 The CellBy jjblazer Rated R Summary: Broken hearts, iron bars. Notes: Squick Alert: non-consensual sex, age issues... Chapters Chapter 1 "Look, this is gonna happen. So don't fight me." It wasn't the first time they'd brought a woman to Logan's cell. They wanted his progeny. It was the entire purpose behind his capture, or so he thought. Mercifully, he didn't know just how much worse it would really get. The first few had been guards and belonged to the top secret quasi-military operation they had running here. And those women, firmly ensconced in the political agenda of this group, had complied willingly enough, though he hadn't. At first. But succumbing to what was offered him, and sex being an escape, if only fleetingly, from this hell he was imprisoned in, he had taken them. Hard. Hoping to hurt them. And hating himself more and more after each time. They'd found yet a new way to use him, torture him. They had stolen his past, destroying his memory. Now they wanted his future, too. His child. But the girl now cringing on the sleeping platform in his cell, naked but for a metal collar around her neck and scared out of her mind, was different than the others. Seeing the collar, like the one they'd slapped on him when he was first brought here, before starting the drug regimen that now kept him under their control, he realized she was a mutant, too. And that made her as much a victim here as he was. And he knew that she didn't want to have anything to do with him. At all. His rage at being expected to perform yet again, for he was well aware that they watched these proceedings carefully, had caused him to grab her and fling her to the floor the minute they had shoved her inside with him. Chest heaving with torment, his helplessness shoved in his face yet again, he roughly pulled her to her feet and raged into her face. "I'm not doin' it again! Not this time!" And he shoved her onto the sleeping platform, where she sat curled up into the corner by the wall, fear rolling off her in waves and looking at him with wide scared eyes. He backed into the farthest corner of his cell then, away from her, as realization struck as to the situation here. Really looking her over, seeing the collar, he knew she wasn't part of 'them'. She was probably a runaway, snatched off the street. Finding out she was a mutant, they had brought her here for their little breeding program. Held her in captivity until they knew she was at the precise point in her cycle to be impregnated. And then they had dumped her in here. With him. So - what - they expected him to just rape her? They apparently did. 'Cause she sure wasn't here willingly. As this dawning awareness slowly sank in, watching her scared face, he finally lost it, despair robbing him of strength, and he slid down the wall, crumpled in a heap of abject misery on the floor. No more. Please God, no more. Why didn't they just overload him on the drugs and kill him? At this point, it would be a blessing. They expected him to throw away what little he had left, with which he could still call himself a man - to turn into that animal he suspected he really was, just under the surface. The beast inside him that he always fought so hard to keep in check. He raised his head, and watched her for a while, the hopelessness of the situation finally setting in. Knowing they had no choices here, that they might just kill her if he didn't do this, as her usefulness to them would instantly disappear if he wouldn't take her, he finally got up and stalked over to her. He reached and pulled her from the corner she was cowering in, yanking her by a wrist up onto her knees against his chest, barely able to restrain his rage at the plight they were in. And in a tight, broken voice, told her, "Look, this is gonna happen. So don't fight me." He didn't want to hurt her any more than he had to. She didn't make a sound, just held herself as still as possible when he seized her by her arms in an iron grip. But he could feel her trembling. And that stopped him. Even knowing the situation, what they might do to her, he still couldn't make himself just - just force her, and he knew that's exactly what he'd have to do. He released her, hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes got even wider, if that were possible, seeing him start to take his clothes off. He held the shirt out to her. "Here. Put this on." And he turned away. She didn't know what he was doing, but the offering of something to cover herself with made a spark of hope flare. She took the shirt and quickly put it on. It came down almost to her knees, the sleeves miles too long. She hastily rolled them up a bit, to free her hands. He heard a timid grateful voice, almost a whisper. "Thanks." He turned around to look at her then, relieved that she was at least covered up. They just looked each other over for a time, trying to come to terms with this nightmare they'd found themselves in. "How'd you get here?" he finally asked her. She looked down at her hands, not able to meet his eyes. Having settled back down on her heels, tugging at the shirttails nervously, she said "Guess I accepted the wrong ride." And she snuck a peek up at him, wondering why he even wanted to know. Was he stuck