Her mind was fuzzy this time, heartbeat erratic with the sudden interruption to her desperately needed sleep. She’d barely had time to shed her cotton sleep clothes and take her place by the door before it whooshed open. Her lowered eyes were able to see two pairs of feet. The sharply shined shoes of a handler, and the more familiar soft brown leather boots of Logan.
Her eyes widened in shock as her sleep-starved brain recognized his presence. He was here. Again. Why?
“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Hudson,” the handler murmured as he stepped back to allow Logan to enter her room.
Just like last time, the door had slid quietly behind him as he stepped inside. She hadn’t even had to perform her trick. He must have paid upfront, and specifically asked for her. It wasn’t unheard of. But it was uncommon.
She stepped back as he approached, still not daring to look at his face. Instead focusing on his choice of clothing. Same brown boots, but a different pair of jeans - these ones were black. He had a tight-fitted black t-shirt with a black leather jacket she’d never seen before. She tried to amuse herself with thoughts of how sweaty he must be in that thing tonight, given how hot it was outside. She peered up at him for a moment and blinked. Any amusement she could have felt vanished. His clothing. His entrance. There was a violence in the air tonight. The promise of the thunderstorm outside was realized inside her room.
Rogue sucked in a breath at the sudden and unexpected feeling of tingling as the inhibitor function of her collar was switched off. Logan tossed the tablet onto the bed and backed her against the wall beside it. He only had a few moments before her mutation would kick in fully, and he grasped both hands and shoved them roughly above her head as he crowded close to her and slammed his lips against hers.
The connection opened slowly, sluggishly. What used to be a rush of thoughts and memories was now sloppy and drunk in comparison. She couldn’t help but kiss him back as the pull slowly deepened between them.
...goddamn reckless idiot...
Rogue blinked at the sudden foreign thought in her mind. Logan broke the connection just as quickly as he’d started it and grabbed for the control pad to reinstate the inhibitor function. His chest was heaving as he stared down at the pad in his hands.
She was slightly stunned at this abrupt turn of events. She tried to catch her breath as she looked up at him, questioningly. Why was he here again? What was he doing?
His eyes were dark and unreadable as he stared back at her. They did nothing but breathe for several seconds. And then. He tapped a series of buttons on the pad again and Rogue sucked in another breath as the collar buzzed once more, allowing her mutations to surface.
He pressed her back against the wall again, this time stroking the inside of one wrist with his thumb while taking her mouth in his. The kiss was fierce. Possessive.
“How many times have you been engaged since I last saw you?” he asked quietly against her neck.
...Fuck...why does she have to taste so good?…
The overlapping of the questions confused her. The sensuous feeling of his mouth against hers distracted her.
The only way she could answer was with her body. She kissed Logan back, hard. Slicked her tongue against his, reveling in the sudden sparking of warmth inside her, relishing the sound of a growl in his chest signaling his approval...But then, an influx of thoughts forced her to break their contact as she wrestled with the firehose of Other she’d been forced to absorb.
...the fuck was she thinking?
...Fuck. Yes. That noise in her throat…
...fuckin’ goin’ off half-cocked…
...scent of her...jesus fuck…
...comin’ into a place like this...
...need more....
...no fuckin’ back up…
...feel her slick heat again…
Logan grappled for the control pad again, and in another moment, the voices had vanished. The connection was shut off as the buzz of the collar activated the inhibitor function once again.
“How many times?” he asked in a rough voice.
Rogue shook her head slightly, trying to remember what he was talking about. It hadn’t been just words. She’d gotten the full dose of anger and arousal he’d been feeling. A wild darkness was in there too, which she thought might have been Wolverine. “Wh-what?” she stammered back.
“How many times,” Logan repeated as he grabbed her left arm holding it up to her face, “have you been engaged?”
She was shaking with the realization of what he was asking her. The marks on her arm didn’t signify how many engagements she’d had. There were a mark of how many Parades she’d been forced to participate in. The idea that he thought they signified how many people she’d been forced to engage with, was infuriating to her.
“One,” she said through clenched teeth. She didn’t care what the handlers would do to her. She couldn’t stand the possessive tone of his voice, the jealousy he was displaying. He had no fucking right to feel that way. She was the one who had sacrificed everything to be here. Her freedom. Her choice. Her fucking privacy and her power. Fuck him for his jealousy.
A low ominous growl sounded from deep in his chest. “One since I was here?”
“No,” she responded ripping her hand from his grip. “One. Period.”
