Distraction

Posted on Sun Mar 2nd, 2025 @ 2:26am by Darian Elliott & Angela Williams

2,683 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: December 4th, 1990

Darian was kicked back on a chaise longue with one foot up on the wall, listening to Public Enemy on his walkman and feeling bored as hell otherwise. There wasn't much going on in the main hall of the mansion. People came and went with the same bored expressions on their faces, but Darian's headphones kept him from noticing or caring about whatever they might've said. Something had Angela up in a tizzy, though. She'd run from one end of the hall to another, and was now coming back from the direction of Professor Xavier's office.

"Ay, sweet thang," Darian called out, pulling his headphones down around his neck. He flashed her a mischievous grin. "You get sent to the principal's office or sumthin'?"

Angela paused to look at Darian. Normally she would respond with a witty come back or tease the Casanova wannabe with her own womanly charm. She really wasn't in the mood for banter. "Or something. I'm not the one in trouble. I'm not even sure that someone else is in trouble." She didn't know how to explain much less what it was that was bothering her.

Darian chuckled, shaking his head as he sat up a little, draping his arms over the back of the chaise like a king on his throne. "Man, why you got that long-ass face, girl? What, the Professor tell you ya GPA droppin'? You ain't never this shook over nothin'."

He stretched, popping his neck before flashing her a grin, all smooth confidence and bad-boy charm. "Ayo, real talk, was it that weird-ass wolf howlin' earlier? Shit was mad creepy. And lemme tell you, NYC ain't got no wolves. We got bangers, hustlers, OGs like me, but wolves?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah. Ain't no damn wolves in the five boroughs unless they rockin' Timbs and slangin' dime bags."

Darian's grin turned suggestive as he let his eyes roam her face, reading the tension there. He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to that slow, syrupy smoothness he used when he was feeling extra charming. "Whatever gotchu' all twisted up, you know I got ways to make a pretty lil' thing like you feel better."

Angela stopped and looked at Darian. Perhaps a distraction was what she needed. "Okay. Let's see what you got."

Darian's smirk deepened as he leaned in just enough to lower his voice, his words warm and teasing. "Oh, so now you tryna' see what I got? Girl, you already know I got the goods." His fingers drummed lightly on the back of the chaise as he tilted his head, considering.

"Aight, we could hit the stacks—nobody ever goes in the library's back aisles 'round this time." He waggled his eyebrows. "Or, if you tryna' be real bold, there's that a reading room just up around the corner. Dark, quiet... lots of shelves to press up against."

The tension in her shoulders, the way her hands curled slightly at her sides—she wasn't in the mood for games.

Darian exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw before switching gears. "Aight, aight. No freaky business. How 'bout we go play in the snow instead?" He jerked his chin toward the window, where fresh powder was piling up outside. "Ain't nobody out there right now. Just you, me, and a whole lotta white."

Angela looked at the fresh snow that covered the grounds and was still falling from the sky. Her expression softened. Despite his devil may care demeanor. He was generally a decent guy who was making an effort. She nodded. "I'll get my jacket and gloves." She looked at the big double doors that were the main entrance for the mansion. "Meet you on the front steps in five." She turned to the stairs leading to the Girls Dormitory and trotted off.

Darian watched Angela go, his eyes shamelessly tracking the sway of her hips as she ascended the stairs. He let out a low whistle under his breath, shaking his head with a lopsided grin. "Mmm, girl act like she don't know what she got back there," he muttered to himself before turning on his heel and heading to grab his own coat.

---

Outside on the portico, the cold bit through his hoodie as he paced back and forth while waiting for Angela. The snow crunched under his Timberlands, and his breath curled in the air as he muttered to himself, running through his greatest hits.

"Ayo, ma, you ever seen a brother make a snow angel look this good?" He snorted at himself, shaking his head. "Nah, too corny."

He tried again, flexing his shoulders like he was hyping himself up. "Damn, baby, it's cold out here. You think if I wrap my arms around you real tight, we could, I dunno, warm it up?" He let out a chuckle. "Okay, okay, better. But gotta' make it smoother."

Darian tilted his head, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he considered. "Angela, you ever had a man carve your name in the snow with his bare hands?" He smirked, then immediately winced. "Wait, that sound too much like I’m tryna’ piss it out—nah, scratch that, scratch that."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands together as he glanced at the closed doors. Angela was due any second. "Shit, man, why I even stress it? She already came out here with me. That's gotta' mean somethin'."

