It was the group gatherings that were the worst.
Rogue knew her teammates had never fully forgiven her for taking the cure. Their disappointment with her choice was always there just under the surface, coloring her days with bitterness and her nights with regret. If she had known then the ramifications of her decision then, along with the eventual outcome of her experience with the cure, she would have chosen a different path; she would have stayed to fight at Alcatraz. And maybe she might not have lost so many friends, or the respect of those who remained.
Still, Rogue continued to try. She wouldn’t be able to look herself in the face if she didn’t try. It wasn’t who she was. But that certainly didn’t make it any easier. Especially on nights like this. She was feeling restless. Edgy. Brazen. And she wanted something to happen to break the tension she could feel building inside her. It wasn’t unlike that night after the lab mission where she’d eased the suffering of that small golden haired feral girl. She shuddered imperceptibly at the memory of that night in the alley and shoved the mental image of Wolverine’s rhythmically rutting hips aside with difficulty. The image of that was forever emblazoned in her mind’s eye.
It was Jubilee’s birthday and she’d wanted to spend it at the bowling alley of all places. Rogue hadn’t wanted to go. These sorts of outings always seemed to end in couples pairing off, with Rogue following along as a third or fifth or seventh or whichever-the-hell-odd-number-you-wanted-to-call-it wheel. Kitty and Bobby. Jubilee and Remy. Hank and Ororo. Pete and Lorna. Kurt and Clarice. And Rogue. But tonight was Jubilee’s night, and Rogue couldn’t say no to that firecracker on her birthday, let alone any other day of the year. And, clearly Jubilee was trying. So Rogue would try too.
Logan also rarely joined in when there was any kind of get together, and tonight was no exception. He’d merely raised one eyebrow at Jubilee’s announcement that they were going bowling, clamped a cigar between his teeth and headed out to the garage with a, “Find me if ya decide to have some real fun,” echoing in the entry way.
Despite her initial misgivings about joining in the festivities, Rogue found herself having a surprisingly good time. The beer had been flowing at the bowling alley and she hadn’t had the misfortune of being the worst bowler - that honor belonged to Bobby - and the couples hadn’t been too couple-y. It had almost felt like it used to before everything changed. Rogue still got annoyed that the tips of her gloves got caught in the ball holes, causing more than just the occasional gutter ball, but still. It was a good night.
After several rounds of games in which the entire lot of them played progressively worse, the remainder of the X-Men, minus Logan, fairly blitzed on cheap bowling alley beer, headed back to the mansion and continued the celebrations in the common room. After stumbling over a nonexistent wrinkle in the rug by the pool table, Jubilee had cried that beer pong and a game of quarters was in order. The atmosphere was loose, fun, and leaning towards rowdy, with no real hints of the standard undertones of animosity Rogue usually felt. But after several hours of more drinking and games, Rogue felt the first press of unease from her friends at Jubilee’s latest request for their post-bowling festivities.
“Jubilee -” Rogue started.
“C’mon, Roguey! It’ll be fun!”
“It’ll be dead!” She quipped back. “How old are you again now?” Rogue asked her, frowning into her red plastic cup.
“Hey, chica. A girl only turns twenty-six once. It’s my birthday, and this is what I want. You going to be the one to tell the birthday girl no?”
Rogue just shook her head and sighed. “Hell no. But I think I will head up to bed. I’ve had enough to drink. Besides, uneven numbers,” she muttered glancing around at her teammates.
“Rooooooogue,” Jubilee whined. She apparently had enjoyed the effects of enough beer and shots of tequila to forgo her usual plethora of excessive wording and instead settled for one long drawn out syllable.
Rogue rolled her eyes and smiled at her, but still. There was no way she could play. “Jubes, I can’t. You know I can’t. And nobody here wants to play with me.”
“I’ll play with ya.” A low, deep voice sounded past Rogue’s ear and she shivered in recognition.
“Oh, Wolvie!” Jubilee cried. “Really? It’d make my birthday! And if we pair up, I promise I won’t you know,” she made a quick motion with her fingers, “Pfft you!”
“Hell, I told ya to come get me when you guys wanted to have some real fun. And this,” he said with a leer, “Sounds real fun.”
