Three Months Earlier
When Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty got back to the mansion, she was already wearing some of her new clothes, and she knew she was turning heads. Of course, who wouldn't turn heads in knee-high leather stiletto boots, black tights, a short black skirt, black cami and a sheer gold-shot black blouse? Well, maybe some people, but definitely not her. She looked hot, and she knew it. That knowledge was there in the way she returned the smiles of some of the guys still hanging around the mansion, many who called out compliments on her new hair style—but she knew what they meant. They were referring to the whole package.
To Rogue's disappointment, though, she didn't see Logan that night. She finally decided that he must have headed off to some bar. It was frustrating, but she decided that she could handle it. So she spent the evening putting away her new clothing and deciding what to wear the next day. She had a campaign in mind, and so she planned the next stages carefully. Her current outfit was meant as a shock to the system, one she'd hoped to deliver that night, but now that she thought about it, maybe it would be better to gradually introduce Logan to the new Rogue. Well, maybe not too gradually, though.
Logan had declared that the junior X-Men team members would start a rigorous exercise and training schedule as of Monday morning, bright and early, to continue until their fall college classes started, after which they would be expected to maintain a certain level of physical fitness and readiness. Seeing as it was Sunday night, Rogue decided that would be the first place she would show off a little. Normally she wore sweats and long-sleeved top to work out in and uniforms for training, but there was no mandatory dress code. She was thankful for that now because she knew exactly what she meant to wear, and it all started with that collection of body stockings Jubilee had barely had to talk her into.
So Rogue showed up for the team work out wearing a pair of shorts that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs and a sports bra. Since Kitty and Jubilee were wearing the same, although with less spectacular results since Rogue did have the best curves of the three, no one could say anything about the general outfit. Logan, however, scowled at her and barked something about trying to kill everyone. She simply held out an arm to Jubilee, who touched it with her bare hand, and said, “Body stocking.” Logan had growled but nodded and started the workout session. Since this consisted of an hour of weight training followed by a three mile run, Rogue was very glad that she was not wearing sweats in the ninety degree temperatures of the late August day.
This routine continued for two weeks, and during that time Rogue noticed Logan's eyes wandering up and down her body more than once before snapping away to look at something else. If that didn't tell her that he was noticing her body was a woman's, not a child's, then his actions after “duty” hours would have given her all the hints she needed.
At first it was just the way he watched her when she entered the dining room that Monday evening for dinner. The X-Table was already full, and most of its occupants hadn't seen her new wardrobe, so she blushed a little at the appreciative glances from Bobby and even Hank and Scott for her form-fitting sheer top, cami and skirt look, this time paired with nude hose and slightly demure flats. No need to go for the leather boots all the time, although they were more fun than she would have imagined. Logan's reaction, on the other hand...she noticed how his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
Logan hardly took his eyes off of Rogue throughout the meal, and then when Jubilee mentioned a movie night, he followed the group into the TV room and sat next to her on the long couch. Granted, Kitty was on her other side, but there was something about the way his thigh was pressed against hers, and the way he didn't flinch away from that contact, that made her wonder. Then he started playing with the ends of her hair halfway through the movie, which made her realize that somehow he'd gotten an arm up on the couch behind her without her noticing. She definitely noticed how close his fingers came to her skin, though, and concentrated harder on her focus and attempts to control, just in case, than she did on the movie. In all honesty, she couldn't even remember what they were watching by the end of the night.
As the group ascended the stairs to their rooms, Rogue noticed that Logan was once more following her closely. She wondered about it, about what that closeness might mean, but he made no attempt to stop her entering her room and closing her door, and for some reason she was grateful.
After that night, Rogue noticed that sometimes Logan's hand would brush her arm when it didn't really need to. Once she felt the heavy weight of his hand on her backside when he corrected her position in a fighting stance, and she swore he left it there longer than strictly necessary. She had shivered, and he had moved away, so she couldn't be completely certain. There were other indications that he was beginning to see her as a woman, and that thought thrilled her. He'd dropped the “kid” when speaking to her, using either Marie in private or “darlin'” in public, deliberately teasing her. If he was expecting her to blush and back down, he was in for a surprise. She countered his new pet phrase with “'sugar,” and he seemed content to let her.
That was why the event that occurred at the end of those two weeks completely shocked the hell out of her, reducing her to tears and bitter rage.
Logan felt like a man hounded by his own thoughts, his own body. There was no way he should be thinking the things he was about Marie, the little girl he'd brought to the School two years prior, legal age of consent now or not. She was too young, too innocently curious to be able to match what he was. That is what he told himself, and he repeated it to himself every time his treacherous eyes roamed those lush curves that were no longer swathed in too many layers, every time he found his hands wandering where they shouldn't or said things to make her blush because that flush of red in her cheeks made her even more beautiful. It was all right for her to be beautiful, but he wasn't supposed to think about sex around her, dammit! Only he found himself doing that more and more often.
