Don't Let Me Catch You by Corinne
Summary: Set in X-men: Evolution.

Logan is frustrated with life at the Institute, but as he gets to know the Rogue he starts seeing that life there isn't nearly as boring as he'd thought.

Each chapter inspired by my one of my favorite bands of all time: Nine Inch Nails. Can't think of better music to describe Rogue or Logan. P.S. I'm a comment whore, feed the beast!!!
Categories: X-Men Evolution Characters: None
Genres: Adult, Angst, Dark, PWP, Shipper, Songfic
Tags: None
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 9 Completed: No Word count: 32987 Read: 62426 Published: 09/28/2009 Updated: 11/03/2009
Story Notes:
Four chapters, I've already gotten them all plotted out, just need a day or so to write each one, so this should be finished within the week.

Set in X-men: Evolution universe. I've just always found the Goth!Rogue and Logan with a crooked nose look and their voices from the series really enticing and hot.

Warning: non-con, drugs.

NC-17 rating justified in last and 4th chapter.

1. All the Love in the World & The Hand that Feeds by Corinne

2. Wish by Corinne

3. Suck by Corinne

4. Closer by Corinne

5. No Song by Corinne

6. The Closet by Corinne

7. Leech by Corinne

8. Reptile by Corinne

9. The Great Destroyer by Corinne

All the Love in the World & The Hand that Feeds by Corinne
Author's Notes:
Logan is frustrated at Institute life and hunts down a rule-breaker b/c he's bored.

First chapter doesn't contain any of the bad stuff that the rating and warning reflect, it'll get nastier with each chapter. P.S. I am a comment whore, feed the beast!!!
Logan glared down at the institute grounds from his window, slowly smoking down his cigar. Stupid mission, what a waste. Why did they even need him there? There was no fight, no FoH bastards, hell not even slimy Toad had bothered to show up to mess with a skinny 11 old kid who could change the TV channel by blinking his eyes…oh, and he never sleeps. What kind of power was that…super insomnia? That seriously had to be the lamest mutation he’d ever heard of. Maybe his parents just wanted a decent night’s sleep or to keep the damn set on ESPN instead of Nick Toons for once when they left him behind at the state fair.

Why’d Storm even dragged him along? Wolverine had been salivating for a good fight for a few weeks; this life of enforced domesticity didn’t sit well with him for long periods of time. He scrubbed one hand over his face and snorted his disgust. He was going to have to come up with something to entertain himself with b/c late night sessions in the DR just weren’t cutting the tension anymore and being cooped up in Mutant High was working his last nerve. The fight scene wouldn’t start up again for months and semester break was 7 weeks away.

Fuck, how did I ever get roped into being a teacher for fuck’s sake?

It was bad enough he had to tone down his training regimen because Storm and Chuck through he was being too hard on the kids, then his classes started turning into a daily soap opera with all the teenage mutant angst roiling through the rooms. Scott liked Jean but she’s clueless and still with that Duncan meathead, Kurt was trying his damndest to impress Kitty who was freaked out by his blue fur, tail, and penchant for literally popping out of nowhere unexpectedly and usually hanging upside down from said freaky tail, Boom Boom alternated between here and the Brotherhood shack generally driving everyone fucking nuts with the explosions she used to punctuate every sarcastic remark. Then there was Rogue-oh-i'm-so-Goth-do-i-have-enough-black-eyeliner-on-or-do-i-need-to-get-a-sharpie. The original Miss Bitter Britches. She even out grumped Logan most days, especially in the morning. Why the fuck did she stick around if she hated all of them so much?

Oh yeh, because she had nowhere else to go.

Sucks, don’t it? Logan thought to himself.

Ok, he had places to go, but nothing to do once he got there except the same boring shit he’d done for the last 15 years: eat, fight, fuck, over and over. Nothing new, same shit, different town. At least here he got to go on missions…well, REAL missions…once in a while and tangle with some real baddies who actually lasted more than 20 seconds against him. And the free grub and roof over his head weren’t bad. Just annoyingly comfy, like he was getting domesticated and Wolverine in him chafed at that idea. It felt like the luxury and ease of this privileged life Chuck had dropped him in more and more often tightened around his neck like a choke collar on a surly dog, cutting off his ability to breath and reminding him he wasn’t free, never had been even before he got here.

Logan took another draw of his cigar and just for spite tipped the ash onto the carpet of his room and ground it in with his boot.

What he wouldn’t do for some fucking action, a little excitement, hell he’d even settle for Buckethead showing up right now to play twister with his bones. Goddamn, he was bored.

Just when he was about to toss the last stub of his stogie down to the driveway and look for another fucking hockey game to watch he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, along the wall of the mansion. Someone’s breaking curfew he sighed as he watched two feet, followed by two legs slide backwards out a window two floors down and to his right. The sneak lowered themselves from the window, dangling from their fingertips from the second story window before dropping quietly to the ground. The half moon slunk from behind a cloud and he caught a flash of white on the rule breaker’s head.

The Rogue. Long sigh. Of course.

She crouched down, looked right then left, slid a few paces into the driveway then turned to look back at the mansion just as Logan slipped back from his window and out of her sight. Satisfied she hadn’t been seen she turned, slung a heavy backpack over her shoulder and took off at a quick run towards the forest bordering the western edge of the grounds.

Running again? Shit, this is getting old.

Logan briefly contemplated waking Storm or Chuck to let them know she was making another break then dismissed it. Although Storm was better at the whole “You’re wanted here, we’re your friends Rogue” bullshit, Logan wasn’t interested in handling her with kid gloves in his current mood. She was a stubborn little bitch who needed some rough handling sometimes; knock some sense into that spooky little head of hers. He’d track her down, drag her back, then stick her in the Danger Room for a few hours so she could work out whatever shit was sticking in her craw this time. Every time she got mad she took off, usually not too far, but sometimes she managed to get gone for a few days, long enough to work Chuck up into a nice lather of worry before she showed up again, acting like nothing had happened and snarling when she got grounded…which usually made her sneak out again just to spite everyone.