“Really,” Rogue said, sarcastically as she turned around to face Logan. She took a moment to take in his appearance before answering. A fresh cigar was rolling between his fingers, and his hair was slightly damp from a fresh shower. Though, she thought frowning, it looked like he’d thrown back on the same clothes he’d worn while in the garage. “Playin’ seven minutes in heaven with a buncha drunk superheroes sounds like fun to the Wolverine?”
He gave her a charged look over the top of Jubilee’s head and Rogue felt another shiver run through her.
“Yeah. Sounds kinda dangerous,” he said with a low growl. “Sign me up.”
Two months had passed since that night in the alley. Two months worth of restless nights reliving the most intensely arousing moment of her life. Two months of trying to tamp down the urge to follow Wolverine to another bar and do it again. Two months of avoiding Logan’s gaze, a task which had been next to impossible given the increased missions that had sprung up. Neither one of them had spoken about or hinted at what had transpired between them in that alley. And she’d noticed that Logan hadn’t been wandering away from the mansion as often as he used to before that night. But she’d been here before. She wouldn’t allow herself to hope. She wouldn’t let herself believe his presence was due to anything other than the more frequent number of excursions they’d had to deal with.
But with his abrupt appearance in the common room, Rogue had a feeling that the stalemate they’d engaged in was about to come to a head. She was looking forward to it as much as she was dreading it.
“Fine,” Rogue ground out. She didn’t know if it was related to the amount of alcohol she’d had tonight, or if she was just enjoying the feeling of toeing that line of recklessness she’d noticed lately, but she felt herself give in to their unspoken truce. She knew that whatever line that had existed between her and Logan was gone. And had been gone the moment she made the decision to stay in that alley and let Wolverine tell her to what to do to herself while he fucked another woman in front of her. The difference now was that she was acknowledging it. “Fine,” she repeated as she turned back to face Jubilee. “I’ll play. But you don’t get to be mad at me if I ruin your birthday and kill someone.”
Jubilee let out an ear-piercing squeal of excitement and clapped her hands together rapidly before rummaging through one of the cabinets that lined the far wall for some scrap paper and pens. “’Kay! Everyone write your code names down on these,” she said as she stumbled around the room to hand each one of them a piece of paper. “And them put ‘em in here.” She held up a pair of presumably unused red cups and placed them on the edge of the table they’d been using for beer pong. “Guys in one, girls in the other.”
One by one, everyone scribbled their name down and dropped it into the designated cup. Rogue wrote down the only name by which everyone in the mansion knew her by. Everyone except Logan. He was still the only one who knew her real name. She folded up her piece of scrap paper where “Rogue” was written in a slightly untidier scrawl than usual and added it to the women’s cup.
With an unnecessarily dramatic flair, Jubilee retrieved the guys’ cup and shook it to mix up the names. Rogue could feel her heartbeat pounding with anticipation. Who would have the misfortune of being paired up with her? She surveyed the males present, mentally sizing them up and trying to decide who she wouldn’t mind being matched with. She absolutely couldn’t picture any time in the closet with either Kurt or Hank. Both of them felt too damn familial. She definitely wouldn’t mind spending some time in the closet with Piotr. She had always thought he was good looking, and maybe with his metallic form she wouldn’t be able to hurt him.
Remy on the other hand, was a smooth, handsome, cocksure bastard who flirted with anything that moved, herself included. But if she was being honest, she could say without a doubt that she wouldn’t mind being enclosed in a small dark space with him. Plus, Remy hadn’t been around her or the X-Men before Alcatraz, and she didn’t feel the same sense of disappointment coming from him as the others. She had a feeling he was one of those people who pretty much didn’t judge you for your past mistakes, seeing as he’d made several of his own. She could see it all too easily - his smooth accented voice falling over her as he moved closer. His strange eyes glowing in the darkness as he pressed his lips against hers.
She was startled out of her ruminations by Jubilee’s announcement.
“Lucky guy number one,” Jubilee called out as she unfolded a piece of paper, “Iceman!”
