Story Notes:
So, in art class we used to play a game (bear with me it’s relevant lol) where a person starts with a single sheet of paper & draws something, then passes it to someone & they do the same, & so on & so forth. But the only rule was, we couldn’t speak, so there was no plan for this picture, which was part of the fun. & I thought how cool would that be to do with a story? So, I’ve provided the first chapter, what happens from here on out is purely up to you. It doesn’t have to be only 2 authors, it can be as many as are inspired. So I hope you’ll play, if you’d like to participate shoot me an email: I’d love to see what you come up with. :)
Rogue stared at the ceiling, listening to the steady breathing next to her, the crisp white sheets against her bare skin like a caress as she replayed the night over again in her mind. Her heart ached, heavy and hot as she swallowed past the lump in her throat, unable to keep the tear from falling. The taste of betrayl bitter like the salt on her tongue. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw and the cool linen around her, drawing her leg up, ignoring the teasing slide of the fabric as it slid down her inner thigh. Her toes curled and she leaned forward, swinging her legs around. The chill on her skin at war with the fire licking through her veins. A shiver touched her spine as she stood, careful not to disturb Bobby.

She hadn’t been able to shake the cold since Bobby had… Since she’d... They...

The pit of her stomach went into a wild swirl. Rogue traced his features with her eyes, made silver in the soft moonlight. He really was a beautiful boy… He’d been gentle with her, if a bit clumsy. But he was just a boy...

When she’d felt his skin for the first time it’d been smooth and cool to the touch, her fingers had dug through curls, in messy dissaray merely by gel and her impatient hunger, over lean sinew, across shoulders barely broader than her own… All odd angles and muttered apologies, fumbling in the dark.

It wasn’t enough. She wanted fire, not ice. Passion, not uncertainty and calculation. A love that consumed her. ...Was that so wrong? Rogue knew what she wanted. Down to her very bones.

And it was wrong.

Then why did she feel this way? More as if she’d betrayd Logan rather than Bobby? She’d always hoped that someday... maybe...


She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and tiptoed as silently as she could, following the glow of her bathroom light that spilled across the floor, avoiding their discarded clothing as if they held landmines.

She let the door click shut behind her, and leaned back against it to gather herself, eyes closing against the sting. She sighed wearily and blinked, focusing her gaze. She took in the reflection staring back at her, studying herself disapprovingly. Touseled hair, the stain of scarlet on her cheeks stark against the shock of white hair haloing her pale face. Not due to her rendezvous, but to shame. She’d just given her virginty to the first guy that had came along. Sure, they’d been going steady. But she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t because of what she’d seen transpire between Bobby and her best friend Kitty on the pond that night. Her pride had been seriously bruised and that had been her wounded ego demanding that she win whatever ridiculous competition she suddenly found herself in. She could thank her Daddy and her brothers for that. She had a competitive streak a mile wide.

But when she’d realized Logan had gone because he’d had to kill the woman he loved… she’d felt an acute sense of loss. Grief and despair tore at her heart. She desperately needed to fill the hole his absence left inside. To drown out the misery before it drowned her. To be wanted by somebody for once...

And now that she had, she regretted it. Because it could never compare. Passion still ignited when she thought of the tall, dark, gruff Canadian, and her whole body ached for him, craved him, in vain.

Even if he hadn’t left, he’d never have seen her for the woman that was staring back at her. Who’d bloomed beneath those layers right before his eyes. But they were only for Jean... and now he was gone. Without so much as a, “See ya later, kid.” Or... goodbye.

She dropped to her knees in front of the clawfoot tub, tucking a streak behind her ear and turned the taps, adjusting the temperature to just below scalding. Maybe she could wash the events of the day away. She poured in her favorite rosewater scented bubblebath and lit the ivory candles scattered around her tub and counter, flipping off the lights. As she went to dip her toes in to test the temperature she thought better of it and went an opened up the cabinet beneath her sink, pulling out a black tooled leather flask, a Cuban and a zippo she’d taken from Logan’s room when she’d found he’d ran. Hadn’t even taken the time to come back for his belongings. He’d just hopped on Scott’s Harley and peeled off down the driveway without looking back. Although, she supposed the bike belonged to no one now that Scott was... like everyone else...

She swallowed hard and bit back her tears, so much had happened recently. So quickly. Sniffling, she took a swig of the bourbon in the flask. It burned on the way down and settled to pool warm in her belly. She coughed a little, covered her mouth and set it on the marble table beside the tub along with the zippo and the Cuban. Rogue twisted off the tap.

She stepped in and let the water burn until she was numb to it, sliding down until she was submerged to her chin and felt her muscles start to relax a little.

