i wanna fuck you like an animal/i wanna feel you from the inside/i wanna fuck you like an animal/my whole existence is fraud/you get me closer to God
Rogue was getting rather uncomfortable with the whole situation, even though Logan - no, she corrected herself, Wolverine - hadn't made a move for what felt like ages... though it was probably more like five minutes. He was just squatting there, looking at her with those shrewd animal eyes, licking the sweat and blood from his hands, and maybe... maybe she could get through if she were just a bit more gentle. Yelling and shoving seemed to make him angry, but... this had to stop, and he really wasn't much better than a puppy at the moment. A vicious puppy. Okay, a horny, sweaty, growling wolf. But he wasn't really Logan, and she had to work with that. She slid down the wall a bit, keeping her thighs pressed tightly together, and turned sideways to reach a timid hand out toward him.
Wolverine raised a querying eyebrow. She was lowering herself to his level. Not trying to dominate. Good. And although she was guarding her sex rather jealously, she was inviting him to come closer. Hmm. He leaned forward onto his fingertips and advanced very slowly, muddled thoughts tumbling all over each other amidst the blur of hormones. If his physical abilities didn't appeal to her, and she wasn't looking for a warrior-mate, then... Offspring. That had to be it. Maybe she was afraid he was too fierce to be trusted around their offspring - she needed to know he could be gentle as well as protective. It was a long shot, but definitely worth a try, especially when she was actually trying to get him to come closer.
He lowered his shoulders a bit, sinking closer to the ground, and crept toward her; he refused to drop his eyes, though - he was being gentle, not submissive. Cautiously, he raised his head up enough to sniff her extended fingertips, then her palm, and he was pressing his face into her hand, purring softly. She seemed to like it - she wasn't pushing him away, at any rate - so he came closer, brushing her inner arm with his nose, inhaling deeply. Ohhh, God, she smelled good.
Rogue stroked his hair gently, which he seemed to like - he wasn't growling at her, at any rate - so she kept it up, smoothing his rumpled whiskers, trailing her fingertips over his ear. She slid her hand down over the back of his neck, and he came still closer, his face nestling into the crook of her elbow; he gave her bicep the tiniest of licks, which surprised her.
She jumped. Shit. Too much? He hadn't been able to resist - she just smelled so fucking luscious, and the little strip of skin below the edge of her sleeve was right there, all shining and sweaty and... mmmm. He purred a little louder and inhaled along her shoulder, up to her neck. She shivered and pressed a hand to his chest, not exactly pushing, but trying to keep him from getting any closer. Temperamental little thing. Liked her mate to move slow and sure. He chuckle-purred a little laugh into her ear and she trembled, finally bringing her other hand up to press lightly at his shoulder.
"Logan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Logan, we... we can't, Ah..."
She was giving in. Her voice wasn't nearly so steady, her protests more halfhearted than anything - probably for show. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, away from the wall, purring loudly to keep her calm, and licked her throat; it would've been much easier without the stupid collar around her neck, but the red flashing light told him it was probably something best left alone. He got his other arm around her, drew her closer, his cock pressing against her bare thigh, and oh fuck, he was hard. He wanted her so much he was starting to tremble, every muscle in his body twitching as he struggled to control himself. He couldn't screw this up now - she was warm and soft and becoming more pliable, her fear vanishing as he stroked and soothed and coerced.
He wasn't the only one trembling - Rogue's entire body was thrumming, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, and she was... not scared. Not angry. Not disgusted. Logan was a man, no matter how he happened to be thinking at the time, and although the man that held her so gently in his arms was most certainly the feral Wolverine feared the world over... he was still Logan. She thought of her words to him, "This ain't you," and as his tongue licked slowly up the side of her neck, hot and wet over the spot where her pulse pounded wildly, she realized how wrong she'd been. Feral, yes. Deadly, yes. The Wolverine? Most certainly. But absolutely, undeniably, definitely Logan. This man was restrained violence, gentle savagery... and oh lordy, she couldn't think of any more poetic terms for his duality while his cock was pressed up against her like that. And certainly not when he was nibbling her ear. "Logan," she gasped, and he made a little growling noise.
He let his hands roam a bit, since she wasn't fighting him, and was immensely pleased to notice the sweet, tangy scent of her arousal. Thank fucking God. He was rather proud of himself for figuring her out - slow and sure, soft and gentle. He hooked the fingertips of one hand under the hem of her gown, tugging it up, moving with painstaking slowness; she not only allowed it, but even lifted her butt up off the floor a bit so he could pull the clinging cloth up properly. Well.