A round of whistles and lewd comments followed Bobby as he stepped forward, blushing slightly. Or, Rogue squinted slightly as she took a closer look at him, not blushing, but flushed from too many shots of tequila. She snorted slightly under her breath as she recalled what kissing an inebriated Bobby had been like. Kissing Bobby had never been a pleasant experience to begin with; their experiments with her skin and his ice form had been damp and cold and frustrating. But if any alcohol was ever involved, he’d stubbornly insist that he’d be fine, Rogue would insist that he wouldn’t be, and she would eventually give in, kiss him, and then spend the next hour forming intricately shaped ice crystals as she waited for him to regain consciousness.
Jubilee reached for the girls’ cup and Rogue found herself holding her breath. Please not me, she begged silently to any supreme deities that might overhear and take pity on her.
When Jubilee announced Storm’s name, Rogue let out a sigh of relief. She almost pitied Ororo for what she was about to encounter. But she was damned glad it wasn’t her that had to spend the next several minutes in Bobby’s chilly embrace.
As Bobby and Ororo headed into the small coat closet that adjoined the common room, Rogue’s eyes flitted around the room trying to find something innocuous to focus on. After writing his name down, Logan had taken a couple of rapid shots of whiskey and settled against the far wall facing the entrance, arms crossed at his chest as he surveyed the scene. There was music playing in the background, the previous upbeat rock party groove having changed to a slower more sensual tune with bass thrumming through the floorboards and into the soles of her boots. She felt the pulse of the beat echoing along her skin and suppressed the desire to raise her hands up as she rolled her hips in time with the music. Jesus. What was with her tonight? Too much booze? Or was it something else?
Instead of giving in to the sudden urge to dance or analyzing her mindset further, Rogue instead headed over to the sideboard and poured herself a shot of tequila. She threw it back and bit down on the wedge of lime, even though she didn’t need it. Don Julio 1942 wasn’t normally a tequila used for shots, but Rogue didn’t feel like savoring the caramel and vanilla overtones tonight. No. She wanted it for its effects more than its flavor.
Jubilee read out the next two names to head into the closet, and Rogue realized she’d been rolling her empty shot glass between her fingers for the last seven minutes, swaying to the beat of the music. Colossus and Blink moved forward with identical grins on their faces. Damn. I really wouldn’t have minded being hooked up with Pete. As the couple headed into the open closet, Rogue felt her chest constrict with anxiety as she surveyed the guys who remained. She counted them off one by one. Kurt. Hank. Remy.
Logan.
She took another shot of tequila as Pete and Clarice enjoyed their time in the closet and she felt a slight easing of the panic that had gripped her a moment ago. It would be fine. She would just explain to whoever she was paired up with that they’d have to stare at each other awkwardly for seven minutes.
Or, you could leave.
The sudden thought echoed quickly through her mind, and she wasn’t exactly sure who had said it. Was it her? One of the others? Other than the girl at the lab, Rogue hadn’t absorbed anyone for years. As time had passed, she couldn’t tell whether or not her ability to subdue the voices was due to her slowly learning a semblance of control, or if time was simply causing them to fade.
She waited, frozen, as she strained her senses for any more opinions on her current circumstances. When none were forthcoming, Rogue took a third shot as she debated the suggestion. If she left, everyone here would be guaranteed to walk away unharmed. The same could not be said if she decided to stay. But if she left, she’d likely end up in her room, alone, pondering what could have been and regretting not taking a chance at belonging.
“You still with me, chica?” Jubilee had sidled up to where Rogue was leaning against the sideboard frowning into her once again empty shot glass.
Rogue’s lifted her head up slowly as the room spun around her. She focused on Jubilee’s dark eyes as she answered. “I dunno. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Jubes,” she said softly.
“Have a little faith, Rogue. Why would I want to ruin my own birthday by havin’ you kill someone?”
“’Cause you’re nuts,” Rogue quipped back.
Jubilee grinned back at her, unfazed by the comment. “Nah. Hiding a dead body’s too much trouble. Trust me. You’ll be fine.” The timer on Jubilee’s phone buzzed then and she strode over to rap loudly on the closet door. “Alright, Petey and Blinky. Make yourselves decent and get the hell outta there. Let another couple have a chance at heaven.”
Rogue shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she snuck a quick glance at Logan. He hadn’t moved and was still leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on her with an unnerving intensity. She jerked her eyes away from his, unsure as to what to make of that look and instead watched Jubilee pick the next set of names. “All right my fellow X-ladies. Who’s the next lucky guy gonna be? The loveable Kurt? The sexy Cajun? The cuddly furball? Or Hank?”