So he followed her. Damn, she’s hauling ass he thought after the second mile passed under his jogging feet as he tracked her through the woods. Something must’ve really gotten her good and pissed off if she was running this hard. Suddenly, her scent took a sharp left turn and he followed it. After another mile he could tell she’d slowed. He did also, slipping into his innate stealth mode to creep up so she couldn’t hear him and take off again. After another fifteen minutes he heard her. She’d stopped in a clearing where the trees thinned around a stream that fed to the river that eventually lead to the town’s reservoir. She’d stopped running.

Oh for fuck’s sake he groaned inwardly at the sight of her about 20 yards away, sitting on a rock with her back to him, sipping from a pint of whiskey. She wasn’t running, she’d fucking snuck out to get drunk. Logan turned to go back to the mansion, satisfied he’d see her in the morning, most likely hungover. He stopped when he heard music. Turning, he saw Rogue poking at one of those little stereos you plug into your mp3 player she pulled from her backpack. She was scrawling through something that sounded like cats being strangled with piano wire before settling on one song and cracking the volume up. She started nodding to the music and just to round out the rule breaking she lit a cigarette.

He rolled his eyes. Same rebellion, different teenagers. Ain’t’ nothing original anymore?

She stood up and stretched, rolled her neck and hips in time with the music. She was wearing dark grey jeans with the rips at the knees and that purple wrap top she always seemed to wear like damn armor, even though it showed plenty of the dangerous bare skin of her shoulders, almost like she taunted the world with a glimpse of poison, giving it the middle finger with every inch of white deadly skin no one in their right mind would touch.

Logan leaned forward listening; he’d never heard music like this. It wasn’t rock, country, or any other thing he’d heard before. It seemed to fit her, just exactly. Quiet at first, just drums and a raspy voice with nasty edge to it.

Watching all the insects march along
Seem to know just right where they belong


She raised her arms over her head, drawing patterns in the air with the trail of smoke from her cigarette. She turned as she danced and he slid into the shadow of the trees to watch from the dark, slitting his eyes to watch her. Her face scrunched a bit as she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself at the next lines.

Smears of face reflecting in the chrome
Hiding in the crowd I'm all alone


Her head dropped, hands balled into fists at her sides, before she spun hard and kicked at a rock at the stream’s edge, sending it splashing into the water. Her arms tensed and bent at the elbows as she pulled them to her fast and swung her hips to the side hard as the hard edged voice from the stereo moaned again. She kicked more rocks, viciously, almost stumbling as she skirted the edge of the stream, sliding on the edge, the rattle of stones a counterpoint to the slow winding up of the singer’s razor sharp voice.

No one's heard a single word I've said
They don’t sound as good outside my head


Hands clutched at her hair and she rocked backwards and forwards at the waist, feet moving in an angry circle, stamping, sliding, like she was fighting with herself.

It looks as though the past is here to stay
I've become a million miles away...


Arms flung out, gloved fingers spread wide, face tilted up at the half moon and smudge of stars, eyes still closed, face still twisted with something that looked like pain and something more like rage. Logan crouched down in the shadows to watch her more closely. Her lips pulled back and she hissed along with the razor sharp voice gasping from the speakers, pure vitriol hung in the air, her voice sliding up his spine raggedly.

Why do you get all the love in the world?
Why do you get all the love in the world?


She spun in place, brought the cigarette to her lips for one last long slow drag before she flicked it into the water with what seemed like contempt then spun, her back to him again, and swung her hips as her hands came up and she rolled her bared shoulders. Logan held his breath as he watched the wrap top open and drop from her, many more inches of deadly skin now exposed in the cropped black tank top that had been hiding.

She wrapped gloved hands around a white, slim midsection, sliding them up in a solo embrace, fingers digging into her own ribs hard.

All the jagged edges disappear
Colors all look brighter when you're near


Her arms unwound and seemed to move with snakelike sinuousness through the air as she slowly circled them in around her bared torso, spiraling them inward like she was cradling something precious then out again, casting it away like it burned.

The stars are all a fire in the sky
Sometimes I get so lonely I could...


The pint appeared from her back pocket and she tipped it up and swallowed as she moved, hips winding and unwinding in torturously slow sways as the voice started calling insistently over and over, the music winding up with an electronic surge, spewing out venom and yearning as Rogue danced by herself.

Why do you get all the love in the world?
Why do you get all the love in the world?
Why do you get all the love in the world?


When the song was over she flopped back down on the grass by the stream, bent one leg at the knee and kicked the other one over it, bobbing it up and down as another song blared forth, grating, electric, angry. She pulled her knapsack under her head and lay against it as she took another sip of the pint. Logan was about to stand up and leave, his head full of the tortured of image Rogue dancing angrily by herself in the woods, when he saw her fish into her cleavage and bring out a rather skinny smoke. As she lit it then inhaled and held it for a long few second he knew that wasn’t a cigarette and his tolerance for her solo shenanigans reached its limit.

She was still bobbing one combat booted foot over her crooked knee when he reached down and plucked the joint from her hand. Her eyes snapped open, took in the scowling face of Wolverine upside down over her, and snarked in her raspy Southern drawl, “Come to spoil my good time?” Her dark purple lined eyes opened wide as she watched Logan take a long draw from the joint, hold it for an impressively long time, then leisurely blow smoke rings out. Then he handed the jay back to her.

He folded his legs under him and plopped down next to her head.

