”Logan, stop!”
Blink and twitch,
“Logan, you have to stop!”
Flinch, palms covering ears.
“Logan!”
Can still hear. Struck claws through your eardrums and covered your ears but you can still hear, it’s never enough, no matter what you do it’s never enough and you can fucking hear every fucking peep and whisper, plain as a day, and it’s driving you nuts and there’s no way out of this because you’re stuck in this hellhole and every fucking one of them expects you to behave and keep things running for them because that’s what you do and because you’re so fucking good at making things work.
“Logan, please…”
No.
“Logan, you have to stop hurting yourself.”
You won’t, you can’t and you shouldn’t listen to her.
“Logan, just look at me.”
Close your eyes cover your ears and crawl away from her because she’ll make you see and hear and feel and you don’t want that, don’t need that. You can’t tell her to get lost because you’d have to talk to her to do that. You haven’t thrown her out because you’d have to touch her to do that. Just curl over yourself and try to make her see that she should leave, leave and let you be because you can’t take it anymore and this is the only time of the day you can be by yourself and you need it, need the solitude and peace even if it’s just few moments because otherwise you’ll go insane.
“Logan, I need to speak with you. Would you stop and listen?”
Pacing. Pacing’s good. One, two, three and turn. One, two, three, turn.
“Logan!”
Hands off! Get your hands off! Have to keep counting!
“I need to speak with you! It’s important!”
Hands off or you’ll lop them off. She doesn’t understand, won’t stop or go away and soon you have to do something to make her go away because her whining is really grating your nerves and it would feel entirely too good to skewer her, feel her heart thrum against the metal, those sweet vibrations creeping up your arms and flooding your system. You can taste the blood at the back of your throat, still yours from when you shredded your ears, but soon to be hers if she doesn’t understand and go away and leave you alone.
“What’s going on in here?”
Kid.
“Go to sleep, Rogue. It’s none of your concern.”
Yeah. How could it be her concern? She’s not a mutie anymore.
“Logan? Are you all right? Where did all that blood come from?”
Walking closer. Hand on your arm, tugging gently your sleeve. She wants to see. Let go. Let go and let her see. She’ll make it all right. She’ll make the bitch go away. She’ll leave you alone. Just let go and let her see. That’s it, just lower your hands. Relax; she’ll make it all right.
“Oh…”
Fingers brushing dried flakes of blood from your earlobes.
“Rogue, go back to bed. I need to discuss with Logan.”
Clamp your palms over your ears, now. Before that persistent nagging will make you do something you’ll regret.
“Stop bitching, Storm. Can’t you see he’s in no condition to talk?”
One day you’re going to fuck the living daylights out of her. Show her with every move and touch, the only way you can, how much she means to you. How much you appreciate her, the way she always seems to be there when you need something. One day. Right now you settle for hiding behind her back, wrapping your hands around her slender waist and burying your face to the cascade of her shiny brown and white mane. Breath in her scent because it’s the only thing preventing you from tilting over, taking that final leap through the window behind your back. From this height it could actually work. You don’t really want that, but there are not so many options left when Storm’s got you cornered like this.
“You don’t even belong in here anymore. You have no part in this whatsoever. Go to sleep, Rogue.”
Let her take the blow. You can feel her flinch, but she’s stronger than that. She’s stronger than the bitching Goddess at the doorway.
“I belong to where my friends are. Where my family is. And you don’t have a say over that matter, Storm.”
Venom. Venom in her voice. Cold ice flowing in her veins.
“Family? Friends? Rogue, you gave that all up when you took the cure.”
Shut up, shut up, bitch. That’s a new low, even from you. She had a choice and she took it. Took the chance to be normal, but then again… You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t understand what it is to be wrapped up like a mummy 24-7, hiding in your room in fear of hurting people, living the word lethal tattooed to your forehead and see everybody around you cringe and scatter to every direction if you as much as sneeze too loudly. You have to say something. Open your mouth. You can do it. You. Can. Do. It.
“Cut the crap, Storm. Leave her out of this.”
Claws out. You must be scaring the woman cradled against you. Cage of sharp blades and straining tendons, but woman standing at the doorstep has gone too far.
“I came to talk with you, not to fight with Rogue.”
She’s telling the truth, and you know it. Just like you know that she told what she’s really thinking about Rogue earlier.
“Just leave him alone! He’ll talk with you in the morning!”
Kid. Struggling not to cry. Struggling not to show weakness. She’s doing good. Hands on your wrists, rather pulling your fists closer to her than pushing them away. Fight and you’ll hurt her. Let her guide you. Let her guide your body just like you let her guide your mind. Fingers rubbing the backs of your hands just above the claws, grating the frayed edges of the wounds against the blades. Endorphins kicking in to drown the pain. Shitload of hormones crashing through your veins and suddenly you feel like fucking her to the floor right now, right here, to show Storm how wrong she is about Rogue not having family or friends, because she has you, and you’ll be her friend, you’ll be her family, you’ll be her world even if everything and anybody else abandons her. You move to grab her even closer to you and rub her backside with your front side and friction nearly makes you moan out loud. Instead voicing your feelings you bury your face against her neck and lick the salt from her skin, tasting her anger and rage towards the Goddess in front of you.
“Fine. I expect you in my office, first thing in the morning.”
One down, one more to go. Shivering in your embrace. Not out of fear, that much you can tell from the ripe damp scent of her arousal.
“Logan? Are you alright?”
Almost all right. Almost there. Just stop talking.
“Logan?”
“Shut up.”
Silence. Blessed silence. She just stands there, her back pressed against you. Still caged between your body and claws. There’s no fear, but there’s hesitation. She doesn’t know what to do. What to think. You haven’t touched her after she got the cure. You let your claws slide back in partially and uncurl your fingers from tight fists, screech of metal against metal making her flinch a bit. Like nails on a chalkboard when bones of your palm chafe against your claws. Can’t make them go back in. Not yet. But you want to feel her. Feel her skin under the pads of your fingers and you skim the narrow exposed gap at her waist lightly. You won’t fuck her now. Probably never. But you have to make her see, have to make her understand how much she means to you, and how wrong Storm is in her assessment of her. So you let your hands wander, reveal even larger amount of her skin, slice off the top of her pajamas and cup her breasts with your clawed hands, letting the sharp blades graze over already pebbling nipples while your lips and tongue seek her jugular and her pulse quickens.
She stays silent, but arches against you. Her hands leave your wrists and reach up to grasp your hair, to pull you even closer. She’s hungry for this. Hungry for you. Hungry for touch. And you know you won’t fuck her tonight because you’d take her too far, fast and hard, you’d maim her in your yearn for power.
You manage to pull the claws back in, inch by noisy inch, until they can’t hurt her anymore, but then they’re stuck inside, halfway there, and your wrists won’t turn. Your palms are straining, tendons stretching and it’s getting uncomfortable.
She doesn’t talk, but starts walking backwards, forcing you to move until you can feel the backs of your knees touching something soft. The chair by the window. Your knees obey her and buckle under you. She turns and leans closer, hovering over you, face flushed, eyes twinkling and her fragrance almost makes you discard your earlier decision of not taking her now. Veil of brown and white locks fall over your face and cocoon you when she kisses you. Just a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth from dry, slightly chapped lips of hers.
She leaves the room, and there’s only silence. Finally you’re able to lean back and close your eyes because she locked the door behind her, locked it and took the key with her so that nobody can get in.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Small drabble to get back in to mood. Ah, it's good to be back home again!