That comment earned a laugh from everyone in the room with the exception of Logan, who merely raised one eyebrow as he tossed back another shot of whiskey.
With a smile, Jubilee drew the next name out of the guys’ cup. “Looks like it’s Gambit’s turn.”
Remy strode forward, his usual cocky grin on his face as he stood next to the open closet door facing the rest of them. His eyes swept over the room resting on Rogue’s for a quick wink before moving on.
Rogue felt her pulse jump. If she didn’t get chosen to be with Gambit, it would be either Kurt, Hank, or Logan. And all of those encounters would be awkward in their own unique way. She should just leave. She wasn’t strong enough to go through with this. But despite her wish to leave, she found her feet stubbornly remaining exactly where they were. In front of the tequila.
Jubilee reached for the other cup and gave it a quick shake before plucking the next name from it. She hesitated for a moment as she unfolded the scrap paper and Rogue thought she heard a growl emanating from the direction of Wolverine. But he was motionless as she whipped her head around to glance at him, and she decided she must have imagined it. She knew Logan wasn’t overly fond of Remy, but had never really understood the reason for his animosity.
Jubilee smiled and cleared her throat to cover her hesitation at reading off the next name as she stuck the crumbled piece of paper into her back jeans pocket. “Pucker up and buckle up, Cajun. You’re in for a wild ride with moi.”
Rogue noticed Remy’s eyes blazed for a moment, but whatever emotion he experienced was quickly extinguished with another of those grins as he held out his hand to Jubilee with a smooth, “Après vous, chère.”
Rogue took another deep breath as she placed her gloved hands on the sideboard. She watched Jubilee saunter into the closet and close it behind her with a bump of her hip. The squeal of Jubilee’s laugh met her ears and Rogue relaxed slightly. She could do this. It was just a game. A friendly game.
Before she knew it, Kurt was sheepishly heading over to knock on the closed closet door to interrupt Gambit and Jubilee. Jubilee stumbled out of the small room looking thoroughly pleased with herself. Her face was flushed and she quickly smoothed down her shirt while giving Remy a lascivious wink as he followed out behind her, grinning, his cloak billowing out behind him.
“Alright, guys and gals. Not sure anyone’s gonna do better than what just went down in there, pun absolutely intended,” she laughed, “But let’s see what the rest of you’ve got.”
She took her time unfolding the piece of paper she’d drawn from the cup and with a quick smile in Rogue’s direction announced the name of the next guy to head into the closet.
“You’re up, Wolvie.”
Oh god, oh god. Rogue thought. Please. But she didn’t know what she was pleading for.
“And who’s our lucky gal? And I do mean lucky. Just look at him!”
“Jubilee, c’mon! Who is it?” Kitty had piped up from where she lounged on one of the couches and Rogue shoved down the sudden violence of jealousy as she thought of Logan in the closet with Kitty.
“Alright, alright. Hold your horses Kit-Kat. The very lucky lady is,” Jubilee fumbled with the paper and Rogue held her breath.
“Rooooogue.”
You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me.
Rogue didn’t know if she was pleased or pissed at being paired up with Logan. She knew that they needed to talk about what had happened, but this really didn’t seem like the proper venue to discuss her sudden foray into voyeurism and a stint into mild BDSM.
Logan didn’t say anything, but gave her a salacious grin as he strolled easily into the waiting coat closet, one arm held up inviting her to follow.
She clenched her fists at her side and strode in after him. Fuck being afraid. If they were gonna have a confrontation, she was sure as shit going to bring her A-game to the brawl.
The door slammed behind them and Rogue could hear the lewd taunts and comments easily through the gap beneath the heavy wooden barrier. The, “Don’t suck him dry, chère!” comment from Remy was particularly unsettling, and Rogue shivered. The room itself was barely large enough to accommodate one person, let alone two, and Rogue found herself uncomfortably close to Logan. Even without touching him directly, she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. She tried not to react to the nearness of him, but just like in that alley, she was helpless to resist. He held in his thrall as easily now as he had then. As he always had. And it pissed her off.
For several seconds, the only muted sound was that of their breath.