Darian blew into his hands, then straightened up when he heard the soft click of the doors opening. Showtime.

Angela stepped out clad in a wool cap, down jacket and gloves she had on a pair of fur lined winter boots. She joined Darian at the top of the steps. "What do you want to do?"

Darian grinned as soon as Angela stepped outside, but instead of answering right away, he took a step back and then dramatically threw himself into the snow with a loud oof, arms and legs already moving.

"Aight, first things first—lemme see your best snow angel," he challenged, grinning up at her. "C'mon, girl, don't be shy. I need to know if you got the skills or if I'm dealin' with an amateur out here."

His breath puffed in the cold as he kept at it, carving out the perfect wings. "See, it's all about the rhythm—fluid motion, no hesitation!"

Angela smiled and dove into the snow next to Darian. She waved her arms and legs and proceeded to make her own snow angel.

Darian propped himself up on one elbow, brushing stray snowflakes off his hoodie as he smirked over at Angela. The crisp air made his breath visible between them, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Well, well, look at that," he mused, tilting his head toward the snowy impressions they'd just made. "Looks like our snow angels are touchin'."

He let the words hang in the air for a beat, his grin turning sly. "Getta' load of that, ma! Destiny, maybe?" He dragged a finger through the snow between them, drawing a lazy line. "Or just real convenient placement?" His gaze flicked up to hers, playful but edged. "Either way, I ain't mad at it."

Angela rolled her eyes before shaking her head. "You are not half the player you pretend to be."

Darian's smirk deepened, his breath curling in the cold air. "Aw yeah?" he drawled, shifting onto his side, propping himself up on one arm.

Before Angela could answer, he leaned in, quick as a flash, and stole a feather-light peck on her cheek. A hit-and-run, smooth and effortless, like he’d just scored a point in a game only he knew they were playing. "How you like me now?"

Angela, despite being in winter clothes, performed a kippup and pounced on Darian. Her own breath visible in the cold. "You look a little cold. Maybe I should give you something to warm you up." She then bent down and gave him a kiss he would not soon forget.

Darian barely had time to react before Angela was on him, her body pressing him down into the snow with a sudden, unexpected intensity. His breath hitched—half in surprise, half in something else entirely—as she bent down and captured his lips with a kiss that sent heat rolling through him like a furnace against the winter cold.

"Mmm...damn, girl..." he murmured between kisses, his usual swagger momentarily slipping into something rawer, needier. His hands found their way to her waist, his fingers gripping the fabric of her coat like he was holding onto something precious. "Straight-up felony the way you got me right now."

He let out a low, husky chuckle before flipping their positions in one fluid motion, rolling her beneath him in the snow. His grin was downright wicked now, his breath coming in short, heated puffs. "Ain't cold no mo', Angie. We 'bout to burn it down up in here."

Angela gave a slight shake of her head. She wasn't about to admit it, but feeling Darian's body pressed against hers was exhilarating. She just wasn't ready to throw caution to the wind just yet. "Sometimes you talk too much." She pulled him down into another kiss.

Darian let out a deep, satisfied chuckle, his lips curling against hers in a grin that he couldn’t quite suppress. His kisses were messy, eager, full of heat and unpolished bravado, like a man who had won the lottery but had no idea how to spend the money. He wasn't smooth, not really, but he made up for it in sheer enthusiasm, in the way his hands splayed over her hip flexors, testing to see their willingness to spread into a more satisfying position. More force went into his kiss, probing, an unspoken request.

Angela enjoyed the kisses despite Darian's obvious lack of experience. He was passionate and very eager. Part of her did want more too, just not now and certainly not here in the snow in front of the mansion for anyone looking out a window to see. She gently pressed him away. "Time for a break. It's getting cold out here."

Darian let out an exaggerated sigh, his breath curling in the cold air as he flopped onto his back in the snow. "Girl, you killin’ me," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face before turning his head to smirk at her. "Aight, aight. Break time."