They stared at each other. The anger she was feeling was blazing from her eyes. And if she’d had her full strength, she would have thrown him through the wall, hoping he got some goddamn sense knocked into him by the time he hit the street four stories below.
“Fuck,” he said in a low voice. “Fuck!” Louder this time. “Here,” he said as he stretched out the hand with the control pad.
Rogue shook her head at once. They weren’t allowed to touch the pad. Even if a patron offered it to them. Unless he was able to stop the handlers from seeing what he was trying to do, she couldn’t risk it. “I can’t,” she replied simply to his gesture.
He closed his eyes in frustration. Like he was remembering the rules of what they could and couldn’t do. He let his hand fall back to his side in resignation as he nodded. “What about...” he paused and stared at her for a moment. “What if you tell me when to turn it on.”
She frowned, not sure if she understood his meaning. He read the confusion on her face and answered without prompting.
“I want you to tell me when to turn it on,” he said holding up the pad, “and when to turn it off.”
The possibilities of that power swirled in her head. She could control it, or at least as much as she was allowed to control it. But still. It would mean that he couldn’t have come in here again without understanding the consequences of doing so. He was staring hard at her. Willing her to do something.
He’d turned off the inhibitor function of her collar. Why? Not to have her be completely free. No. If he wanted that, he would have sliced through her collar with one swift movement of his claws last week.
His thoughts.
He was trying to tell her something. Trying to tell her without being caught by the handlers. Maybe he’d found Jubilee. Found out where she was, or something about her.
She smiled back at him, finally understanding what he wanted.
“Finally caught on, didja?” he asked her lightly.
Her face fell. Realizing how they were going to have to do this, how she was going to get the information he needed to pass along. It wasn’t like the first time had been...unpleasant. On the contrary, it had been good. Too fucking good. It had also been too real. For both of them. And now he was asking her to do it again? Fuck. This was the worst fucking mission she’d ever been on.
He saw the change in her expression, and he ran one hand through his hair, demonstrating for just a moment, his own vulnerability. “Fuck. I know,” he said quietly.
She closed her eyes briefly in resignation. But even then. She couldn’t say that some part of her wasn’t looking forward to it again. She’d had limited experiences in the past. Nothing had ever been so damn good. Maybe things would be okay between them, if she ever got out of this hellhole.
Rogue opened her eyes and nodded at him. Once again giving her permission the only way she could.
She saw the noticeable change in him. If she’d said no, he would’ve gotten them both the hell outta there. But she’d said yes. And that meant at least a part of her was willing. His face became more predatory, fiercer, harder. She felt the first thrill of anticipation warm her insides, and she saw him inhale, greedily. She wondered if he had to shut off a part of his brain in order to proceed with what he was doing. Did he let the feral creature inside loose? So he wouldn’t have to face her with his more human side?
He started a slow stalking toward her. She couldn’t help but take a few steps back. The look in his eyes was startlingly intense. And she suddenly felt more than naked. She felt raw. Exposed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe she should just get the hell out of here. Maybe…
No.
She couldn’t. Jubilee was still out there.
She stopped the backward motion of her bare feet. Her chin rose, a bit defiantly, and she met his eyes, dead on.
His eyes narrowed at the challenge she was presenting. But he should know better. Someone as strong as her wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Turn ‘round,” he rasped in a hoarse voice.
She glared back at him in unspoken protest. Oh, if he’d said that to her like that, in any other time, any other place, she’d have a fucking field day as she separated the adamantium from his ancient-ass bones. But she didn’t have that luxury here, didn’t have the strength of her mutation to fall back on. Here and now she could only do what she was allowed.
Glaring the entire time, she slowly pivoted on her feet until her back was to him. She stared at the wall. Waiting for her next instruction. She was utterly conscious of every inch of her exposed skin. Her hair was loose, hanging freely midway down her back, stopping at the curve of her waist.
He had slowed his breathing. She couldn’t make it out anymore, didn’t know where he was.
“Close your eyes.”
Fuck. She couldn’t help the slight jerking of her body at the unexpected words. Had he moved closer?
She let her eyes flutter closed and swallowed as she tried to listen for where he was in relation to her body. Her hands were curling and relaxing at her sides, she was unable to still them. He must have noticed.
“Put yer hands on the wall. Palms down.”
A chill ran through her. He was definitely closer now. There was some sort of energy in the air she couldn’t define. Was it the power struggle between them? The forced hierarchy between them? Or was it something much simpler? Desire. Lust. Want. Need. Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was the fact that usually Rogue held the upper hand between them. She was stronger, faster, and deadlier than Logan. Sure, he could heal. But she couldn’t bleed. Well. Normally. She could kill him if she wanted. But not here. She’d been stripped down to her most basic and basest self.
