1962 - world domination without fucking is world domination not worth having

[hellishfire]

[It had been awhile since Shaw was in this consistent of a good mood for so many consecutive days. Not that he considers himself a dour man by any stretch of the imagination; he likes to attribute at least part of his resilience to his ability to roll with the punches and salute the whims of fate with both middle fingers held high. Still, he vastly prefers to get his way rather than mold an untenable situation to his advantage and he has never, ever gotten his way quite like he has after Cuba.

It's really fucking good to be king.]

Genosha is just the start, of course. An impressive start but one that's barely begun. Just think of what we can do as our influences grow and more brothers and sisters flock to our cause.

[He's never been one for pacing or any excessive movement that didn't have an exact cause and purpose. While always a bit... theatrical, Shaw does tend to be significantly less so when solely in Emma's presence. She's already been wooed to his side after all and there's no sense in trying to influence a telepath period, much less with carefully plotted (and wonderfully cathartic, if he's honest about it) melodramatics. Instead, he's standing at the impressive window of his impressive office looking down at his impressive island with a smirk that could out-Cheshire any kitty any day.]

The rest of the world hasn't even noticed. Never thought a nuclear holocaust would be something to be grateful about, but, well. [shrug] Here we are. Do you think - [He turns to Emma eagerly, all boyish excitement in his face.] This has to affect the birth rate of mutants all across the globe. Mutants strong enough to survive the radiation, breeding with more mutants down the road for even stronger children. It's glorious. And I didn't even plan this part!

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[icewhite]

[ Part of her truly loves Shaw being in a good mood. He's freely considerate of her when he is, despite being so entirely wrapped up in himself all she has to do is lean in to him and bat her pretty blue eyes and she can get whatever she wants, so long as she says please the way he likes. She knows well what he likes, and he, just as she does, enjoys power. He enjoys the control, enjoys the thrill of having everything beneath his fingertips.

Honestly, she'd thought he'd never be able to pull it off. Not without her by his side. But then he was there, of course, grinning that serpentine smile. "Emma, you wouldn't believe what's happened."

You never want to say that to a telepath. ]

It's phenomenal, dear. [ She's nursing a martini, ice-cold and only just shaken, her heels slipping off in her hands as she curls her legs beneath her. She watches him closely, watches the way in which he smiles. If she'd been more fond of him, she'd have thought it was cute.

She thinks it's cute nonetheless.

He speaks as if he's explaining such a grandiose, complicated plan. One of which Emma really needs no introduction, doesn't even particularly care to listen. She knows it backwards and forwards, practically fine-tuned the more complicated parts of his plan, and it's terribly cute that he's so shocked that it worked. It would have gone off better, had she been around, but that particular bitterness has already reared it's ugly head; she doesn't need to rehash it at the moment. Perhaps when she needs a new purse. ]

Of course, darling. Of course you didn't. [ Because she did. She knew fully well, nuclear radiation would force humanity to adapt faster in order to carry their species. Mutants in close proximity, a la Genosha, would be able to repopulate quicker, with a much higher rate of producing a mutant. She smiles at him, almost condescending in the face of his boyish excitement and wide grin on his lips. ] I'm so proud of you.

[hellishfire]

[When the world is going his way he is an utter delight to be around, generous in both spirit and material wealth. And while he does try to maintain at least a semblance of decorum, it wouldn't be too far off the mark to call him absolutely drunk with power in times like these. Everything is possible because he willed it so. (And Emma helped. A little.)

He really hopes Emma's not too too scalded over that little incident earlier. Half the reason why he keeps her around is because this whole world domination thing isn't nearly as much fun without someone to gloat with and/or at. The other half is, of course, attributed to her utterly vast tracks of land. And he guesses she's amazingly powerful in her own right. Xavier might be strong, but can he shift into a pure diamond form? Nope. Just his Emma.]

You know, I don't even think for a moment that we're actually flying under the radar. Not that all our defense systems and fancy cloaking devices aren't incredible. [a dismissive gesture] But we don't even need to hide right now because I guarantee you the rest of the world doesn't give a single shit about us. It's beautiful. Thanks to our guests all of mutantkind had its hand collectively shown to the world and the world's too busy tearing itself apart to care.

[Not that Shaw's emotions are particularly lighthearted or pure, but seeing him genuinely happy - despite the horrific cause of that happiness - would probably be enough to surprise anyone else in the world besides Emma. Of course, Emma's seen him at his highs and lows and knows him better than anyone else, perhaps save the Lehnsherr boy. (At least, they both know Shaw in terribly different ways.)

And it worked. The fruition of a lifetime of planning and scheming and terrorizing government and military officials and generally ruining the lives of everyone around him had worked. And beautifully, if he does say so himself.

He doesn't even care about the condescension in Emma's smile. Quickly, he strides over to the couch and extends his hand.] Come on, we're celebrating, up up up. I'll even let you pick the song.

[icewhite]

[ He's lucky she's forgiving, or at least that she's willing to shelf the things that she's angry at him for. It doesn't take long for the little girl - Angel, her name is - to be brought right back down to the dregs where she belongs, and so she can't be too angry that he's simply been too busy to grant her her freedom. She knows the plan was time sensitive.

