For the next week, he patrolled the mansion and grounds, conducted DR training, and ate with the staff with seeming indifference to the Rogue and the cessation of their one on one practice. He had agreed with Xavier to let her privately train with Hank, acquiescing to the Professor’s assertion that the Rogue needed a diversity of training and Wolverine needed a break from her.
Yeh, I need a break…but not in training he thought savagely to himself as the Rogue sauntered by him in the hall after being informed of the new training regime. He could’ve sworn she winked at him, but her face was turned to a classmate yammering at her.
He was restless wondering when he might catch the Rogue alone and see if she intended to hold to the wicked deal she’d struck.
He tried 2 days after he’d woken alone in the hotel room, after she drained him one last time, to corner her. She walked into her bedroom late one night and he’d slid from behind the door and wrapped his arms around her covered waist, growling into her hair what he planned to do to her.
Her spine melted into his chest and she allowed one of his gloved hands to snake under her shirt to skim her ribs before she said, “I say when and where. Now get the fuck out of here.” She was utterly calm, her voice devoid of emotion despite the scent of her rising lust tickling his nose.
He turned her around and bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile at her and grunted, “Not part of the bargain, darlin’.” He wrapped his hands around her ass and squeezed, already lifting her from the floor to wrap her legs around his waist.
She took a deep breath, smiled wickedly at him, then screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Fuck!” Wolverine dropped her unceremoniously to the floor and jumped at the sound of feet pounding down the hall. The Rogue winked sarcastically at him as she gestured to the open window. With a brief snarl he leapt out the sill and dropped to the ground with a roll, then ducked into the shadows.
“Rogue, what is it? Are you alright?” Storm’s worried voice floated out the window.
The Rogue was a damn good actress, her voice just the right pitch to convey embarrassment and fear. “I…I thought I saw a mouse. Hate them.”
Wolverine cracked his neck and stalked away, the sound of the weather witch’s comforting words annoying the shit out of him.
Since that he was paranoid every time he was in the Rogue’s presence. The feeling of her gaze on him dogged his steps, felt like it seared his skin wherever her eyes landed. She brushed past him in the dining hall a little too casually to be accidental. He caught her one late night on the patio smoking and drinking and she licked her lips saucily at him before she told him he would not be giving her grief about breaking the rules. He silently walked away and grit his teeth in frustration. She had him by the balls in several ways.
In training classes she didn’t mouth off to him but swung her hips in a new way as she crossed the room and stared him boldly in the eye. He could smell wisps of her arousal even as she looked away dismissively to blab to a classmate, like he bored her already.
Wolverine muttered to himself what a fucking teasing bitch she while groping blindly through the supply closet, looking for another goddamn laser pointer for his tactical planning class. Someone always stole them from the classroom and trying to find a new one in this almighty monstrosity of post-its, notebooks, glue, paperclips, and 50,000 other things he had no idea what the fuck they were…it was pissing him off.
He was elbow deep in a box of all sorts of shit when something hit him hard from behind and he fell forward, smacked his chin on the shelf in front of him, and bit his tongue. With a growl he rounded only to be met with the sly faced Rogue, who threw the lock on the closet door behind her with a decisive click that made something at the base of his spine start.
“I say here,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “And now.” She stripped off her short black gloves and threw them in his face. He didn’t even bother to catch them and let them fall to the floor. He started towards her, canines glinting in the pale light that seeped under the door. She put out a hand dangerously close to his face and he stopped. She quirked an eyebrow at him, reached out with her slim, deadly fingers, laced them under into the collar of his shirt millimeters from his skin, and yanked hard, popping every button.
“I want to see more,” she said roughly and her husky Southern rasp sent a zap down his nerves. She pushed him by his still covered shoulder until his back hit the shelf he’d just banged is face on. He held still as her bare hands roughly stripped the shirt from him, and she threw it on the floor with a scowl.
She hated that she approached him so soon, but he hadn’t made it easy for her to resist for too long. The way he’d prowled into her room like he owned her, when no one owned her. She didn’t even own herself, out of control as she was. He tested her, fired her temper too often, and he needed to learn that no one did anything to her without her permission.
