a very late
night run tonight. I’d come back by scaling the side of the house and pushing
our window open, which kept my climbing skills sufficient.

“Sure,” Kitty said.

I thought she’d grab my arm, but she took my hand, laced her fingers with mine,
and drew me slowly toward the outer wall of the library. Those fingers. I
started shaking. She must’ve noticed, but she didn’t say anything.

We were phased by the time we got to the wall. I went through and she let go of
my hand. I rubbed my fingers with my other hand, feeling the echo of her there.
Then I sprinted barefoot over the cool, wet grass, heading for the trees.

I went through the dark trunks until I was far enough away that I couldn’t see
a single light from the school. Dropping in the leaves, moss and dirt, I shoved
my hand down the front of my pajama bottoms, under my panties. The hand Kitty
had touched, where her fingers closed around mine.

I barely had to touch myself. No finesse, just the pad of my thumb rocked
between my legs and I was coming so hard I couldn’t see. I fell forward and
braced myself on my other arm, rocking against my hand, coming again, almost
before the first had ended. Hot wetness soaking my panites.

I rolled onto my back on the ground, moisture seeping up through my sweatshirt,
cold compared to all the wet between my legs. My fingers parted my lips,
trailed up, found my clit, tugged and circled. I wanted to come another time,
determined to wring the need out of myself.

My body had no trouble obliging. Kitty’s fingers on mine and I couldn’t try to
not think of her. I couldn’t prentend that when I’d seen her kissing Piotr, I
hadn’t wanted to be him—I had. Desire tore across my nerves, gathered
forcefully in my belly and crotch. I rubbed my hand through the sea of wet in
my panties, caught my painfully hard clit between two fingers, pressed and
jerked until the searing joy exploded through me.

I lay on the ground for a long time after, feeling the coolness, the solid
earth. I dozed for a while. It was almost dawn when I ran back and scaled the
wall, slid in through the window.

Kitty was sound asleep, curled on her side. I changed into fresh pajamas, got
into my bed and looked at her softly peaceful face until I fell asleep again.

#

The door sigil, magic sock thing worked. Of course it drove me out of my mind
the few times I came to our door from the outside and it was pointing left. I
wanted so much to go in.

And it happened at the oddest times. Middle of the day times when I’d have to
come back to the room to change after a workout and pick up something for
class. I began to wonder if she was pranking me. Just pretending when she knew
I’d need to come back to the room. Or maybe it was my comeuppance for her
walking in on me.

Sometimes I had my hand on the doorknob before I could stop myself. I could go
in, pretend I’d misread the sigil. Once, standing there, fighting with myself,
I heard her moan quietly.

I went running a lot. And took some very cold showers.

Once ice formed on the lake, sometimes in the early morning Piotr would break
it at the shore and go swimming. I started joining him. But as any Russian will
tell you, ice baths are good for the body because they make you burn hotter
inside, so I had to stop that.

During that same time, Kitty and I started sleeping in the same bed more often,
but that didn’t seem connected to the other thing. I was still having
nightmares. Kitty would wake me up because I was groaning in my sleep, or
screaming—or I’d wake up with the sword in my hand and she’d calm me down and
get into bed with me.

That night … we’d been sleeping in the same bed most of the week. It was the
middle of winter, chilly on the third floor. I’d had nightmares early in the
week but I’d been sleeping well in Kitty’s warmth.

I was dreaming. In the beginning, I was kissing Meg, the girl at the music
store in the mall. I still went there a lot and hung out with her. There was …
something. Not like Kitty, but something. In the dream we were here in the
mansion, downstairs listening to music and she kissed me. But when I pulled
away, she was Kitty and I wanted to go on kissing her.

I woke breathless, on my side, one hand between my legs.

Kitty was inches away in this narrow bed with me. Was she asleep? I was facing
her, but didn’t dare open my eyes. I forced my ragged breath to slow so that I
could listen to her.

Her breathing was too shallow for sleep. Was she watching me? What had she
seen?

I couldn’t move—I felt so much. My hand pressed between my legs held back as
much sensation as it created. I was frozen, hot and cold chasing under my skin,
not shaking only by force of will.

I didn’t dare move. I’d explode. Or touch her. Or run—teleport away not caring
that I’d go through Limbo in a tank top and underpants.

Kitty shifted fully onto her back. Her arms moved. Adjusting the blankets? But
the cover barely moved. Her breath came faster.

Was she …? Was her hand really down there?

I held still and listened to her breathing. Outside a light wind pressed on the
window, creaked the old tree. On the second floor someone ran water. Across the
mansion a radiator clanked. I separated the strands of Kitty’s breathing from
these other sounds until I was sure about the depth, the speed, the roughness
of each inhale and exhale.

Her shoulder moved. Her arm was definitely angled down, her hand had to be
moving between her legs. A gasp shuddered into my constricted lungs.

She answered with a sigh. Her shoulders relaxed and then tensed in a different
way as her hand moved.

I let my breath out, not quite a word, but the air, thick in my throat, came
out as an awed, “Oh.”

Her breath was fast now, catching on the inhale, like she could be as surprised
by this as I was. I had to be sure. I slid my hand free, jaw clenched against
the need. My fingers found the top of her arm, ghosted down past her elbow.

She paused when I touched her, but as my fingers traced along her forearm, she
began again the rhythmic stroking. I whimpered or moaned, both. She echoed me
hoarsely. We’d spent hundreds of hours in the Danger Room together and I’d
never heard her make a sound like that.

I wanted to press my face into the side of her neck, press my body to hers, but
that would be too much just now. This made sense. Why hide and sneak around
each other? We both needed … well, I needed Kitty, but maybe for her this was
just … I couldn’t think about it.

I rolled onto my back, shoulder to her shoulder, and put my hand back where it
had been when I woke. I listened to every sound she made and joined her
whispered, inarticulate sounds with my own. I felt every move through her
shoulder and the mattress.

I was there before her, hanging at the edge, and I waited as long as I could.
It wasn’t very long. Of all things, the sensuality of my body had never been
locked away from me. A white flash of pleasure washed through me and took away
everything but the sound of Kitty’s panting breath. I caught a second wave
rising in my body, let it burst through me and felt Kitty come with me.

Her body arched and she whispered the words, “Oh. God.” Part of a fast,
shuddering inhalation. She never said the word “God” out loud. It was too close
to the prohibition from saying God’s name—but this was sacred. It was right and
perfect.

Her head rocked back on the pillow, her hair half covered her face. I stole a
glance, enough to see her eyes dazed and happy were gazing back at me.

Blushing, I looked away.

“Roll over,” she whispered. I turned onto my side and she curled along my back,
threw an arm over me. I pressed back into her and slept better than I had in
months.
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