The cold metal floor was a bit of a shock - but only until his hand cupped her buttock, warming it and protecting it from the chill of the tile. And oh, this powerful man was so gentle, trailing his free hand up and down her spine until she was quivering and goosebumped, his mouth brushing kisses over her neck; and when she felt the heat of his breath moving down the paper-thin front of her gown, she didn't bother to stop him.
He licked one of her hard nipples through the wet cotton, closed his mouth over it, and was thrilled when she arched her back, pushing closer to him, and let out a little moan. The scent of her arousal was getting stronger, the remnants of her fear nearly gone; he had finally proven himself, she had chosen him as her mate, and what a fucking rush. He knew one thing - the gown had to go. It was a cumbersome barrier, and although it looked nice on her, all soaking wet and see-through like that, it was a barrier, and his patience was just about shot. So he slid one claw out of his right hand, very slowly, making sure not to spook her, and brought it up to her front. She stiffened for a moment, but he gave her a smile and a reassuring purr, and she relaxed, looking somewhat amused and bewildered. Allowed to proceed, he slid the blade under her garment, edge up and away from her tender skin, and sliced through the cotton easily.
She shuddered and lay back, which he took as an offering, and he accepted it readily; he retracted the claw, grasped the halves of her ruined gown with both hands, and simply ripped them off of her. He swept down to lick her newly-bared skin, growling, and her hands went up to stroke through his hair, her fingers knotting in it, pulling him closer. He licked around the sensitive little pink bud of her nipple, teasing, and when she arched, he gave it a bit of a nip. This made her gasp rather loudly and arch further, which was encouraging, and damned sexy to boot. So he nipped at her again, then again, a bit harder, and when he heard her hiss of pain, he gave the tender little nub a very gentle lick. The results of this little experiment were even more encouraging - she made a long, breathy "Ohhhhh..." sound, and relaxed her thighs.
He ran a hand down her front, the perspiration and pheromone solution making her skin damp and slippery; he stroked her smooth thigh, first down the outside, then over the top, then slowly along the inside, starting at her knee, easing her legs apart with as much gentleness as possible. She trembled and clung to his shoulders, her expression apprehensive, so he bent his head down to her other nipple and licked it - and her leg relaxed, moving slowly outward. His fingers brushed the moist curls over her sex and she stiffened nervously; he increased the volume of his purr again and licked the underside of her breast, glancing up at her occasionally to judge her reaction.
Rogue couldn't think straight anymore. She felt the cold floor under her back. She saw the glare of the overhead lights. She heard the deep, rumbling noise Wolverine was making. She felt his hands and his mouth and the heat of his body, so close. She felt the wetness between her thighs - and then the brush of his fingers, and everything else vanished. All she could focus on was him. What he was doing. The way it felt. And then she wrapped her hands around the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers, and his kiss was hotter than fire, sweeter and wetter than her most cherished dreams and fantasies, and his talented fingers were stroking her clit just so, and she was moaning into his mouth, lost, willing, his.
He tore his lips away from hers and licked a straight line down her body, pausing occasionally to nip here and there, teasing her navel with the tip of his tongue; he adjusted his position, pulling her leg up over his shoulder, and licked down the inside of her thigh, making her tremble and gasp, and then he was right there, breathing in the delectable scent of her arousal, tasting it on his tongue, and she was arching and bucking so much he had to grip her hips tightly to hold her still. Her hands flew to his head, twisting painfully in his hair, her voice and wriggling body like a spur that drove him on; he found the little bud hidden in her slick folds and gave it a very gentle nip - and she gasped, nearly taking out a handful of his hair. He flicked it with his tongue, which earned him a soft cry and a little stroke over the crown of his head; he found the untried entrance, the source of the maddening scent, and lapped at it until she was practically crying with desire. He slid his tongue into her, making her moan - and discovered a barrier. Hmm. He pushed and it gave, but did not break. He brought up a hand and eased one finger into her - holy fuck, she was tight - and located the elastic membrane with his fingertip.
***************************
"You see, Doctor? She doesn't seem to be damaged in any way."
Dr. Risman folded her arms around the clipboard, trying to stare at the monitor without looking like she was staring. "Indeed. He's quite the suave lover, that old buck. Years of practice, I'm sure."
Did Stryker detect a hint of jealousy in the woman's voice? He chuckled. "Time since the doe began to submit to his advances?"
Baker managed to tear his eyes away from the screen long enough to flick a glance at his watch, then returned his gaze to the much more interesting sights the monitor was showing him, in full digital color. "Nine minutes, forty-three seconds. Sir."