“Kid, don’t let me catch you doing this shit again,” he growled.

She raised her head up a few inches, took a long drag from the jay, held it for a bit, then blew a long lazy stream up at his face.

“You won’t catch me next time.” He nodded brusquely, then stuck his hand out for the joint. They passed the next two songs slowly polishing off what Logan noted was a particularly pungent strain of Purple Kush, before the spliff was down to only an ember. Rogue took it from him one last time, sat up, grinned in his face, stuck out her tongue and popped the roach onto it and ate it. He snorted in amusement.

“Why aren’t you busting my ass for sneaking out?” She stood up to fish the pint out of her back pocket to take a slug.

“How I about I bust you for drinking and getting high?” he growled at the casual way she smirked at him.

“Because you just got high too…aaaaaaand…” she held out the pint to him, tipping it back and forth, her eyes narrowed.

He snorted again and took the pint from her for a swig, then dropped it on the ground next to her backpack. “Why you out here? Besides the obvious getting fucked up?”

Rogue looked at him shrewdly for a moment before she shrugged, her bare shoulders rising and falling. She wrapped her arms around her waist, the first self-conscious move he’d seen her make since she’d gotten to the Institute. “I just wanted to get away from them,” and she jerked her head in the general direction of the mansion. “They tip-toe around me, it’s pissing me off.”

“Know how that is,” he grunted.

“What would you know what it’s like?” she spat, leaning over to pick up the pint.

He snarled and shot out 27 inches of adamantium in her face. She just laughed and pushed away the blunt side of his claws. “Yer not that scary.”

His eyebrow shot up as she pulled the claws back. “Oh, and you are?” he drawled sarcastically.

“To them I am,” she huffed, blowing a lock of platinum away from her eye. She plopped back down on the ground next to him, legs crossed Indian-style. “I scare myself too.” She rubbed her gloved hands up and down and bare arms and reached for the purple wrap top she’d discarded. He reached out and closed his bare hand over her leather clad one.

“You cold, kid?”

Rogue tugged against his grip. “No, I just don’t think it’s smart for me to have this much skin-“

“Forget it, I ain’t scared of you.” He dropped her hand, snagged to purple cloth and stuffed it in the bookbag. She shrugged, laid back with her head on the bag again and tipped the pint to her mouth before she handed it back to him to share.

They sat there for a while, listening to the next song. He lit another cigar and she another cigarette. He refrained from getting on her ass about lung cancer since she clearly had more immediate problems to worry about. Another song started and she sighed, muttering “This should be the Institute’s fight song,” foot bobbing in time with the pounding drums and guitars that wailed from the stereo, Wolverine slitting his eyes against the smoke and listening and watching her.

You're keeping in step
In the line
Got your chin held high and you feel just fine
Because you do
What you're told
But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

What if this whole crusade's
A charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
For the blood
On which we dine
Justified in the name of the holy and the divine

Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you wanna change it?

So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on

Just how deep do you you believe?
Will you stay down on your knees?
Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?
Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?

So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on

Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?


After the song was over, Logan handed back what was left of the pint and left her in the clearing, listening to songs about hopelessness and fury. That girl was fucked up. And a lot smarter than he’d realized.
End Notes:
Songs:
All the Love in the World
The Hand that Feeds
Both by Nine Inch Nails, the sexiest band ever
Wish by Corinne
Author's Notes:
Rogue lashes out. Wolverine sees why.
He was beyond fed up with his class this afternoon. The older teens were supposed to be practicing grappling and he’d had to practically claw the boys off the girls when he barked at them to partner up, having to frog march Scott over to Kurt and away from Jean. Now they were supposed to be doing judo on each other during a self-defense drill and Rogue was goofing off, not even trying. She kept running her mouth to her partner Kitty, then pretended to accidentally on purpose back into Scott while he was trying to wrestle with a the more agile Kurt, knocking both boys off balance and onto the mat, where she smirked down at them, then turned back to keep yammering with the other girl. When Jean neatly flipped Bobby over her hip, Rogue helped the boy up, then shoved him hard into Jean’s turned back knocking them both into a punching bag

“Rogue!” Wolverine barked and she cut her eyes at him, then turned back to Kitty and made a half-hearted attempt to block the smaller girl’s arm lock, let her arm be forced up into an awkward position behind her head, then simply stamped down on Kitty’s foot. The girl squealed and hopped away on one boot while Rogue flopped down on the mat and lazily laced her hands behind her head.

He stomped over to her prone form, the rest of the class stilling in their exercises to watch the Rogue and Wolverine face off.

“Get up!” he snarled, looming over her

She rolled her eyes and said, “Why? This is bullshit.” A collective gasp went through the room at her brazenness.

“I said UP!” and he reached down and grabbed her by the shoulder of her uniform, bunching it in his fist, and hauled her up roughly.

She snarled back at him and tried to twist out of his grip. “Let me go, you Neanderthal!”

“You’re going to pay attention and you’re going to do the damn exercise,” he hissed at her. “You need to learn to defend yourself if you’re going to join our team.” He shook her roughly by the uniform again.

“This is stupid. IF I wanted to joined your stupid team and IF I wanted to defend myself all I have to do is-" and she stripped off one glove. Before she could move further, Wolverine grabbed both her wrists in one of his leather gloved hands and hauled her arms roughly over her head, yanking so hard her feet temporarily left the floor.