He pushed himself up and reached for her hand, pulling her easily to her feet. As he dusted the snow off his hoodie, he shot her a sideways glance, his grin creeping back. "So what’s the move then? We go inside, get all cozy under a blanket by the fireplace… or you gon' make me go take a minute and pound one out?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Angela gave Darian a little smile and playful shove. "Hit the showers. You may get lucky some day, but that day isn't today."

Darian groaned dramatically, flopping back into the snow like he'd just been mortally wounded. "Damn, girl, you straight-up killing me," he whined, dragging his hands down his face. "Got me all hot n’ bothered, makin’ me think I’m ‘bout to hit the jackpot, then snatchin’ it away. That ain't right, Angie. That ain't right at all."

His smirk was back, lazy and hopeful, as he scooted just a little closer. "You sure you ain't got nothin’ for me, ma? Not even a lil’ somethin’-somethin’ to hold me over ‘til my time finally comes?"

Sliding up in her space , Darian fixee her with a pleading look that was half serious, half pure theatrics. "C'mon, just a little bittle? I ain't even askin’ for the whole thing..." He held his fingers against her cheek and slowly tickled them down her neck. "Maybe we round second, cruise past third real slow, keep it real respectable—no need to steal home just yet, ya mean?"

Angela was about to shake her head and shut Darian down, hard. She softened her expression and took a step back. "You want a little something." Her tone made it clear she wasn't asking a question. "Okay, follow me." She turned and marched into the school and headed for one of the study areas used for classes and study groups. When they entered she locked the door and pressed him against the wall. She ran a hand down his chest. "You are going to keep your hands to yourself. Understood?"

"Yeah, ma..." Darian nodded up and down like being dressed down by a schoolmarm, which wasn't far away from what he was hoping would happen. "Cuff me if you wanna," he said with a smirk, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "I won't fight'chu."

"That won't be necessary." Angela’s hands traveled down Darian's hoodie, but didn't stop there. One hand continued the decent to the crotch of his pants as the other she raised to her lips and made a shushing gesture. She then began to rub the crotch of his pants as she locked eyes with him.

Darian had been playing it cool—real cool—throwing out his usual swagger, flashing that cocky grin, acting like he had it all under control. But then Angela flipped the script on him. His bravado cracked like thin ice. His mouth opened, but all that came out was a pathetic, breathless whimper. He actually whimpered.

"P-please," he rasped, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "Keep goin', baby... don't stop now."

He was done for, and they both knew it.

"Shhhh." She put a finger on his lips for only a moment before grabbing his hoodie and pulling him down into a deep kiss. Her rubbing grew faster and she pressed harder. She could feel the bulge in his pants beginning to throb.

Darian barely had time to process what was happening before his whole body betrayed him. One second, he was drowning in Angela's kiss, lost in the warmth of her lips and the way she had him completely, utterly at her mercy. The next—

SCHLNK!

A dozen razor-sharp quills shot out from his arms, back, and shoulders, punching through his hoodie with a series of sickening pops. A few embedded themselves in the door behind him with a heavy thunk. Angela barely managed to pull back in time, but one of the quills had shot out from his pelvis and nicked her hand before embedding itself in the wall behind her.

Darian recoiled like he'd been electrocuted, eyes wide in pure horror. "Ah, shit! No, no, no, no, no—!"

More spikes. Bigger spikes. His body bristled like a damn porcupine going DEFCON 1. He stumbled backward, arms stiff at his sides, trying not to poke himself—or worse, her—with his own damn mutation.

"God—damn it—Angela—I swear—this ain't what it looks like!" he sputtered, his voice cracking between panic and mortification. "I mean, okay, it is what it looks like, but I ain't mean for it to happen!"

Groaning and dragging a hand down his face, Darian had to wince as his own quills scraped his palm. "Oh, come on!" He threw his hands up and let out an epic blue streak, cursing everything from his own DNA to whatever cruel cosmic force decided this moment was the perfect time for his body to wild out.

Darian realized was no salvaging the situation, so he turned on his heel and awkwardly waddled toward the door, his whole body stiff with quills sticking out in every direction. "Man, I need a damn minute," he muttered, his head hanging in shame as he nudged the door open with his foot to avoid jabbing himself. "I'll, uh... I'll hit you on the flip side when I ain't built like a damn cactus..."

Angela was surprised by what occurred. She had been able to pull her hand back in time from being impaled, only receiving a tiny nick. Her expression was more of concern as she watched him retreat out the door.

 

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