So when he wasn't flirting with Rogue against his better judgment, Logan threw himself into flirting with Jean. He argued with himself over that one, too, but at least she was a mature adult, not a young woman testing her wings and scaring the hell out of him in the process. She knew where she stood on her own sexuality, and that's what he told himself he needed. For two weeks he did his best to ignore the scents of Rogue's arousal and focus on the arousal he knew he was creating in Jean.
It was a small fight that pushed flirting over the edge, apparently. He heard about it from her later. All that he knew was that suddenly Jean and Scott were barely talking, and he would go to bed early while she stayed in her office in the lab until the small hours of the morning. That was when Logan decided to see how far he could press his advantage, and that was when Jean decided to let him. For two days he visited her in her office late enough that all the other occupants of the mansion were asleep, or should have been, and teased her, made her want him more and more, opened her eyes to the possibilities that could exist between them while he ignored the possibilities that hardly seemed possible with the other woman in his life. Three days into his fourth week back at the only place he really thought of as a potential home, Logan found himself having wild sex with Jean on the floor of her office, and they didn't stop there. After an hour of recuperation, they headed up to the kitchen for a snack and ended up on the tile floor, the few clothes they had thrown on pushed out of the way so that they could have full access to each other again.
Just as Logan was emptying himself into Jean for a second time, reveling in the sheer physical release and the way it blocked all those thoughts he really shouldn't be having—well, most of them—he looked up. There, in the doorway to the main hall, stood Rogue. She was dressed in a little black night gown and robe set that barely came to mid-thigh, with no gloves covering her hands, and the look in her eyes was a mixture of horror, revulsion, and heartbreak that quickly turned to a bleak fury. Logan just froze, causing Jean, coming down from her own orgasm, to look over at the doorway as well.
That day had been a particularly good one for Rogue. She had woken up with the fierce need to meditate before training, their last one before classes would interrupt their intense schedule. Practices with the Professor had been sporadic due to his recent trip to Washington D.C., but she was more determined than ever to figure out how to switch off her mutation, how to control it. So she performed her breathing exercises, closed her eyes, and began the search within herself the way the Professor had taught her.
Rogue hadn't been expecting to find her switch then, although she knew she wanted to, so when it suddenly became clear to her in the calm of her mind, quiet of all voices for a rare moment, she was shocked. Not that her surprise kept her from quickly grasping that prize, however. Still, while she was pretty sure that she had found it, a small part of her wanted to keep the news quiet. What if she was wrong, after all? There were only a few ways to tell, and none of them were acceptable.
Rogue had opened her eyes and jumped up from she'd been sitting on the floor of her bedroom. She practically flew down the stairs to the Professor's office and knocked, hoping that he was alone. He was, and when she explained what she thought she'd found, he immediately demanded that she touch him. So she had stripped off one glove and held his hand. For five minutes. Then for ten. They just looked in each other's eyes, and Rogue could feel his happiness for her mixing with her own joy in the quiet of the office.
Still, Rogue went to the training session wearing her gloves, uniform carefully zipped to the neck just in case. She wasn't ready to announce anything yet, not when she felt her emotions roiling from the breakthrough from elation to nervousness to sheer sexual frustration to fear. It was the fear that stopped her, that and the knowledge that she could quickly get in over her head, like a drunk, if she wasn't cautious.
The evening was torture in a way, but she clung to her resolve not to say a word to anyone, not even when the Professor raised his eyebrows at her during dinner in a silent question. Her quick head shake told him she wasn't ready, and he had respected her decision.
It didn't really surprise her when sleep refused to come despite her attempts to lull her body into relaxation with a very dull textbook she had just received. Rogue finally gave up and decided that maybe a snack, something solid sitting on her stomach, would help. She didn't bother putting on more than the little robe that went with her nightgown, not even her gloves. After all, it was nearly midnight. No danger of anyone roaming the halls and seeing her without her gloves on, and even if someone did see her, she could easily explain it away and pretend an uneasiness with their nearness to get them to leave her alone. So she slipped out and padded barefoot downstairs.
As she neared the kitchen, she was so lost in thought that she was practically in the doorway before she noticed the noises. It was obvious that someone was having sex in there from the grunts and moans. She flushed and started to back up. That was when she heard the growl.
No. No. Nononononononono...a monotone in her head that threatened to overwhelm her.