She yipped in surprise and he bared his teeth in a mocking smile. “Uh-huh, and what are you going to do if you can’t free your hands?” he snorted. The rest of the class backed up; Wolverine in a mood like this was nothing to stand too close to. Rogue struggled impotently for a moment before she went a bit limp and dropped her head in defeat. Satisfied he’d made his point, Wolverine leaned forward and growled, “That’s what I tho-“

WHAM! Rogue snapped her head up, sharply cracking him on the chin which slammed his teeth together and into his tongue. Before he could react she smiled coldly then snapped her head forward and crashed her forehead into his nose. Her mutation lashed out like an electric whip and Wolverine went down like a bag of cement, knocked out in the tiny moment her bare face made contact with his skin.

For a moment she gaped down at her teacher’s prone form at her feet, and then she looked up and saw a dozen pairs of wide eyes starting at her. “What’re you looking at!?” she shouted and took off running to the door, the other students parting in front of her quickly.

“Mr. Logan? Mr. Logan?” Something was slapping his face. He growled and lurched up, causing Jean to levitate back suddenly. He shook his head and looked around at a gaggle of teenage mutant goggling down at him…plunked on his ass on the exercise mat where that little bitch had flattened him…in front of his class! He snarled, “Class dismissed!” and jumped up. The kids scattered before him as he stomped out of the gym, following the scent of the Rogue through the mansion, up the stairs and through the main foyer.

He started counting off the reasons in his head he could use to justify to Chuck why he stuffed a student in the garbage disposal.

One…she dicked around in my class one time too many.

Two…she sassed me in front of the students.

Three…she used her power on me. ME!
He grunted as he burst through the front doors oh the mansion, scanning for her scent, trying to follow the trail that probably lead to the woods again. But her scent didn’t head straight across the grounds to the forest but instead hung a sharp turn towards the back of the house. The garage.

Wolverine was running now. There was no way in hell, but he knew because he smelled it even before he rounded the last corner to the garage and saw the door open and an empty spot where the most precious thing in the world to him was supposed to me. The roar that echoed across the ground sent distant birds to flight and the students to cringe and scurry for the safety of their dormitories.

She’d taken his bike. Once he finished yelling, Wolverine pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation then again harder as he had to re-break and reset it after it had apparently healed crooked for the 17th time while he was out cold.

He sat in the garage for hours, smoking one cigar after another, contemplating various punishments, well really more like tortures. Lock her in the sub zero walk-in for a few hours, tie her upside down to a tree and throw a hornet’s nest at her, put sulfuric acid in her water bottle, take away her eyeliner, replace all her clothes with neon yellow, on and on he amused himself with more ridiculous ideas of how to make her suffer. But in the end he knew he was going to have to just try to ground her stupid ass and make her wash the X-jet or some other ridiculous shit that wouldn’t stick. None of his usual intimidation and threatening that sent other students cowering into corners even fazed her, like nothing he or anyone else did made a dent in her diamond hard facade.

The sun set long ago and it was deeply dark out, the new moon hidden. He finally heard a grumble of his bike from far away and he slunk back into the shadow of the modified Hummer, leaning against the side panel as he watched the pinpoint of the headlight turned up the driveway. He'd wait till she parked his beloved bike securely before he tried, most likely unsuccessfully, to scare the shit out of her. She didn’t event try to be quiet at all, seemingly too cocksure to even bother trying to sneak back onto campus with her stolen wheels. She screeched the bike to halt scant inches from Scott’s pinstriped Alfa Romeo and revved the engine loudly announcing the Rogue was back and didn't care who knew it. She was still wearing her uniform and a full face helmet, which she ripped off her head and shook her head hard, chin length deep brown and platinum lock falling into her face and away again. She kicked one leg over the bike as she shut it off and snagged a rag from the work bench next to her.

Wolverine was surprised as he watched her start to wipe down the bike, scuffing away road grime that had dulled the usually brilliant shine of the engine casing. She nodded her head absently and that was when he noticed the white cord peeking under her hair and snaking down to the stamp sized Shuffle she’d clipped to her waist.

This is the first day of my last days
I built it up now I take it apart


Rogue grimaced bitterly as she worked at a particularly stubborn piece of dirt wedged to the underside of the gas tank. She hadn’t meant to touch Wolverine like that, she’d just watched to make him let the fuck go of her, she’d hadn’t even been thinking.

Climbed up real high
Now fall down real far


And to look around and see everyone staring at her like she was some sort of monster, goddamnit. She was a freak among freaks. An outcast even among those society shunned like the plague. She buffed the back fender hard, looking away from her reflection as she did so.

No need for me to stay
The last thing left I just threw it away


She’d thought she was doing better. Yeh, she was still breaking rules at every chance because they were fucking stupid and what was youth for but to waste on crazy ideas and bad choices. But she’d thought they were starting to warm up to her, even if she did bite their damn heads off all the time. She got another rag and swiped at the dirt that dulled the head and tail lights.

I put my faith in god and my trust in you
Now there's nothing more fucked up I could do


Then she had to go and drop a teacher, the Wolverine of all people, with an unplanned touch at a moment of pure recklessness. Knock his ass to the ground in front of everyone and she knew it looked like she’d meant to. Looking like she had no compunction about using her skin against them if anyone so much as looked at her cross-ways. She threw a leg across the saddle of the bike once more and started wiping down the gas tank and handlebars.

Wish there was something real wish there was something true
Wish there was something real in this world full of you


And Wolverine, shit. He’d actually tried quite a few times to be nice to her in that snarly asshole way of his. He didn’t look at her with pity or shy away if she moved to sudden or too close. She gripped the rag tight in her hands, wringing it as she though about how he’d dropped at her feet like she’d struck him fucking dead.

I'm the one without a soul
I'm the one with this big fucking hole


That brief flash of his thoughts in her head when she’d head-butted him. He was so angry at her. She was acting like a fucking brat, challenging him in front of everyone, showing off how much she didn’t give a shit, they way she wanted them to see her. She was so fucking annoying, he was going to teach her lesson. She leaned down and rested her forehead on the gas tank.