Less than ten minutes, and the buck had that inexperienced doe panting for him. Risman scrawled another note. Yes, definitely one hell of a suave lover.
***************************
Wolverine managed to work two gentle fingers into her, licking and nipping at her inner thigh, her clit, the dripping opening that was covering his hand with sweet, savory wetness; she was about as ready as he could possibly get her, and thank God for that, because he didn't think he could wait any longer. He withdrew his fingers, licking them clean, and slid back up her body to claim her mouth; she gripped his shoulders tightly, tasting herself on his tongue, her nails digging little bleeding crescents into his flesh that healed almost instantly. He turned her slowly, easing her over onto her side, one hand toying with her nipples, and looped his free arm under her to help her onto her stomach. He sat up, grasped her hips, and pulled her up onto her knees, licking the salt from her back; curving his body over hers, he reached between them to stroke her gently, and she gasped.
"Please," she whispered, her breathing ragged and shallow. "Please...."
That, he understood.
He knelt between her legs, positioned himself at her entrance, and pushed into her with one swift thrust that made her gasp in shock. He stroked her back, kissing her skin, purring; he could smell her fear returning, along with some blood, and figured he had hurt her, which wasn't his plan. So he withdrew gently, making her moan, and then pushed back in, slower. She gasped again - but the fear was gone.
She rocked her hips back to meet him, matching him thrust for thrust, the damp skin on her forearms squeaking on the smooth floor; he curled over her back and reached around her to cup her breasts, never breaking the rhythm, tweaked her aching nipples. She moaned softly and reached an arm back to touch him - somewhere, anywhere, she didn't care - and found her fingernails trailing over his ribs, which he must've liked, because he growled and increased his pace.
Shit, she was tight, and so hot she almost burned him; her inner muscles clenched around him in waves, tightening and relaxing in a steady pattern he found beguiling. She was wonderfully soft, incredibly wet, so eager and so fucking beautiful. God, he could easily picture himself keeping her as his only mate, protecting her from anyone else that might dare to want her - the idea that some other being might even think about touching his mate infuriated him, and he began to thrust harder, faster.
Rogue cried out, unable to control herself anymore, and gave up trying to be quiet. She wrapped her arms around his and leaned forward, pressing her chest to the floor, pushing her hips back against him, urging him, digging her nails into his forearms. He growled and lowered his mouth to her shoulder, kissing, licking, nipping; his fingers, trapped between her breasts and the floor, pinched her nipples mercilessly, almost roughly, and he was getting close.
Sweat dripped from his skin to splash in shimmering droplets across hers, marking her with his scent; he pulled a hand free and plunged it down between her legs to stroke her clit, making her wail and arch and speed up; he pushed her hair aside with his jaw and she obligingly threw it over to the other side, giving him access; and when she shuddered and came, her wet heat pulsing around him, dripping fresh dew onto his fingers, he let himself go.
Growling possessively, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the floor; he thrust into her over and over again, deep and hard and fast, no longer following a pattern or rhythm but his instincts; the tension built up in him like something about to explode; and when he finally came with a loud, guttural roar, he sank his sharp teeth into her shoulder, marking her, tasting her, claiming her. His.
***************************
Baker swallowed hard. "Time of first completed copulation, oh-nine-forty-seven."
Risman noted the time on her clipboard, as did Baker.
Stryker grinned. "Excellent. Keep an eye on them, Baker - I want a full report when I return - how many times they've mated, how long it took him to recover for the next round, times of each and every copulation. Under no circumstances are they to be disturbed."
Baker swallowed again, the lump in his throat like a furry little mouse trying to get out. "Yes, sir."
Baker's two superiors strode out of the room, leaving him alone with the monitor and one hell of an erection.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
WARNINGS: This series contains a Feral!Logan/Rogue pairing, along with several scenes of lab-rat type experimentation. Be warned, this could be disturbing to some.
LAME DISCLAIMER: I owneth naught. Sueth me not, for I art a broke-ass bitch. Eth.
FEEDBACK: Help me get away from myself.
A/N: This started out as a PWP based on NIN's "Closer" - and then it had to go and develop a flamin' plot, and then... well, it's big now. I kept the title, though, because it works.
LAME DISCLAIMER: I owneth naught. Sueth me not, for I art a broke-ass bitch. Eth.
FEEDBACK: Help me get away from myself.
A/N: This started out as a PWP based on NIN's "Closer" - and then it had to go and develop a flamin' plot, and then... well, it's big now. I kept the title, though, because it works.