“So, we gonna talk about what happened in that alley, darlin’? Or are we just gonna go straight fer the touchin’?”
His voice was low and deep in his chest, and she could feel the vibrations of it dance along her skin. “What happened to ‘kid’?”
He snorted. “You ain’t a kid anymore. Not after what you saw. Not after what you did. Not after what I did,” he said, the leer plain in his voice.
She didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true, certainly. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Although unlike what Logan thought, she hadn’t been a kid since the day Erik had forced her into that fucking machine. It was apparent that up until that night two months ago, he’d still thought of her that way. A kid. Someone who needed saving. But what he didn’t realize is that over the past six years, while he’d been off doing god only knows what, she’d learned how to take care of herself.
She was suddenly unsure how to proceed. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I should’ve just stayed in my room tonight,” she mumbled as she tucked one stray strand of platinum hair away from her eyes and stared down at her boots. She was determined to avoid looking at him as long as possible, which was a difficult task given how close he was to her.
“It’s nature, darlin’. Your body is screamin’ out for sex. I can smell it comin’ off ya. You’re fertile and ripe. You want to mate. You want an animal buried deep between your legs, all hot and hard and wet. You want him to rut in you over and over again until he comes in you hard, so hard his seed spurts deep into your womb and runs down your thigh, and you’ll do anything to make it happen. That’s why you were in the bar that night. That’s why you let me tell ya what to do in that alley. That’s why yer here now.”
Jesus christ. A hot line of arousal shot straight down through her belly, nearly knocking the breath from her. She was equal parts pissed off, embarrassed, and turned on. And he knew it too if the cocky grin plastered on his face was any indication. He’d known what those coarse and honest words would do to her, and he inhaled deeply as he leaned into her hair, taking in the scent of her body reacting to him.
“Bullshit,” she breathed as she brought one gloved hand up to his chest and pushed him back from her. But the intended force of her denial and attempt to shove him away from her physically was knocked out of her by the ring of truth in his words. How did he know what she wanted when she’d been struggling to understand it herself?
He snorted and grinned down at her, reading her thoughts all too easily. “Your scent doesn’t lie, darlin’. It’s why I’ve stayed away from you before. All those years. Can’t fuckin’ stand to be near you when you smell like this. All luscious and wet, body and blood primed and pumpin’ for a man’s cock. I thought I’d leave ya alone, let you grow up and find someone who’d be willing to play with yer fire. But I ain’t waitin’ anymore. Not now that I know what ya smell like as yer comin’. What yer face looks like when you come down.”
At once, all words in the English language abandoned Rogue. She was at an utter loss for words. Why was he saying all this now? Was it because of that night in the alley? Another reason? Why would he want to stay away from her if he felt like this? It doesn’t make any fucking sense. For a second, she thought she heard the echo of her inner Logan start to say something, but when she tried to focus on the words she thought she’d heard, all that remained was a vast silence in the dark of her mind.
Finally after what seemed like minutes of silence, she finally summoned enough words to form a semi-coherent thought. “But - but my skin -” she sputtered, while still not addressing what she really wanted to ask him.
His response was an instant guttural growl. “Fuck your skin.”
Without thinking she said the first words that came to mind. “You wish.”
He raised one lip in a snarl at her response and he moved so quickly that she didn’t have time to process it. He shoved her against the throng of wool and down coats at her back, encircled her hands with one of his, and tilted her head and pressed his lips, teeth, and tongue against the naked skin of her throat. White hot liquid rushed down inside her, lighting her insides up with shock and pleasure. He sucked and bit at the skin of her neck, dragging his teeth along the column of her throat and then laved away the sting with his tongue. She could feel him sucking and biting her skin in time with her pulse and her body was instantly hot and wet and she struggled to resist the pull of his skin against hers. He didn’t let up though, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the draw begin. First, a trickle, then a fucking firehose of sensation.
She was overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through her where his lips met her bare skin. It had been nearly eight years since she’d last taken Logan into herself and she had forgotten what it was like. Forgotten the extent and depth of his senses. Forgotten the absolute fucking rush of wildness that came along with it. She’d never absorbed him when she hadn’t been dead or dying, and the difference in what she felt was astonishing and addicting in its intensity.