No new tale to tell
Twenty-six years on my way to hell
Gotta listen to your big time
Hard line bad luck fist fuck
Don't think you're having all the fun
You know me I hate everyone


It was like everything she was was made to hurt other people. She was being punished for something, she knew it. Probably for being born. Goddamn, this sucked. She hated her mutation. She hated everything around her, she was so angry. She hated herself sometimes. Other times she just felt really fucking sorry for herself, she was such a loser. She couldn’t even go one day without fucking stuff up. Her breath hitched and she pushed her cheek against the metal, squeezed her eyes tight shut.

Wish there was something real wish there was something true
Wish there was something real in this world full of you


Wolverine was going to kill her ass. She’d panicked when she ran out of the gym. She had to get away from all those stares, those fearful eyes, so she ran to the garage and the bike was just right there, screaming for her to take it. Take one more thing from him. That was what she did, she took what didn’t belong to her, not because she wanted to but because that’s what she was apparently made to do. She banged her head hard on the gas tank and growled.

A hard hand clamped down on her shoulder. She jerked up and death was standing right there, looking 6 kinds of pissed off. She jumped off the bike, ripping the ear buds out, and her hackles rose automatically at the glare Wolverine was giving her.

“I didn’t mean to!” she snarled and backed away, fists raised. Ready to strike, that’s what she did; strike first before someone else could. He stiffened at her posture then dropped one hand down to the gas tank possessively.

She bit her lip guiltily and said, “Ok, I meant to take the bike, but I didn’t mean to drop you like that.”

“You’re weren’t thinking, kid.” His words were clipped but calm. He didn’t seem to have any immediate plans to knock her brains out of her head. She relaxed her stance a bit.

“I know I wasn’t….I just…” Her voice was quieter, a hint of sadness under her frustration.

“Instinct, kid. Know all about it.” His lips twisted in something resembling a smile but it was kinda creepy. His eyes were black and flat and he seemed to be looking past her or maybe through her. “Fight or flight. You did both.”

She nodded hestitantly. It was all she could think of. Strike then run like hell. It's what she always did.

“Tomorrow, 6am, Danger Room. You’re going to start learning to think when cornered instead of fight or flight. I’m gonna teach ya.”

Surprised, she straightened up entirely. He wasn’t going to kill her?

“Yer not getting off easy. This will be one-on-one training with me. And I won’t be taking it easy on you. You’ll be begging for jet detail.” She nodded again, swallowing and wondering if it would have been better to just keep riding and not come back.

He inclined his head, indicating she could go. She skirted around him, never turning her back, still paranoid that any moment she might feel three claws through her kidney. As she slid through the door to the kitchen, “Kid.”

She looked up at him, her back braced against the frame. “Don’t ever let me catch you taking my bike again or there'll be hell to pay. Got it?” He growled menacingly at her.

The Rogue came out again, pushing her luck as always, and she flipped her middle finger at him then ran for her room.

Logan grunted to himself at her never-ending supply of piss-and-vinegar and turned to inspect his bike carefully.

He hadn’t had the heart to rip her a new one after he saw the way her face twisted in regret as she tried to clean the bike. The smell of frustration and fear that scrolled out from her in sickly waves as she sat on it, grinding her face into the machine as that that black music he could clearly hear with his enhanced senses poured into her head and rubbed salt in the emotional rips. It made his gut churn.

And he thought he had demons.

Nothing he could do would’ve made her feel worse. She was beating herself up from inside out for a whole laundry lists of reasons that had only a little to do with what happened today. Her punishment was just existing with the worst mutation he could think of.

He wanted to be mad at her, but he couldn’t. She had enough anger for the two of them.

I want to but I can't turn back
But I want to


He ran his hand over his bike, inspecting it then stilling when he felt the residual warmth of her body on the saddle. He lit another cigar and smoked it while rubbing his hand slowly over the leather.
End Notes:
Next chapter we get some more obvious UST.

Song: Wish by NIN
Suck by Corinne
Author's Notes:
Hateful UST here! Sadist!Logan and Bitchy!Rogue

It only gets uglier...and smexier! yeh, i just made up that word, i think it fits LOL!
After two weeks the private training sessions with the Rogue seemed to be working, she was chilling the attitude a bit, seemed less inclined to fight with her classmates, and had even start behaving herself in Logan’s class and quit mouthing off to him in front of other people. Hell, at one point she even volunteered to stick around and put away the equipment.

He didn’t buy it. He couldn’t sense a lie on her, but something about that chick smelled downright suspicious. While she snarked and threw mini temper tantrums during her 6am sessions often, she also paid attention to what he was teaching her and adapted it to her own fighting style. A style that was, Logan noted, basically ferocious and dirty. Despite his superior training and experience, she’d managed to surprise him a couple of times. Never again with a head-butt, he’d been looking out for those but she didn’t seem inclined to try it again. Probably grateful he hadn’t skewered her through the brain-pan for the last time.

They were grappling on the exercise mat, Logan in the superior position, which involved putting the Rogue in a modified full nelson and kicking her knees out from under her so her face was ground into the mat.

“C’mon kid, you can break this,” he snarled in her ear. “Use your brain.” She fruitlessly tried to wind one of her legs around his, but she didn’t have the right position to twist him off. “Nah-ah darlin’” he taunted into her shoulder, “No leverage.” He twisted her arms harder, and she notched up from aggravated to pissed off.

“You motherf-“ she screeched.

He twisted again and barked, “Language goddamnit!” in his best teacher voice.