here, too? He had a dogtag around his neck, but maybe he wasn't a part of this group, these crazies that had snatched her off the side of the highway. That must be it. Why else would he hesitate to just rape her? They'd told her what they wanted from her, what they expected. And if she refused, well, there was always a body bag ready with her name on it. The world was full of runaways. They could just go get themselves another one. He reached a hand to her face, turning it up to him. "Did they tell you why you were here?" The gentleness of his touch surprised her, but she pulled away just the same. "Yes." And her eyes fled from his face, looking anywhere but at him. Looking her over, realizing she was awfully young, maybe 16 or 17 at the most, and sickened by what he was even thinking, he asked her, "You ever done this before?" She just shook her head rapidly 'no', keeping her face averted. She heard a strangled 'oh, fuck', and a sigh of frustration, and he sank down to sit on the edge of the sleeping platform next to her, hunched forward, hands dangling over his knees. He was apparently just as lost here as she was. Not knowing what to do, she said "Well, I suppose it's better than being dead." His eyes shot to her face, the bitterness reflected there making her cringe away from him. "Sorry," she whispered. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that." He looked away, running a hand thru his hair, his mind in turmoil. "Look, we've got maybe 30 minutes. That's all the time they've ever given me before. But they've never tossed anyone in here who wasn't, uh, willing. You understand what I'm sayin'?" She just looked at him, unsure how to respond, so she didn't say anything. "I know you don't want to do this. 'I' don't want to do this. But if I don't, there's a damn good chance they may just kill you. And before they do, there's an even better chance that they'll have a go at you." He paused, hardly able to get the words out. "All of them." His eyes drilled into her, willing her to understand. "It's me or them. What's it gonna be?" She looked at him, those dark, intense eyes, and started to shake. Hearing it all laid out in such stark terms was terrifying. But finding her voice, finally, not knowing how, she whispered, "You." Knowing it wasn't acquiescence, but taking it for that nonetheless, for he really didn't have any choice, he stood up and started to tug open his fly. The actual fact of this happening hit her full force then, and she reached up, placating hands placed lightly on his chest. "Please. Please - " Not sure even what she was trying to say. He grabbed her hands in his, and pressed one to his mouth. "It's gonna be ok. It's gonna be ok, I'll try - I'll try not to hurt you too much." Tears spilled down her cheeks, silently, and she just nodded. She was no longer looking at him, and when he released her hands to pull off his jeans, she scrambled away from him, back across the thin mattress that passed for a bed. He followed her, forcing her onto her back, hovering over her, then shifted to rest on his side. Taking himself in his hand, he began stroking, to ready himself, for though he was semi-erect, the presence of a half naked female affecting him whether he wanted it to or not, he wasn't anywhere near ready to just plunge into her. He watched her sneak a look down his body, to see what he was doing. And, God help him, that excited him like he hadn't thought possible. Knowing she had never seen a man like this before, knowing he was going to be the first to have her, even under these dreadful conditions, that knowledge inflamed the animal inside him, and a wave of pure lust flooded him. The issue had abruptly become a struggle with restraint, rather than one of forcing himself to do this to her. Huskily, he commanded, "Shirt. Unbutton it." She reached to comply, but her fingers shook so badly that she could hardly manage it. Seeing her trembling hands, he focused somewhat, and letting go of himself, reached to help her open the shirt. He paused, looking up into her face. He swallowed, hard, tried again to offer reassurances. "It's gonna be ok." He knew she didn't believe him, not for a second. The sudden flare of the animal in him faded a bit, and he found himself letting his head droop onto her shoulder. The self-loathing he felt was crushing. When he felt her tentatively run her fingers thru his hair, then wrap her arms around him, cradling his head to her, he thought he was just gonna die. Here he was, about to take her by force, and she was offering him comfort? He didn't think he could stand it. This gesture of acceptance from her flat broke his heart. God, he was shaking like a leaf. And she knew, this time, it wasn't from out and out lust, as it had been just moments before. He was tortured with regret by what he was being forced to do. That he could even care enough, to consider her, brought up in sharp relief how much of a victim he was in this situation. Just as much as she was. And she didn't want this to go badly for him, either. Why she cared in the least was something she had no hope of understanding. This man was a complete and total stranger, and he was about to rob her of her innocence. That he didn't have a choice still didn't