*”You runnin’ again?”*

*”...You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of your powers.”*

*”Yeah, I do.”*

*”Ah wanna be able to touch people, Logan. A hug. A handshake... a kiss.”*

*”I hope you’re not doing this for some boy...”*

Logan’s voice echoed in her mind. The last words they’d ever spoken to each other. She’d wanted to reach for him. To tell him that she wasn’t doing this for some boy... but she’d been afraid. There had always been a definitive line in the sand, her affection dismissed as a simple school girl crush. But there had always been some tangible undefined bond between them that neither of them would delve into deciphering with a ten foot pole.

But that didn’t stop her from wishing it was his hard muscles twitching beneath her fingertips, his broad back she’d dug her nails in. Missing the stubble along the straight shot of his jaw that she’d been nibbling...

She imagined him dropping down next to her and gently spreading her legs apart, trailing his big rough hands ever so slowly down the apex of her thighs... she inhaled sharply at the contact and moved toward him, impelled involuntarily. The caress barely a whisper, leaving fire in its wake as he slipped down and gently stroked the soft core of her body. The mastery with which he massaged her sending currents of desire racing through her. She gasped in sweet agony as she welcomed him into her body.

Rogue let a moan escape between parted lips, hand lightly touching her hardening nipple. Waves of ecstasy throbbed through her as he pressed into her, drawing elicit sounds from her mouth with each pass, her hips rolling in response, her impatience growing to explosive proportions.

“Mmm, Logan...” she panted almost pleading.

Logan’s hand slid across her silken belly and out of the water. He traced his thumb across her lower lip and slowly descended to capture it with a growl...

“Logan. Mmmmm.”

Logan rummaged around his dresser, not bothering with the light. He wouldn’t be here long anyhow. He just needed to grab a few things before he put this place in his rear view mirror. For good this time. He’d waited at the local hole in the wall, trying to out drink his healing factor, until he was sure that everyone in the mansion was asleep. He couldn’t stand the pitying looks that were sure to follow him. And he sure as hell didn’t wanna talk about it. Any of it. He just wanted to get as far away from this place as he possibly could. Hell, it could burn for all he cared. He’d even light the match. He never wanted to come back here again. Not after...

“AAAGGHHHH! FUCK!” He swiped everything off of his dresser with a loud crash and shatter and a clang. He dragged his knuckles across his brow, lip curling and braced himself against the mahogany. Logan rammed the heel of his hand into it with bruising force. Where the hell was his zippo and his flask? It didn’t get up and fuckin walk away...


Fuck it. He didn’t need sentimental shit anyway. He grabbed his duffel & exited the room without bothering to close the door behind him. Fuck this place and everything in it. If he hadn’t been so caught up in his mood and paid the slightest attention he would’ve heard the footsteps approaching dangerously close around the corner he was rounding. As it was, he instinctively reached out and grabbed Storm’s arm in a vice like grip to steady her before she hit the floor.

“Ouch. Logan!” She flattened her palms against her thin cotton robe, pulling it tighter around her and pushed back a wayward strand of electric white hair. Tilting her head back, she peered at his face. She studied the bag slung over his shoulder.


He pushed past her, his dark face set in a viscous expression. That was exactly the look that he was avoiding. She placed her hand on his forearm. He spun around and snarled at her. Ororo jumped back but held her ground. She frowned, warm chocolate eyes level under her drawn brows. You don’t get to become an X-Men by being skittish. Logan’s nostrils flared in warning, his steel muscles tensing beneath her slender fingertips.

“We need you.” She whispered.

“Don’t.” He leaned forward, his rough voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality. A muscle flickered angrily at his jaw, his amber eyes flashing.

She paused for a moment and inclined her head in compliance. He yanked away from her and turned on his heel, not caring that he was headed in the complete opposite direction of the one he’d needed to be heading. He just had to get away. Right now.

“Rogue needs you.” Her tone was apologetic, but she said it with quiet emphasis like it was her last ditch effort. She sounded tired. They all were.

He heard her and froze. His face changed and became almost somber. His eyes narrowed and hardened and he readjusted his bag on his shoulder and made his way down the hallway with long, purposeful strides. Hell bent and hell bound. God help any other unsuspecting soul that got in his way.

Truthfully, Logan had no idea where he was going. He’d needed to go past Storm to get to the bike and his freedom, but he’d panicked. His fight or flight kicking in and he was afraid that if he’d delayed for one more second he would have started slashing.

That was what happened around him... people got hurt.

Before he knew it, he was striding past Rogue’s room. Not quite sure how he’d gotten there, Storm’s words niggling at the back of his mind. He growled. She was better off without him. They all were. It was better this way. ...this was how he did right by her.

Logan turned to go back towards the garage, hoping Storm had long since vacated the corridor when he heard something quiet.

That sounded like his name...
Chapter End Notes:
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