Fed up, the Rogue writhed until she got her knees under herself and with a scream she pushed up from the floor, dragging Logan’s heavy body with her until she was standing. He tried to force her back down, but she instead kicked both her legs up into the wall in front of her and pushed as hard as she could, toppling them both backwards. As they fell, with Logan on the bottom, she managed to get one arm free and used it to drive several ferocious elbows into the side of his torso where no adamantium protected his kidneys.

“Oof!” was all he managed to grunt before Rogue got him in a necklock and pressed her forearms down hard on his carotid artery, trying to choke him out. Logan grinned, then tapped out on her leg, and she let him go.

“Nice job, kid,” he said, standing up and offering one gloved hand down to her to help her off the floor. She batted it away with a scowl and clambered up on her own, wincing.

“You didn’t have to try to rip my arms off, y’know!” she spat, rubbing her left shoulder and trying to rotate the arm.

“If you got out of the hold sooner I wouldn’t have had a chance to,” he countered. “When you fight the other guy ain’t gonna take it easy on you like I am, so quit yer bitchin’.” He grabbed a towel and slung it around his neck, wiping off his face. Damn uniforms. All that money and Chuck couldn’t figure out how to buy wicking fabric. Damn thing was sticking to him, sweaty and clammy at the same time.

“Taking it easy on me? Thanks so much!” she drawled, dripping with sarcasm as she unzipped the front of her uniform and eased out her left arm, prodding it with hesitant fingers.

“Aw, shit, ow,” she muttered.

Logan looked over the bottom of his raised water bottle, just managing to keep one eyebrow from shooting right up his forehead at the Rogue’s black sports bra. She didn’t hardly have tits enough to need the damn thing, a medium B-cup, if that, because she was slender as a vine. She turned to inspect her shoulder more closely and Logan’s eyes narrowed to the ripple of muscle tracing down her side, following the contour over ribs, then abs, to end at her uniform bottom and the sharp angle of her hip. She’s got some nice definition he noted, along with a mental reminder to himself to have her work more on her lateral abdominals so she could better take a punch there.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Logan’s eyes’ snapped up to the Rogue’s amused kohl-outlined ones. “Up here,” and she pointed to her face.

“Whatever kid, you need to eat more, you’re too skinny,” he snorted.

“Oh screw you…and quit calling me kid,” she huffed, still prodding at her shoulder and trying to roll it.

“Well, if you didn’t act like one maybe I wouldn’t,” he growled, then reached out a gloved hand for her shoulder and squeezed it, inspecting for tendon or ligament damage.

She hissed as he prodded, “You’re a sadist, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, “Sometimes.” He noticed the bruise forming on her shoulder blade and an abrasion that looked like mat burn on her side.

She marks easily a voice in the back of his head growled.

Running his hand down her bicep and triceps to look for further injury he noticed the flat hard planes of her muscles. The salty tang of her sweat met his nose and something started at the base of his spine.

Her sarcastic voice interrupted his observations. “Are you finished, pervert?”

Logan mentally shook himself. “You’ve got a good strain to the rotator cuff. “ He took his glove off and reached down, only to have her jump back.

“Are you fucking nuts?!” she shouted, holding her shoulder like he’s just tried to burn her.

“Kid, it’s either you take a bit of healing or you get to ice and not use it for a few days.” He shrugged again. “Besides, I’m a bit of a masochist, too” and he smirked at her and snaked his hand out again.

“Well, I ain’t a sadist so hands off!” She scowled as she jammed her arm back into her uniform sleeve with a grimace. He grinned again and tried to grab her and make her take a bit so she’d just shut up and be over it and ready to fight again tomorrow morning. He liked fighting with her; she was fucking feisty and meaner than a snake when he got her riled up. It was fun.

She slapped his hand away again and snapped, “Like I want you running around in my damn head!”

He paused, he hadn’t really thought about that part of her mutation. “Hmm…sorry, kid. Forgot about that part.”

“Well, isn’t that nice you can forget,” she sneered. “I can’t.” And she stomped away to the locker room. He distinctly heard her mutter. “Asshole” before she slammed the door behind her. It made him laugh.

Since she wasn’t up for sparring for the few days, the Rogue hoped she’d be let off her ungodly early training sessions but no such luck. In addition to the homework he gave her on Danger Room simulation design to test her ability to think of creative combat scenarios, which kept her up late, Logan apparently didn’t believe in sick leave or days off.

At 6:02 am the next morning he was banging through the door to her private room and yanking her covers off.

“Rise and shine, sweetcheeks!” he boomed in a loud voice that had her groaning and burrowing her head further into her pillow. A muffled “fuck you” emerged just before Logan grabbed her mattress and with a huge heave lifted it up at an angle and dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor.

“No sparring today with that shoulder, gonna work on conditioning. Who’s up for a 5 mile run?” he taunted and grinned down at her sleepy yet furious face. The Rogue was seriously tempted to rip off her elbow length opera-gloves and drain him until he was nothing but a hairy husk. Deciding she could save the draining until she got him away from the mansion and potential witnesses she stomped to the bathroom to change, entertaining Logan with creative combinations of profanity that burned his ears even through the door.

After the run, during which the Rogue has unsuccessfully tried to shove Logan into a stream, he had her doing high jumps and crunches on the lawn, counting them off like a drill instructor.

“I hate you,” she panted as she came up one more time and he told her to do it over b/c she hadn’t kept proper position. “I hate you,” she repeated, this time through her teeth.

“Yeh, yeh, get in line,” he said airily. She was right, he was a sadist because he was definitely enjoying watching her get all pissed off, cursing his name, and questioning his already dubious parentage.

It made him grin with all his teeth showing, like a wolf. She cursed him again at that grin and kept with her crunches.

He honestly could not remember anyone ever calling him a cocksucker and not walking away with their insides on their outsides. Her insults made him feel slightly only less homicidal than usual when challenged, but he got an immense kick out of using his teacher authority over her, making her do what he wanted so it settled him a bit.

