The air in Domino’s private quarters at the X-Mansion was thick with the scent of leather and gun oil, a stark contrast to the chaos of mutant teenagers she was tasked with wrangling daily. Standing before a full-length mirror, Domino adjusted her tight black leather jacket, the material hugging her curves like a second skin. Her reflection stared back, sharp and unyielding, as she muttered under her breath, “Teaching hormonal mutant brats is like herding feral cats. One wrong move, and I’m cleaning up a disaster bigger than a nuclear meltdown.”
Her luck-based powers usually kept her one step ahead of trouble, but even they couldn’t predict the sudden *clink* of metal against glass that shattered the quiet. Her head snapped toward the window, eyes narrowing to slits as her hand instinctively shot to the sleek handgun resting on her dresser. Her fingers curled around the grip, every muscle in her body tensing for a fight. “Who’s got a death wish now?” she growled under her breath.
Before she could fully draw the weapon, the window slid open with an unnerving ease, and in swaggered Hank Williams, the cocky clone of Magneto and self-proclaimed heartthrob of the mansion. His smirk was as infuriating as ever, and with a lazy flick of his wrist, he used his magnetic powers to yank the gun from her hand. It flew across the room, landing neatly on her bed with a soft *thud*. “Really, Dom? A gun? For me?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mock offense as he leaned casually against the window frame, his dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly sexy.
Domino’s jaw clenched, her hands slamming onto her hips as she leveled him with a glare that could melt steel. “You’re lucky I didn’t blow a hole through that pretty little head of yours, Hank. Sneaking in here like some punk? I don’t care if you’re Magneto’s clone or the damn king of Genosha—next time, I won’t hesitate.”
Hank chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly smooth, as he pushed off the frame and took a step closer. “Come on, babe. Even if you pulled the trigger, I’d stop the bullet mid-air. You know I’ve got the skills.” His tone was all arrogance, his hazel eyes glinting with overconfidence.
Domino rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of her head. “Skills? Please. Your powers are rustier than a junkyard car. You’d probably magnetize your own ass to the wall before you stopped a bullet. Try me, kid.” Her voice was a whip, sharp and cutting, as she held her ground, her posture radiating authority.
He grinned, undeterred, and crossed his arms, mirroring her stance. “Feisty today, aren’t we? What’s got you so wound up, teach?”
Her piercing gaze pinned him in place, her tone icy. “What I wanna know is why you’re sneaking into my room like some hormonal cat burglar. You’ve got ten seconds to explain before I toss you out that window—head first.”
Hank’s smirk softened into something more suggestive, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur as he took another step toward her. “I meant what I said two days ago, Dom. I’m into you. Thought I’d swing by and… remind you.”
Domino scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest, emphasizing the curve of her leather-clad torso. “Oh, please. I saw you batting those lashes at half the girls in the training room yesterday. You’re a walking cliché of a player, Hank. Spare me the sweet talk—I’m not buying what you’re selling.”
He stepped closer still, his expression shifting to something almost earnest, though that damn charm still clung to every word. “Those girls? They’re nothing. I turned ‘em all down flat. My eyes are only on you, Domino. Have been since the moment I saw you kick ass in the Danger Room.”
“Liar,” she shot back, her voice sharp as a blade, though her pulse quickened at his proximity. She hated how he could get under her skin like this.
Hank’s eyes gleamed with a playful challenge as he closed the distance between them, his voice a velvet dare. “If you think I’m lying, feel my heartbeat. Go on. Prove I’m not telling the truth.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, irritation warring with curiosity. Finally, with a huff, she stepped forward and pressed her palm against his chest, her fingers splaying over the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. His heartbeat was steady, strong, and infuriatingly honest. For a split second, her face softened, a flicker of something vulnerable breaking through her iron facade before she masked it with a glare. “Fine. Maybe you’re not lying. Doesn’t change a damn thing.”
She pushed him back with a firm finger to his chest, her tone commanding, brooking no argument. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hank. I’m your teacher. You’re my student. Nothing—and I mean *nothing*—can happen between us. Got it?”
His smirk returned, wider and more infuriating than ever, as he tilted his head and dropped his voice to a teasing whisper. “Oh, come on, Dom. You weren’t saying that two days ago when you were calling me ‘Big Daddy’ in the heat of the moment. Pretty sure you loved every second of it.”
Her cheeks flushed a furious shade of red, but she snapped out of it just as quickly, her eyes blazing as she pointed to the window. “Get your ass to class before I mark you absent, Williams. I’m not playing games with you. Out. Now.”
Hank raised his hands in mock surrender, though the smugness never left his face. “Alright, alright. I’m going. But you can’t deny there’s something here, teach. Sooner or later, you’re gonna stop fighting it.” With a final wink, he backed toward the window, his magnetic powers sliding it open as he slipped out with the grace of a predator.
Domino stood there, her breath a little too fast, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Damn him,” she muttered, her voice a mix of exasperation and something hotter, something she refused to name. She turned back to the mirror, catching the faint flush still lingering on her cheeks. “Get it together, Dom. He’s just a kid with a silver tongue. Nothing more.”
But as she adjusted her jacket one last time, she couldn’t shake the memory of his heartbeat under her fingertips—or the way her own had raced in response.
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