It doesn't mean she can't take it out on him, later, when they're behind closed doors, where she can see her aggravation and aggression painted out in bruises on his skin as she runs a white leather over his skin. She's got her own ways of dealing with things. ] There's no need to hide anymore, you're correct in that. The radiation of the United States and Russia is already starting to weed out the weak from the strong. [ she inspects her nails a moment and looks at him. ] Eventually, we'll need to grow. There's plenty of uncharted space on the island. We'll need to go recruiting soon.

[ She needs company, other than Charles Xavier and the Sunshine Gang. She needs pretty men and women to look at, new lovelies to manipulate into their cause.

It is somewhat charming to see him so pleased, so happy that everything is going so well for him. Part of her wants to continually ask what he expected from the situation - after all, they had succeeded. Did he expect anything less from them? Despite her own rather realistic view, she smiles once he offers his hand and takes it in kind, twirling in his arms over to the record player in the corner, turning on a bit of jazz, the strap on her little white dress sliding down her shoulder. ]

And just how do you want to celebrate, hm?

[hellishfire]

[Angel, Angel... you know that name rings a bell but he can't quite - oh yes! The dead one. Well. You know. Time moves on, plans change, and Emma knows she was always his favorite, doesn't she? All said and done he'd rather have her at his side in this brave new world. She's actually capable, for one thing. No need to worry about how she'll defend herself or if she needs someone watching over her shoulder to execute her part of the plan. Emma Frost is flawless in every sense of the world and Shaw loves that about her.

And he is so looking forward to that, dear. You know it's part of why he keeps her around. It's always a delight to see her like that, haughty and domineering like the queen she is.] Yes, growth, of course. I've already sent Azazel scouting in the former United States. [He takes a deep breath and smiles.] Former United States. Now there's a phrase you don't hear everyday. Except, I suppose, now it is.

[He's happy but not surprised. There's a different. He's always happy when he gets his way, though this time there is something particularly magnificent about the circumstances. He, in all intents and purposes, is absolutely winning at life and he enjoys it so terribly much. Shaw smiles as Emma takes his hand, eyes her gorgeously suggestive bare shoulder, and sweeps her up into an easy dance.]

Well, you know me, I'm a big fan of tradition. A nice little dance number, booze until we can't see straight, then delicious, headboard banging sex until I pass out.

[icewhite]

[ The dead one indeed. Emma has always prided herself on being able to hold her own, even from a terribly young age. She's stronger than most would think, particularly at first sight, and indeed, as Shaw would think, she's as flawless as perfect diamond. She's terribly intelligent as well, something she doesn't mind acknowledging, despite however she loves it whenever so many underestimate exactly, exactly what she can do.

She loves it, too. Loves the way he screams and moans, loves the way she can wreck him in every possible formation there could possibly be. She plays the role of Queen all too well. ]

Marvelous. Though I'm sure you'll be searching yourself sometime soon. Or sending me off. Please, do try to make it somewhere a bit more hospitable than Russia, will you?

[ Whenever he takes her in his hands, whenever he spins her in time to the easy-going jazz coming from the record player, she can't help but smile, delighted. He rather loves romancing her, in somewhat of an old-fashioned way, and she slides against him easily, dancing right against him and twirling in his arms. ]

Lovely. Should I get us a bottle of good champagne? [ She rather likes that idea -- it's been too long. A day feels too long without being able to have him, being able to tear out those moans from his throat like they were made for her. Shaw is one of the few she doesn't mind actually having sex with, one of the few she doesn't just simply cast an image of herself only to sit idly by and boredly drink champagne waiting for the gentleman to finish. She likes him.

It's a terrible thing, liking someone like Shaw. ]

[hellishfire]

[Shaw walks a terribly thin line between underestimating Emma just like everyone else and being incredibly aware and appreciative of what a marvel she truly is. Really, he's no longer surprised that she surprises him with her cleverness and efficiency, nor does he refrain from admiring her truly impressive vengeance and wrath when she finally unleashes it. Of course, all that said he still treats her like a pretty little thing nine times out of ten, lovely furnishings that he's rather fond of but objects nonetheless.

That one time out of ten though, on his knees or belly (or, on one memorable night, suspended from the ceiling) he is more than willing, desperate even, to worship her exactly the way she deserves to be.]

Oh I don't think we'll be looking to Russia for anything anytime soon. The beauty of MAD, of course, is that we get to watch two superpowers destroy each other and pick up the pieces once the dust has settled. No, I'm thinking somewhere a bit further west. What are your feelings about London, Paris? Perhaps Nice or Milan?

[There's something about the classics and something about Emma. He's never pretended to be a normal man (well, beyond passing as necessary when he was still biding his time, and even then it was less pretending and more letting others make assumptions he never quite got around to correcting). But Emma makes him want to buy a dozen red roses and pour crystal-cold wine while licking up every inch of her gorgeous leather stiletto boots.]