Her ass was his and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Even Chuck left Wolverine to his own devices in handling Rogue's discipline. She could have gone ahead and begged for jet duty, it was an option, but she was just as stubborn as he was and as much as she called him a son of a whore, he could tell she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching her break.

Wolverine was definitely enjoying the battle of wills. Sure, he’d win in the end, he always did, but the pursuit of victory was enjoyable.

She stumbled on jelly legs up the stairs to shower before classes, which made him chuckle. With a glare the Rogue did something only a teenager would do and stuck her tongue out at him and said wearily, “Eat shit and die.” He reminded her he wanted her newest DR sim program on his desk by Monday, to which he got only the floating sound of a raspberry as she turned the corner.

For the next 2 days Logan ran the Rogue into the ground to the point where she didn’t have the strength to threaten to castrate him with hedge clippers or even give him the finger. The less she swore the more focused she became during their runs, apparently in a zone she’d hadn’t before achieved, what with wasting all her energy flapping her lips.

They ran in almost-companionable silence through the woods, often going off-trail, rock hopping and scrambling to make use of the varied terrain around the Institute. The Wolverine enjoyed it, the smell of raw earth, dusky moss and pine needles, the sound of rhythmic breathing and pounding feet mile after mile. It hypnotized the beast within, content to just run on and on. Occasionally the scent of her salty sweat drew him to run behind her, admiring the view in the spandex pants or the way her hair curled out of the ponytail into ringlets on the back of her neck. Sometime he ran in front and to took the lead and blazed the trail to test if she could follow. She did so in silence, as focused on the pattern of rise and fall and breathing as he was.

After they flopped on the lawn near the greenhouses after the last run, she drained her water bottle and said, “How long do you I have to do this?” Her emerald lined eyes were a bit bright with adrenalin.

He raised an eyebrow. “Specifics darlin,” he grunted.

“This ass crack of dawn training then? I want to sleep in,” she groused.

“Long as I say you do…or at least you’re conditioned and trained enough for a mission.”

“And how long will that be?” She scrubbed one cotton covered forearm against her forehead, swiping sweat away.

“Till I say so,” he grunted.

“Shit, you’re worse than prison guard! I just want a day off for christ’s sake!”

“Ok, ok, don’t get you panties in a bunch,” he said holding up his hand to her furious face.

“Quit thinking about my panties.” Ok, maybe she did have enough energy to backtalk.

“Whatever, kid. You can sleep in on Sunday. I gotta do something Saturday night anyways and probably won’t be back ‘til morning.” He’d finally found a cage fight 3 counties over and was itching for some knuckle dusting.

“And what’s something’s name?” The Rogue grinned bitchily at him.

He snarled, “Jack Daniels. Now get the fuck out of here before I give you 10 more laps, kid,” and he waved his hand dismissively at her.

She got up and he leisurely watched the swing and sway of her hips, then she looked down and said irritably, “Don’t call me kid, old man.” She kicked him once roughly in the shin then jogged back to the mansion. He grinned as he absent-mindedly rubbed his leg.

The Rogue seemed to settle down a bit at the prospect of a day off this weekend and seemed content to take her lumps with as little bitching as possible for the next couple of days. Twice he’d found her in the DR control room late at night when he’d been restless and needed a tussle before sleep. She’d showed him two background holo-environments she’d been working on, a deserted warehouse with various obstacles and a post-apocalyptic street scene with burning cars. He was especially impressed with her mock-ups of enemies, including some interesting looking mutants he hadn’t seen before. Her most amusing coding was of the Brotherhood that did a pretty neat job of mimicking their powers, especially Quicksilver’s acceleration and blurred appearance when at speed and Avalanche's seismic rumbles. He left her to her work with a somewhat complimentary, “Doesn’t suck so far,” and went for a run instead, contemplating the softening of the Rogue's sharp edges and prickly defiance.

Seemed he’d finally found a program to whip her stubborn ass into shape, with just the occasional reward for less-then-evil behavior. He knew he'd set her straight, even if it meant taking a little too much pleasure in her frustration.

Come Saturday night, the Rogue was positively chipper as she pranced through the rec room with popcorn, holding a slasher DVD, knowing she didn’t have to be up before the sun. Chuck and Storm were in DC at a conference on mutant relations, leaving Scott and Jean in charge of the students. Logan looked around the rec room, satisfied that the wunderkidz in charge would make sure the students had a boring night. He bid them goodnight and hit the bricks, anxious to get to pummeling without the rules that bound him night and day at the Institute.

At the sound of his bike fading away, the Rogue knocked her popcorn bowl to the floor and got up. Scott called after her to clean it up, to which she yelled, “Make me, One-Eye!” as she ran upstairs. Jean sighed and telekinetically started picking up.

***********************************************************************************


The Wolverine was highly aggravated, the fights had not at all been up to his expectations and passed way too fast. They ran out of suckers foolish enough to step into the cage with him early on, even though he let a few guys pound on him for a bit to make it look good. But even his poor theatrics couldn’t bolster the wilting nerve of the pansies in the bar. Even consoling himself with a fifth of whiskey didn’t take the edge off his sour mood. One rather good-looking blonde barfly had sidled up to him and put a brazen hand on his groin. He’d briefly contemplated fucking her in a bathroom stall, but then decided he was in the mood for a brunette and brushed her off. No dice on decent brown hairs, so he took off, settling for another unfulfilling session in the DR.