And her permission should be hard won, something he hadn’t done when he’d fucked her mercilessly and gloriously over a stolen bike on a gritty dirt road off the highway.
The Rogue was in charge now and she would make sure he knew it.
So she ripped his shirt off, baring acres of his skin and thick muscles before her deadly touch. Instead of the sight of another’s naked flesh making her nervous, like it normally did, a tight knot wound in her pelvis and she leaned forward despite herself and inhaled him; she couldn't resist. He smelled of cigars, oak, and an earthy scent that reminded her of deep green forests.
Goddamn that hairy chest in front of her, those muscles, especially the ones that traced down the sides of his rock hard abs and down to his lean hips and that delicious looking hollow at his hip right before it dipped below his jeans…she wanted to taste him, to know if he felt as vicious and heated on her tongue as he appeared in her eyes. She wanted to sip his sweat from that delectable hollow and take not only his flavor but his mutation. He…no…IT revved her up in a way nothing had ever done.
The undiluted, raw, animal strength of his power intoxicated her when she stole it as she'd pressed her cheek to his cock earlier, and it had grown only more addictive each time she’d knocked him out in the hotel room. Each time she’d touched him and ripped a piece of him away she felt like a missing slice of her was filled in. Bursting with indestructible ferocity and pulsing life. It throbbed through her with an almost animal sentience that made her whole nervous system tingle.
And the Rogue would take what he had because that was what she was born to do, to take what others possessed. She was a natural born parasite.
His mutation sang to her skin, made her ache for him.
No! Not him…I want his power.
She shook her head; it was his strength and rage and healing she wanted. It made her feel alive after so long just existing, numbed to life, but still hyper-aware of its pulsing vibrancy as it skated by just out of reach, literally escaping from her fingers each time someone shied away from her.
He didn’t move away from her. He sought her out. She wanted him to. She wanted him.
No! I want his mutation, not him she reminded herself with a vicious shake of her head.
Not his rough hands on her body. Not the dangerous and incredible things he growled in her ear when he took her violently.
She reminded herself that he was nothing but a fuel source for her mutation, a battery, a meal for her pulsing need to steal and suck the energy from everyone around her. She would use him, take his delicious power and walk away. Strike first, strike hard, strike last. That was her way.
Wolverine grinned down at her as she backed him against the shelves and pressed her covered chest against his bare one. She kept her hands behind her back, for now, and it thrust her shoulders back and chest forward. She wore a filmy emerald green shirt and he could see her lacy black bra down the low neckline. A black mini and tights covered lean, young legs that ended at knee high combat boots. Her dark eyes were lined heavily in dark green, which made the chocolate in them all the more dark. Her eyes boiled like black coffee.
Wolverine put a heavy hand on each hip and pulled her to him so she could feel him hardening against her.
She smelled frustrated, sexually and otherwise, and pissed off. It was mouthwatering, so different from how he’d ever been approached by other women, barflies who usually reeked of lust and booze.
He could tell she was unable to help her need and it ticked her off something fierce; he knew how she felt. He wanted to wring her little neck for a moment, angry that she could make him feel like this, but no dice with no gloves and half his body bare to her poisonous embrace.
She planned it that way, so he would be distinctly aware of her power, and he was…but he didn’t plan to be gentle regardless.
“C’mere,” he snarled and wrapped his hands around her thighs and yanked them up around his hips, her tights rasping against his skin, her skirt hiked up. The Rogue’s breath caught and he felt the heat from her core against his stomach.
She's not wet yet. I'll let her get there.
With her legs wrapped around him, Wolverine eased his hands under her arms and held her by her shoulders, as he leaned over and tipped her back so he could bury his face in her tits.
The Rogue realized taking off her gloves and his shirt put her in the predicament that she couldn’t hold onto him hardly anywhere without knocking him the fuck out and ending this bit of rough she’d been thinking about endlessly. Lacking any other options, she wound her fingers in his wild hair and gripped fiercely to keep from falling back from his arms. His reaction was spectacular and took her breath away as he breathed roughly against the pale slice of skin showing from her shirt before he made a rough, wet swipe at her breast through the silk of her shirt, before biting down slightly, bruising her flesh.