Mm, it's like you read my mind. You always know exactly what I want. [As though that joke weren't overplayed years ago, as though Shaw weren't as predictable as the rise and fall of the sun. He leads the dance but his eyes are trained on her, voice light and teasing but hinting at something more. It's not that he's always thinking of her fucking him, he's just... always ready for the opportunity. It's like a drug, he discovered so very long ago. He has needs that only she can meet. She puts up with him. It's the closest thing to romance either of them are going to get.]

[icewhite]

[ She rather finds she doesn't mind being objectified, as long as it gives her the upper hand, and it does so often with Shaw that she doesn't mind in the slightest. She's perfectly fine being his White Queen, his right-hand woman, and often the intelligence behind his cruelty and resources.

Emma rather enjoys, however, when he truly worships her. When she can trust him to shine her boots with his tongue, when she can trust that he'll spend hours just laving over her body, tonguing every inch she allows. She loves the way he spoils her with wine and Ella Fitzgerald and Edith Piaf. She adores him, in some rather strange way that she doesn't quite understand nor desires to understand. ]

It was terribly drab when I visited. Never mind getting captured, no thanks to your little pet metalbender and telepath. [ She smiles, knowing she'll have a chance to see them get a rather worthy treatment for what they'd done in Russia, and beyond that entirely. ] Paris, perhaps, or Milan. Either sounds nice. London, too, for that matter.

[ She giggles, something high-pitched and not terribly genuine at the overplayed and terribly boring joke, wrapping his hands around her body, the straps of her dress falling easily over her arms as she teases against him. She's a terrible tease, constant in how she moves, and her eyes follow him as she pulls back, as she slowly undresses to the music, disappearing from the common room into the bedroom. It doesn't take long for the demure little princess act to fall away, before she's slid back on the bed and watches him with those ice blue eyes. ]

I do always know what you want. I don't have to be a mind reader to read you, darling. [ her voice is a seductive purr, blonde curls cascading behind her shoulders, her dress a dainty little thing to be tossed at him. ] Come here.

[hellishfire]

[Emma should feel special; anyone else who Shaw thought had the upper hand over him would surely be utterly and completely destroyed at some point or another. Brutally and gleefully so. Emma, though... Shaw finds that he doesn't quite mind knowing that she holds more cards than he, at times. It keeps things fun, exciting. And if not wanting to kill someone for being more powerful than you isn't love, then Shaw's pretty sure love is fucking stupid anyway.

Emma is a goddess as far as Shaw's concerned, a beautiful, shining example of what evolution at its finest can create. She is flawless, haughty, powerful, scheming, and ridiculously attractive in pure white leather. She's the only one allowed to see him at his most vulnerable and live to tell about it. She's the only one allowed to see him vulnerable, period. Partially because she's the only one who's made him realize that there's a good deal of fun to be had in said vulnerability, if you do it right.]

Now Emma, we've talked about holding grudges. Besides. Neither Magneto nor the professor will ever be in a position to harm a single hair on your beautiful head ever again. [And he will let her, gladly. He'll pour himself a drink, sit back, and watch Emma have at it. Hell, he'll cheer her on.] Let's send you on a Mediterranean tour, then. The southern parts of Europe should still be getting plenty of sunlight.

[He adores all of her, the genuine parts and the fake parts and every part in between. Hands slide over her bare shoulders before she pulls away and draws him with her with only her gaze. He thinks in this moment that he'd follow her anywhere, so long as she'd keep looking at him like that. He's not stupid enough to think he's the only one who gets her glances or naive enough to care either way; he is smart enough to know it's a fucking blessing when Emma Frost takes you to bed. He leans against the wall for a moment, taking in every inch of her as a lascivious smile slides across his face.]

And that is part of why I love having you at my side. [He catches the dress and carefully folds it over the back of a chair; she'd given him enough grief before in letting her things get wrinkled. He steps forward and starts loosening his tie.]

[icewhite]

[ They have their own version of whatever such chemical imbalances might be. Their relationship is one that couldn't be quantified, classified as anything truly romantic - the word 'love' has ever so rarely left Emma's lips when it wasn't in regard to a pair of expensive shoes or a mink coat. She doesn't love Sebastian, she simply tolerates him moreso than most anyone else, and still desires him even after all of the horrible, terrible things he's done. Not that Emma finds such things distasteful.

She simply ignores it, most of the time, unless it's someone who deserves it. Then she watches with a gleeful eye, offers suggestions. She rather enjoys however whenever Shaw allows her to be at the top of the food chain; when Shaw gives over his hard-won control so that she can take him down a few notches, humiliate him until he's broken and begging to worship her entirely. ]

It's not a grudge, Sebastian. It's an irritation. A grudge would imply that I'm holding something against them, which is hardly the case. [ She flashes a winning smile, beaming at him. ] Greece is lovely this time of year, but I imagine you won't be going with me, will you? A shame, dear.

[ Dark lashes bat at him once he folds her dress and hangs it on the back of the chair, one arm coming up to rest behind her head, her legs spreading coyly as she presses her feet flat against the mattress. She's still got her stockings and heels on.

She rather likes fucking in high heels. ] You love having me any way you can get me, dear. [ she coos at him, gently, moving her finger in a come hither motion for him to come closer, not willing to wait for him to undo his tie. besides. she could use that. ]