She moved her arms up and stretched her fingers, feeling for the smooth edge of the wall. She had to take a few small steps forward until she could comfortably rest her palms on the wall. The position forced a small arch in her spine, and she knew he’d noticed it by a quickly and quietly muttered, “Fuck.”
He couldn’t see her face, so she let a small smile play out on her lips. But then. Oh. Christ. What was that? The smile vanished as she reveled in the sudden warm sensation of his fingers sliding upward from the dimples at her hips, following the hollow of her spine, sliding beneath her long curtain of hair, curving around her left to splay across her stomach. What the fuck was that?
She inhaled sharply, not knowing where his hands would go next. She hadn’t known he was so close to her. And now, she could feel the warmth of him at her back. Could hear the creaking of the leather jacket being slipped off. She felt her breath increasing as she began to anticipate what was coming. He must have scented a change in her chemistry. Recognized the excitement she was beginning to feel. She had to remember that ultimately, despite what the cameras and the handlers and the collar consistently told her, she was still in charge here. Logan had wanted her to be in charge of the inhibitor function. And she would be.
“Off,” she whispered without warning. If he was going to touch her again, she wanted to know what he was thinking. If he had any information on Jubilee.
“What?” his voice was rough, confused. Like he was shaking himself out of something.
She knew she could speak again. It was part of the rules he’d established by asking her to tell him to do something. “The inhibitor. Off.”
She heard a low growl of disapproval, something she thought he might not be able to prevent, but she heard him grasping for the tablet, and a moment later, the tingling started to run down her body.
He didn’t touch her immediately. He waited. She could hear him. Watching her. Could hear his boots on the floor moving back and forth. She couldn’t help the slight movements of her head as she followed the sound of him at her back. Left. Pause. Center. Right. Pause. Left. Center. Pause…
She was utterly conscious of her skin, her hair, her body. And then. There. She felt it. The strength. Oh, fuck, she’d missed that. What was he doing letting the collar go off this long and not touching her yet? Her skin was bursting with the need to touch something, like it was hungry, voracious after being caged for so long. Her muscles flexed, wanting to test their strength. To break something.
It happened then. When she was distracted by the feelings of her powers. He’d come up behind her silently and moved both hands along hers, up her arms. He tried to maintain a light touch, tried not to let her skin get the better of him, but she felt the second he realized her skin was fully on.
...Didn’t want to hurt you…
...Can’t help myself…
...Was so fuckin’ pissed…
...Fuck, I can smell her…
...Worried…She’s so fuckin’ strong...shit...
“On!” She ground out as she felt his thoughts and mutation start to flood into her. She jerked away from him slightly and felt him waver until he realized what she was asking.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That hurts.”
She willed him to understand the danger of this. As much as she was starting to realize that she wanted him, there was still too much at stake for either of them to get lost in their current circumstances.
He didn’t apologize. Not with words. He came up behind her, took her hands from where they rested on the wall, and placed them at her sides. “Move yer hands however you want,” he whispered. “Open yer eyes if you want.”
She felt herself turned inside the circle of his arms, his hands resting on her hips, and met his eyes with hers. Just like last time, there were too many emotions for her to name. There was an apology in there. But a hunger too. Maybe he was struggling, like her, with the line they’d been forced across. She wouldn’t know for sure unless they proceeded. She raised her chin, his eyes moved to her lips. And she was gone.
Last time had been timid at first. Slow, but unexpectedly fulfilling. This time it was raw and explosive. Grasping and grabbing, trying to get as close to the other as possible. He growled into her mouth as he grasped her thighs to lift her. She wrapped her legs around his torso, and hated the clothes he had on. He thumbed her breast while she tried to rip the black t-shirt over his head, and she couldn’t help the moan that slipped her lips when he used his tongue to run over the column of her throat, nipping at her in warning to stay still. She flexed her hips against his and felt a rumble of approval in his chest. “Off,” she managed to mutter, trying to stay somewhat present.
He reached out blindly for the pad, broke his lips away from her neck and pushed the button to turn off the inhibitor. Her whole body was tingling now, in combination from the sheer number of times it had been thrown into chaos from the inhibitor, and the sensations he was causing. Ran her hands down the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen looking him in the eye while she did so. She didn’t think she could focus if he kissed her again. Not with the inhibitor off.
Come on, she thought violently. What do you know?
He closed his eyes for a moment as he too tried to focus on the relevant thoughts to transfer instead of the blazing sensations between them.