There was only one mutant in the mansion who growled like that under any circumstances. Rogue felt herself move to the doorway even though she desperately tried to stop her rebellious feet. The sight that met her eyes hit her like a train wreck, straight in the gut. And like a train wreck, she couldn't wrench her eyes away.
Logan and Jean on the floor, clothes mostly off, legs entwined as he pistoned her relentlessly. Sweat covered their bodies. Her red hair flowed over his hands as he braced himself above her, and then he was groaning and snarling her name. Jean.
Damn. Damndamndamndamn.
At that point the bastard looked up and straight into Rogue's eyes. He stilled right in the middle of what she knew was his orgasm. She didn't care then that he would see her without gloves, with very little cloth covering her “deadly” skin at all. As she saw the lust in his eyes, the moment when he didn't even recognize her, Rogue felt as if something were swelling within her. It might have been hurt, it might have been anger, but it seemed like much more than that, and what it triggered...if she had still felt sane she might have shuddered.
Instead, she let out a hate-filled shriek and raised a hand, letting an awareness that she thought long since gone flood her. Logan flew backwards, off of Jean and plastered against the far wall. Jean stared at Rogue disbelievingly as Logan tried to move. His eyes had widened with his own horror, but Rogue no longer cared.
“You motherfucking asshole!” she shouted, exalting in the volume that she knew would bring half the mansion downstairs in bare minutes. Bare. Ha. “You are filth, Wolverine! You and that whore on the ground had better not die any time soon, because Heaven won't have you, and Hell decided it's too good for the likes of you!” She felt tears sliding down her face, but they barely registered in her rage.
Jean raised her own hand, and Rogue was pushed back, out of the doorway. She didn't let that break her grip on the metal, though. Nothing could do that, Rogue swore to herself as she held Logan in place and just cried while she heard the sound of multiple feet rushing down the wooden stairs.
Scott was the first to reach her, and at first he only saw the young woman on the floor, bare hand stretched out. She wasn't pointing, but he found himself looking into the kitchen anyway. What he saw there made him shake with something more of hurt than anger. Logan, mostly naked and pinned to the wall by an unseen force. Jean, also naked but trying to rearrange her clothes, hair mussed and looking the way he knew she looked when she'd just had really great sex. It made Scott feel physically ill, and he couldn't force himself to look at it any longer. Instead, he turned back to Rogue.
She knew he was kneeling beside her. Rogue felt his hand stretched out toward her, felt it connect with the silk sleeve of her robe. It was as if that touch was the catalyst for her complete breakdown. She dropped her hand at the same time she lost her connection with the metal. Heedless of her skin, knowing it couldn't damage him just then, Rogue threw herself into Scott's arms, deep and wrenching sobs seeming to consume her.
Despite the shock of seeing what was obviously interrupted sex between Jean and Logan, Scott was able to register even more surprise when he felt Rogue's face buried into his neck and—nothing happened. There was no pull, not the way he'd heard it described, just soft, smooth skin and tears. So he cradled her as he looked at the lovers in the kitchen, barely registering the bodies now crowded around the doorway. Logan was staring in obvious amazement at Rogue's skin pressed to Scott's even as he scrambled to pull up his pants and find his shirt, and Jean looked as if she was feeling a mixture of embarrassment at being caught having illicit sex and...jealousy? Scott wondered bitterly why she would be feeling that, even if he was holding another woman in his arms, after what he could see she had been doing.
The Professor was the last of the adults to arrive at the scene, and he firmly ordered the children at the edge of the crowd back up to bed. The X-Men parted to let him through to where Scott and Rogue were still on the floor, tears falling unchecked down both faces. One glance in the kitchen told him all he needed to know.
“Take Rogue upstairs, Scott. I will handle this,” he told the man he considered one of his shining successes. “Don't be afraid of her skin. She should be able to control it, at least long enough for you to get her into bed.”
Scott nodded mechanically as he stood and scooped up Rogue's heaving body. She curled into him, seeking refuge from the truth that had been forced onto her, into her brain, seared there forever as if with a laser. They were almost to the stairs when the Professor, still staring at the debacle in the kitchen, called back, “Oh, and Scott, stay with her, please. I think it will help you both.”
Again Scott nodded as he slowly climbed the stairs.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, so once I finished my homework tonight, this just begged to be written even though it was already 10:30 at night. See how much I love you? I wrote it, and here it is. It's...painful. Just so you know. I hope you all enjoy (yeah, that's a rather sadistic term for it) this product of my sleep deprivation. Sorry it's a little long. I couldn't figure out how I might divide it up into two chapters, so I just left it.
Chapter End Notes:
Mwahahahaha!!! Almost up to "current" time with the flashbacks that I felt necessary to explain the story.