She hadn’t seen him for hours, and she was not happy when he came back.
Wolverine had left her in the clearing and taken off at a dead run, determined to outpace the growling voice inside him that screamed at him to bite her fucking neck already and claim what was his. To claw the leather from both their bodies and bend her over the still warm carcass of her kill and take her.
So he’d taken off and run like blue blazes.
Very manly.
“I’m a fucking jerk-off,” he growled to himself. He couldn’t do that to her, not when she wasn’t herself and in the grip of the animal he’d forced on her. God, he’d wanted to mark her, own her, make her his. And so had she, at least a part of her did anyways, a part he’d created.
Christ, he’d made an almighty mess. Wolverine had thought he was helping her control it, but all he’d succeeded in doing to allowing her to wallow in the beast’s embrace instead of showing her how to put the fucker down once and for all, lock it up in her mind in a cage no claws could break. Wolverine had watched the bestial side of her emerge and flourish under his guidance. He had been proud and selfishly enjoyed watching her learn to scent, to track, to trap, to run with looping grace and fight like a wildcat, to unleash claws and go primeval.
He’d done it for a lot of reasons, the least of which was that it turned him on immensely. But a much larger part of him wanted her to rampage so there was someone like him. He’d tried to remake her in his own image, playing god with the demon in them. All he’d done was damn them both.
“I am a total bastard,” he muttered as he slashed his way through the underbrush, heedless of where he was going. As he ran, he thought about what he was going to do. The notion of throwing her down and fucking her senseless had something in him growling in delight and agreeing the idea had definite merit.
“Shut up, asshole,” he snarled as he beat the creature back into a dark corner of his mind. He had to get her back to the mansion, to Xavier who might be able to undo the damage Wolverine had done. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. In this state, Rogue was likely to lash out at someone at the Institute and attack them. The mental image of her impaling a student made his gut twist.
Or she might wind up jumping every guy in the place. He grimaced at that thought, bile rising in his throat at the idea of Rogue spreading her legs for Iceman or that Cajun jackass who’d been sniffing around her ever since he’d shown up. An image of Cyclops thrusting over Rogue’s body almost made him throw up. Now he knew if cold showers didn’t work the idea of Summers’ pasty ass would surely kill every erection he had for the rest of his life.
No, he’d made a glorious cock up of it, and he was going to fix it even if it killed him.
And it just might, judging by the murderous look on Rogue’s face when he finally showed up hours after sunset. He was still picking out bark and splinters lodged in his knuckles after he’d demolished some old growth forest that would have the environmentalists howling for his blood, if they ever came this far north.
Rogue stood on the porch, a pillar of steely ire, arms clenched so tight over her chest he doubted she would ever be able to unwind herself. “Where have you been? What the hell is wrong with you!?” she spat. “Everything was fine and dandy, then you tackle me like a linebacker for the New York Giants, and take off like a bat out of hell and leave me sitting on my ass. What the hell Wolverine?!”
He stopped short. She didn’t think she’d done anything? “What’s wrong with me? What the fuck it wrong with YOU?! Fine and dandy?! You…you…” Wolverine spluttered, unwilling say that she’d practically tried to dry hump him and it had freaked him out. “You fucking killed that buck!” Even to his ears that sounded lame.
“So? You do it, you hunt! You said you would let me really hunt in a few days anyways, so what’s the big deal if I did it early?” She was shooting him looks almost as poisonous as her skin. He almost shivered, but damn it he was the Wolverine and no punk kid was going to take the mickey out of him!
“I told you this was a training exercise! You were supposed to stalk, not massacre the damn thing! You lost control, Rogue! You let HIM take you over!” He stomped right up to her and glared in her face. Grudgingly, he had to admit it was impressive the way she didn’t back down on inch. His admiration turned to annoyance when she laughed in his face scornfully.
“So what?! You do it all the time! You go all bezerker on missions most of the time and god knows what you do up here when you’re alone!” She threw her hands in his face, exasperated. No claws, good, at least she a little under control. But that was the problem, he thought, she had only a little control.
“That’s the point kid! I do it ALONE, where no one around can see me lose it and act like a goddamn animal and not a man. And most importantly, no one gets hurts when I come here by myself! You were out of control!” He was shouting now, they both were.
“I was not out of control! I knew exactly what I was doing!”
“Oh reeeeeeally?” he sneered. Now would be the perfect time to remind her she’d spent some time earlier that day acquainting her thigh with his erection. But the look on her face was positively thunderous, and he thought better of it.
“No one was gonna to get hurt, you dumbass! You’re practically indestructible, I’m almost as good as! And even if I lost it and went after you again you could heal!”
He lost it. She had no idea big a nerve had just hit. “Oh, so you think it’s ok if I get hurt just b/c I heal! Well, kid, it ain’t like that! It’s never been like that! And I’m fucking sick of everyone thinking I don’t feel fucking anything just b/c my boo-boos go away real quick!” She was inflicting some major agony on him right now but not the physical kind. He could not get through to her and it was tearing him up, the guilt and anger at himself ripping him to shreds internally.
Rogue’s face flushed bright red. “Well, if didn’t go around acting like such a mother fucking badass 24-7 then maybe people might not treat you like that! Why don’t you knock off the growling bullshit and man up once in a while and tell them to stop! Why don’t you! Huh, why not?! Why do you always have to act so like you’re so fucking tough and no one else is!” She started hitting him and he let her b/c he was a selfish shit, and he’d earned every blow. “Why do you walk around like everyone else is a pansy and act nothing bothers you when it does! Why don’t you just tell people to stop hurting you!” She was really landing some good punches to his face and gut, and he refused to back down or push her away.
“Now, right now! You’re doing it! You let everyone hurt you! Stop it! Stop it! Stop me! C’mon Mr. Badass! Why don’t you stop me!?” Now she was crying, her hits becoming desperate thuds to his shoulders as she collapsed into his chest. “Why do you let me hurt you?” Her voice was soft now.
“Because I deserve it, kid.” He sighed into her hair then rested his head heavily on top of hers. The stood like that for who knows how long.
Her tears slowed and her breath hitched. “But you don’t deserve it. You’re a good man. You’re my friend.” She’d raised her head, tears brimming from her chocolate yes. “You’re a good man.” She was breathing on his chin softly, the smell of her tears and breath making it hard for him to think. “You don’t deserve it….you’re a good man…please…”
He looked down just as she reached up and brushed her lips softly across his so quickly it felt like a sweet breeze. He froze.
“Please,” she whispered again.
He brought his hands up to grip her shoulders firmly but gently, to keep her from touching him again. He wasn’t worried about her mutation at the moment; it was something much more powerful than having the life drained out of him that had rooted him to the spot.
She wound one hand around his bicep and squeezed. “You don’t deserve pain,” she said softly. “You deserve so much more.”
Oh god.
“You’re a…good…man,” she said whispered and strained towards his mouth again, slicking her tongue across her bottom lip, and he caught a flash of gold in her eyes.
“Stop.” He stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “You’re hurting me.” He closed his eyes, gently pushed her away, and walked into the cabin.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Not the ones you're hoping for.
Chapter End Notes:
Hardest words he ever had to say.