She moaned at the sensation and arched her back to allow him more access.
“You get too loud kid, and we’ll get caught,” he rumbled. Before she could snap at him for calling her kid again, he sucked roughly at her nipple through her bra and shirt and she forgot to chastise him.
“Then again,” he panted against her, “kinda exciting, yeh?”
The Rogue took her lower lip between her teeth to stifle another gasp as he bit then licked her breasts, and only nodded as she twinned her hands again into his hair and tugged him closer.
SNIKT! Before she knew what was happening, she felt her bra fall away under her shirt.
“Neat trick,” she drawled with wide eyes as he looked up and leered at her.
“I got plenty of others,” Wolverine taunted and didn’t move, just looked at her, pinning her with dark eyes that felt that bored into her. He was still and appeared content to hold her suspended over him indefinitely until he got what he wanted.
She decided it didn’t all have to be a battle of wills every damn second and said in a heated whisper, “Show me.”
Wolverine growled and sunk his face back to her breasts as something in the back of his brain howled in a frenzy to hear her want something, anything…want him. He breathed on one nipple, saturating the fine silk of her shirt with his breath before sweeping it into his mouth and laving it with the tip of his tongue, back and forth, just flicking it.
She squirmed in his arms, wanting more pressure, more heat. She wanted him to bite her, hurt, make her feel on the outside like she did inside. “Harder damnit!” she hissed in his ear, her breath tingling his skin.
Wolverine grunted in satisfaction and bit down. She gasped and squealed. “Shut up,” he growled, into her chest.
“Well then quit making it feel so fucking good,” she hissed. He laughed into her shirt, then snaked his tongue back out to run across her neck, just hidden under the silk. Feeling her pulse leap under his tongue, the scent of her skin just under his nose, sweat just forming at her temple; it made him feel 10 feet tall. He ran one hand down her back, dragging roughly down her skin and leaving marks, and mentally celebrated as he made her sigh.
Then he slipped one hand in between her legs. “Ya don’t mean that darlin’” he muttered into her hair and slid his fingers down her crotch, pleased her wasn’t wearing panties under her tights. “Yer already wet,” he said accusingly, lifting his head from her neck to wink at her.
“Shut up or I’ll drop ya,” she threatened then her eyelids fluttered over her angry glare as he rubbed for forcefully against her lower lips, finding the center of her pleasure.
“Oh, you definitely don’t mean that.” He bit down on her other nipple now, licking hard, soaking the material until it clung sleekly to her curves. He twisted his fingers against her again and she yelped. He almost slapped his hand over her face, but stopped millimeters from her skin when he remembered his hands were bare. He nudged his foot behind him and snagged his shirt, kicked it up to catch, and covered his hand and her mouth with it.
“Now you can make all the noise you want darlin’,” he laughed darkly. His eyes glittered dangerously at her as she writhed against his free hand teasing the sensitive flesh between her thighs. He unleashed one claw, sliced her tights, and the delicious scent of her lust hit him like a physical blow and he bucked into her, his zipper grazing her sensitive flesh.
It bordered on pain and she loved it and ground hard against his groin and yanked his hair forcefully and dragged his mouth back to her breasts. He latched onto her again, biting harder now through the fine material. He broke through her skin and the copper zing of her blood made him more aggressive. He spun them around and shoved her back against the shelves and bowed her back under the pressure as he grabbed from his back pocket the condom he’d carried 24/7 since the hotel. As he tore it open with his teeth, her hands scrabbled at his Indian head belt buckle.
“Careful there girl, don’t want to end this party before it starts,” he reminded her as her fingers worked an inch from his bared stomach.
“Shut up and get this off!” she snarled. He laughed at her impatience and flicked the buckle open with one hand and lowered the zip. She reached for him then cursed when she remembered she had no gloves. He grabbed one of her wrists, covered by her long sleeves, and led her hands back to his head. Once her fingers were again firmly in his hair and drawing aching patterns against his scalp he slid the rubber onto his cock then put his hand with the shirt back over her mouth.