...Hank...makin’....
...fuck, needta be inside her…
...goddammit! Hank’s makin’ a device…
...once wasn’t enough...never felt anything so fuckin’ good…
...to help us talk...without…
...skin...so fuckin’ powerful...smooth…
...contact…Don’t know...Jubilee...
She understood. Hank was making a piece of tech to allow them to talk freely without the fear of being overheard. Nothing about Jubilee. Not yet. She flexed her hips at him as she tried to grab his attention again. “On,” she whispered in his ear, following it with a firm stroke of her tongue against the outer shell.
“Oh, christ,” he said as he flung the pad away from him and grabbed her hips, rocking her into him. She could feel how hard he was through the jeans, and the devil inside her made her roll her hips again, feeling the ridge of hardness right...there.
He growled at her, full on, and tossed her onto the bed. He stared at her as he reached down to kick off his boots and undo the silver belt buckle at his jeans. She watched him, eagerly, breathing hard with anticipation. Her body was warm, ripe, wet. She wanted him. Badly.
She’d seen his body before. But she’d never really appreciated it. His muscles bunched and flexed as he stripped off his jeans, every line held taut with restrained need. Something deep inside her was waking up as she watched him, as he slowly came closer to her. Something wild. Raw. Hungry.
Something inside him must have recognized her need, because he took the last few steps toward her and shoved her back on the bed, a low rumble coming from his chest. He knelt on the bed in front of her, the frame creaking slightly under his weight, and brought one hand up to her chest to lean her back into the pillows. He moved swiftly, kneeling on either side of her hips, moving his head down to trace her sternum with his tongue while cupping one breast. She arched into him, feeling the heat and hardness of him. So close. It would be so easy to shift her leg, arch her hips…
“Ohhh,” she moaned unexpectedly as he moved to flick his tongue against her nipple, letting it pearl inside his mouth before running his teeth along the tip. Her hands grasped at whatever they could reach; the pillow at her head, the comforter, his arm. There was a hollow feeling inside her. Hot and empty. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.
He looked up her then, a lock of hair falling over his eyes and she savored that wildness she could see emanating out. A feral grin crossed his face and then he did something unexpected. He rolled off her hips, grabbed her by the waist, and hoisted her easily so she was on top, straddling him, legs on either side of him, inches away from getting what they both wanted.
He was still leaving it up to her. Letting her call the shots. There was a moment where their eyes met, and they recognized what the other needed. And then, she took what she wanted. Moved her hand to guide him, arched her hips. And let out a raw groan of sheer pleasure as he became fully seated inside her.
She became lost in sensation, the darkness of pleasure, the feeling of doing something...just slightly wicked.
No, she thought as he reached up to thumb her nipples and thrust hard at the same time. There was no slightly about it.
The slick heat. The friction. The smell of sweat and sex in the air. She knew he was holding himself back. Could see the wildness being restrained, the urge to dominate being checked with a tight chain. It drove her to move faster, deeper, grip his biceps in her hands to keep herself steady. It was important, she realized, for her to be the one in control. To let him have the upper hand, to be the one dictating her movements in this perilously intimate moment between them, may have completely ruined her. She clenched her inner muscles down hard as she rocked her hips upward.
“Ah, fuck,” he ground out between gritted teeth, and she threw her head in sheer unadulterated pleasure as she sought that wave that was building, moved her hips faster in search of the edge. He thrust back in time with her, sensing what was happening, and she realized sex must be so much more for him. The sounds and scents she could detect would be nothing to the complete inundation of physicality he would be feeling. It drove her faster, almost wishing she could experience what he was, to feel everything, see everything, smell everything. She felt the wave begin to crest and she almost screamed with the explosive raw pleasure that sparked through her center like lightning. He too began to come, pumping his hips erratically into her, pushing back off the mattress to grab her close, biting hard at the junction of her neck and shoulder, the slight pain of which spread down her body to join in the throbbing aftershocks of her orgasm. She could feel the warmth of his pleasure seeping out of her, and sighed deeply she slid off him and collapsed onto the bed.
There was no sudden shock of shame this time. They had both wanted this. Needed this. And he lay back next to her, running a hand through his hair, breathing hard.
“Jesus fuck,” he said quietly.
This wasn’t a situation in which she should laugh. She was deep undercover. In a dangerous situation, nearly in over her head.
But she did. She felt a small snort of laughter escape her and he slid one hand up her thigh and gave it a playful slap.
And then, she didn’t know how it was possible, but she slipped into the deepest sleep she’d had in two months.
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