She was at once instantly sober, and more drunk than she’d ever been in her life. This time, Logan’s abilities weren’t busy trying to repair her damaged cells, but rather were working on enhancing them. She could smell the lingering arousal from the other couples in the closet. She could smell Logan. Oh, fuck. He smelled good. She could smell the engine grease that clung to his clothes from his time in the garage, along with his usual woods and cigar smoke and the soap from his recent shower. But now they were amplified until they filled her up entirely. Should could feel the rush of strength pour into her and she tensed her muscles as the feeling of raw power surged through her body. The touch of his lips against her was magnified and her body became alive. A wild call was sounding through her and she wanted to answer it.
His thoughts pulsed through her mind with every heartbeat. Want. Skin. Heat. Wet. Soft. Warm. She felt Logan sway against her as the rush of his strength entered her and she rocked her hips against his, and growled with delight as his hips shoved against hers in answer. She was suddenly and urgently full of need. He was right. Fuck. He was so right. She needed this, needed the contact of a man. No. Not a man. Him.
She turned her own head to dive into the warmth of his exposed skin and she inhaled sharply, taking even more of his scent into her. She rubbed her cheek against the rough stubble of his beard enjoying the sting of it before his borrowed healing factor quickly soothed over the burn. She struggled to free her hands from his grasp so she could rip his shirt from his skin and lick a path downward to the hardness she felt at her hip. She wanted to take all of him inside her.
“Whoah. Easy.” He abruptly pulled his lips away from her skin and whatever he apparently saw in her eyes made him swear. “Fuck. Fuck.” He repeated as he ground his jaw and shook his head in attempt to clear the remaining dizziness.
Without warning, the coat closet door was flung open and Rogue squinted at the sudden brightness of the common room lighting. Her body was throbbing, her senses were on overdrive.
Jubilee called out a disgustingly cheery, “Time’s up, lovebirds!” and Rogue snarled at the interruption. Jubilee couldn’t have possibly had worse timing.
Rogue felt the eyes of everyone settle on her and Logan, and she felt the hum of his mutation whispering underneath her skin. She could imagine what they looked like. Their hips locked together as Logan held her back against the coats. Rogue breathing hard, her lips parted in a snarl with her hands held behind her back. Logan swaying slightly with the aftereffects of her mutation.
Slowly, he released her hands and stood back from her, looking her up and down, breathing hard. She noticed the movement of every smooth motion of muscle as he breathed and she longed to sink her hands into their warmth. But she didn’t. She merely stood there and stared back, body shaking and chest heaving with the force of her want.
In the meantime, Jubilee fanned herself with one hand as she reached for the cup again. “Well! I don’t know if anyone’s gonna be able to top that, but we won’t know until we try, will we boys and girls?”
With difficulty, Rogue tuned out Jubilee as she looked back at Logan, struggling to reign in the throbbing of her body and the rush of her blood. She noticed his hand move to the inside of his jacket pocket and felt the blood drain out of her face.
“Thought ya might want these back,” he growled quietly.
When Rogue reached up for the pair of black opera length gloves she’d dropped in the alley, her face burning with embarrassment, he jerked them away from her outstretched fingers before she could retake possession of them. Instead, he looked at her with dark eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Logan. Please.” She said simply, mentally exhausted from what had just transpired between them.
He clenched his jaw and slowly extended one of the silky black gloves toward her outstretched hand.
“Come find me when yer ready for more, and I’ll give ya the other one back.”
And with that, he strode out of the closet and common room and out of the mansion, the sound of the front door slamming behind him.
And feeling more confused than she had in a very long time, Rogue left the stunned silence of the common room behind her as she slowly headed up the stairs to her bedroom.
She had a lot of thinking to do.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Did I say the next chapter would be up in a day or two? I meant a month or two. Ugh. Real life kicked me pretty hard in the face over the past few months. Massive project and tons of traveling for work, moving for the third time this year, and writers block the size of Mount Rushmore. HUGE shout out to @englishmajor226 for not only agreeing to beta this bad boy, but as acting for a source of inspiration, motivation and encouragement.
Chapter End Notes:
The final chapter is partially written, so I think there’s a chance it might be up in a couple weeks. Thank you for reading! Cheers.