“Ya make me hard girl’” he said glaring into her eyes, “Ya wanna feel what ya do to me?” Her eyes were wide and she made something that sounded like a whimper under his grip. “Scream if ya like darlin’.” And he thrust into her violently. She shouted and bit him through the shirt as her eyes rolled back.
He pounded into her, loving the feel of her all that velvet and steel wrapped up in a sinful package pulse around him. It made him crazy. Both of his hands circled down to clutch her ass and drove her down onto him. The Rogue grabbed the shirt as it fell from his hand and shoved it against her mouth, making all sorts of luscious sounds that spurred him on. He pressed his chest against her and drove her back into the shelves again; the feel of wet silk and the smell of their fucking pushed the animal in his mind to the forefront as he pistoned into her smooth fire.
“Open you eyes,” he demanded. The Rogue shook her head and panted into his shirt. “Open you eyes damnit, I want ya to see it when I fuck ya darlin’!” he growled hoarsely.
She obeyed and he almost howled at the thrillingly angry look in her eyes. She didn’t like being told what to do but was unable to resist when he made her body sing.
“Tell me what ya want Rogue,” he ground out as he leaned into her hair and slicked his tongue against her ear, protected by platinum strands, “Ya want me to go harder?” She nodded. “Damnit, TELL ME!” he said dangerously loud.
Her eyes darted to the closet door, reassured herself it was locked, and lowered the shirt from her mouth. “Fuck me hard! Fuck me fuck me fuck me,” she panted against his cheek in time with each brutal motion he made to pound her down onto him. She used her hands in his hair as leverage to thrust herself into him, matching his fantastic strokes and driving him to an insane rhythm that made his bones feel like they were melting, like the metal in his bones had pooled to his groin and made him hard enough to pound railroad spikes through concrete with his cock.
He couldn’t take it anymore and threw her down on the floor, never breaking the connection, and threw her tights-clad legs over his shoulders and ground into her with a snarl and bit into the shirt that covered her mouth, burying his own rising growl. She almost ripped his hair from his head, pulling his head back and arching his hips harder into hers. Her thighs locked on each side of his neck as she shimmied under him, panting harder and harder. He felt so close and she was too by the smell of it and the sound of her heart rate speeding up until it almost sounded like a hum.
He locked eyes with her over the shirt they both clutched in their teeth and growled. The sound she made in return, a heated snarl of her own that matched his in ferocity, undid him completely. He reached down and, mindless of his bare hand, pitched her clit hard. The wetness from her pleasure slicked his fingers and rendered her mutation harmless for one pivotal moment.
She bowed against him like a taut wire and screamed into his mouth through the shirt, her hands scrabbling in his hair and she pulled out a chunk, which threw him over. The feel of her velvet pussy and the pain of her hands snapped the Wolverine and he came so hard spots danced in front of his eyes as he stared down at her. Her eyes were wide open but unseeing as wave after wave of pleasure pounded through her from the heated joining, radiating outwards from her core to the tips of her fingers.
She gasped, her mouth open and the shirt fell away as she whispered, “Oh…oh…Logan…oh.” Her voice fell on his ears like a prayer, solemn and timeless, and reason left him. He spat the shirt out and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her was sour honey on his tongue. Bitter, sweet, and strong.
That was the last thought he had before blinding pain took him down into darkness.
When he woke up he was flat on his back in the storage closet, his shirt down around his shoulders, even if the buttons were gone. He reached up and swiped a hand across his clammy cheek, feeling like shit. When he noticed remnants of Rogue’s black lipstick on it, he reached up with his finger and the traced the perfect dark slick outline of her lips against his cheek and grinned.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
No NIN music in this one, back to songfic in the next chapter I hope to have up by Tuesday night.
The bargain is struck and fulfilled.
The bargain is struck and fulfilled.
Chapter End Notes:
Next chapter singfic will be Reptile by Nine Inch Nails.
Listen to it and don't feel guilty LOL!
I am a comment whore. Feed the best!
Listen to it and don't feel guilty LOL!
I am a comment whore. Feed the best!