change the fact that she ought to be scared to death of him. But, unaccountably, suddenly, she wasn't. Holding him to her calmed her enormously, and as she realized she may very well soon be carrying this man's child, she wanted more from him than just his seed. She wanted at least a tiny bit of his heart, as well. Tugging at his hair, pulling his face up to look at her, she asked, "Who are you?" Blinking at her, stunned by her seeming understanding of the situation, of him, he finally choked out one word. "Logan." She considered him for a moment. "Is that a first or a last?" She saw his eyes dull with misery, and he said simply, "I dunno." It was what 'they' called him. He didn't know if it was really his own name or not. He couldn't remember. Oh God. What had they done to him? How long had he been here? Seeing her horrified look, her puzzlement, he turned away, unable to look at her any longer. "It don't matter." The defeat in his voice made her heart ache for him. And she said, "Logan. Would you - would you at least kiss me first? Please?" He just looked at her. He didn't think he wanted to do that. They ought to keep this as clinical as possible, and just get it over with. And was gonna tell her so. But found his eyes locked on her mouth, her beautiful, full mouth, and he lowered his head, only to turn away at the last moment to nuzzle at her cheek. "Baby, let's just get this over with, ok?" Yeah, he was right. The sooner they were done with this the better. "Um, what do you want me to do? 'Cause I don't really know...." He took her then, spooning her from behind, pulling the shirt up along her back. He thought it would be easier for her if she didn't have to look at him. An arm cushioning her head, he held her hand tightly, the one she had tried to cover her face with. The other he wrapped under the arm holding her around her waist. He nudged her knees up, curling her up into herself, and pushed between the delicate flesh at the tops of her thighs. Rubbing against her for only a short while, he moved the angle of his hips and thrust at her tight opening. She wasn't ready for this, she wasn't. Her flesh was hardly even moist. He brought up his hand, licking it with a generous dose of saliva, and reached down to slick himself, and not able to stand what he was doing, just wanting this over, he thrust into her. Once. Though barely inside her, she gasped, gripping even harder the hand she held by her face. He knew he was hurting her. He knew it. And there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He pushed against her, going a bit deeper, and she started to cry then, her body so tense she felt like coiled steel in his arms. He gave another sharp thrust, inside her all the way, and she cried out, unable to hide the pain from him any longer. And he stopped, hoping she could adjust somewhat to his invasion. She could feel his hot breath against her ear, feel the enormous tension in his muscles. She untangled her hand from under the arm gripping her like an iron bar across her middle, and reached back, placing a shaking hand on his hip, willing him to understand, to finish, please, just finish. Listening to his labored breathing, harshly panting against the side of her face, she tried to open herself to him and he began thrusting into her, short jabbing strokes at first, that became deeper, longer, as he went on. Hating himself for what he was doing, he tried to will his mind elsewhere, and just let the animal take over, to just let the pure physical sensations push him to completion. And with strangled grunts and a final cry seemingly torn from his soul, he shuddered against her, coming, coming hard, spilling into her. She could feel the tension drain away from him as he sagged against her body, burying his face into her hair. The initial sharp pain had faded, and his ejaculate inside her tight channel helped further ease the discomfort, the burning. He didn't pull out of her, just clung to her, shaking, and she thought she understood why he didn't move away. Her becoming impregnated was her best chance of survival. She squeezed his hand, hoping to communicate some kind of tolerance for what had just happened. But all it did was make him start to cry, choking into her hair, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, baby, I'm so sorry." Two guards entered then, and it was a struggle to separate them. They had turned to each other, arms clinging, not wanting to let the other go. Her hand became entangled in the chain around his neck and it broke, the dogtag clutched tightly in her hand as they drug her away. He never did learn her name. He never saw her again. Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
Disclaimer: Wolverine, Rogue, and the X-Men belong to Stan Lee, Marvel Entertainment, and 20th Century Fox. 'The Wolverine and Rogue Fanfiction Archive' is not intended as an infringement upon those copyrights. This site's layout/design, and all WRFA-related graphics are all Copyright © 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 WR.com and its contributors. All database functions are Copyright © 2003 EZ Archive and are not to be reproduced elsewhere. Wolverineandrogue.com and the WRFA are owned and maintained by Devil Doll.
|