He didn’t bother to put on his fighting togs and went straight to the DR. Just as he raised his hand to the scanner for entrance he paused. Someone was in there and apparently running a massive program based on the noise leaking through the heavy metal door. He put his hand against it and could positively feel the vibrations of a louder than life sim pounding on the other side. While it was usually considered bad manners at the Institute to interrupt a running sim, the Wolverine thought it sounded like something he wanted to join. He barked an override code at panel, activating voice control. Granted access, the door slid open and he was almost blasted back off his feet by a wall of sound that poured into the hall.

Holy shit, how many students do we have? His eyes goggled at the sheer volume of people crammed into the Dr, all writhing and thrashing against each other. He looked past the press of bodies and saw the warehouse sim the Rogue had designed was the environment. What he’d previously througt were obstacles and weapons when she’d shown it to him earlier were in face a disguised set up for an obscenely large sound and lighting system. Strobes flashed in time with thundering bass and lasers pieced the room, punctuating each scream from the speakers.

There is no god up in the sky tonight
No sign of heaven anywhere in sight


No sign of Jean or Scott, that he could tell. Probably tied up and gagged, no other way the student could've gotten away with this otherwise. There were seemingly a hundred people crammed into the space, thrusting in time to the cacophony, sweating and grinding against each other, a lot of students and -

Shit is that Avalanche from the Brotherhood grinding against Kitty’s back?

It was. Quicksilver was here too and he wasn’t a sim, he was sweating too hard. He flashed past Wolverine in a blur, then backpedaled just as rapidly and grinned at him. “Gate crashing, eh? Excellent!” and before he could grab the speed demon he’d zipped behind Wolverine back and slapped hard him on the back of the head before disappearing into the press of bodies with a flash of silver hair.

Growling, Wolverine looked around, trying to focus on faces through the blinding strobes that threatened to give him his first ever migraine. He roared an order at the computer to terminate the program. Nothing happened. He tried again. No dice. She’d apparently locked him out.

Snarling, he began shoving through the crowd to find the instigator of the glorified orgy going on all around him. He noticed that mingled in with the sweaty, aroused scents of students was the non-scent but electric tingle of holographic bodies.

Cute. She’d populated the vast warehouse with some of those mutants she’d shown to him earlier as part of her sim homework. She’d been secretly laughing at his ass the whole time she showed him her "homework."

All that was true is left behind
Once I could see now I am blind


He finally locked onto her scent and barreled through the crowd, shoving real and fictional bodies out of the way, pausing only once to rip Kurt off Magma by the tail when it looked like the appendage was sneaking up the girl’s shirt. Kurt took one wide-eyed look at Logan’s face and bamfed him and his little piece out of sight. Again focused on his objective he took a deep sniff and found the Rogue’s scent lead his eyes upwards.

She was on raised platform, in a cage, rubbing lasciviously against the bars. And she looked to be naked. He momentarily forgot his original intention to rip her into teeny tiny squishy bits and watched. When a green laser hit her body it seemed to slowly trace her lean form, and he realized she was covered, although not in any outfit he’d ever seen before.

Don't want your dreams you try to sell
This disease I give to myself


It looked to be painted on, literally. He took another long draw of breath through his nose. Latex. She was covered in liquid latex from her toes to her chin, black and green swirls that went all the way up to her face and traced around the edge of her jaw. Even her hands were covered and it looked like liquid sin wrapped around her fingers, thighs, ass, and those tits. He wouldn’t think they were too small again. Her one concession to what modesty she had, she was wearing a tiny black bikini over the paint.

The Rogue grasped a cage bar in each hand and swiveled her hips viciously, grinding against the one in the middle, sliding down it like it was a lover. Her head was back, eyes closed, as she slung her body back and forth, absorbed in the music.

How does it feel?
How does it feel?


Turning away from him, she slid her back down the bars and spread her legs, crouching with her knees angled out and ran her hands down her legs to her ankles as she gyrated her hips, drawing his eyes to them like a magnet. She then straightened her knees so her legs were rigid and her ass rode high in the air as fingers dipped in green and black traced unknowable sigils on her flesh as they roved up.

He noticed a gaggle of teenage boys, both real students and cleverly designed holos, gathered around her cage. Something threw itself against the cage in his mind, begging to stab out eyes eagerly searing against her lithe form as she once against flung her body against the cage in mock anger. One of her hands reached out through the bars, beckoning, and even though he was still 20 feet away, Wolverine’s own hand rose unconsciously from his side. But she reached to someone closer and dragged a student with a gold and red punk haircut through the widely spaced bars.

Bezerker was clearly eager to join the Rogue in captivity.

She makes it sweeter than the sun
I get too tight I come undone


The boy reached out to grasp the Rogue by the hips and draw her to him, only be rebuffed with a hard shove until his own back was against the bars. The Rogue grabbed him by the spiky hair and forced his head back as she slithered against him. Wolverine growled and stomped closer to the cage. They were on the far side and he wouldn’t have been able to reach them through the bars, which were still too close together for his bulky frame to get through. He was about to unleash his claws, slash the thing to ribbons, and drag the two apart when the Rogue crashed to her knees buried her face in Berzerke's abdomen, gyrating her hips in an apparent frenzy.

I bow my head to confess
The temple walls are made of flesh


Captivated by the sight, Wolverine paused as one of her latex covered hands crawled up under his shirt and did something that made the punk’s head fall back and smack against a cage bar. Wolverine distinctly heard the Rogue’s raspy laugh, and it cut through the roaring music like a switchblade.

Runs up my arms 'til I'm on track
Itches my skin right off of my back


Her other hand crawled up and down his thigh, pinching, scratching, clawing and she sighed at the sight of Bezerker grabbing the bars on either side of him, as if to hold himself up under her onslaught. Her breath was coming quicker now, almost panting. Wolverine could smell the arousal slithering from her body. One of Bezerker’s hands came down to the back of her head and fisted in her hair.

I'll heal your wounds
I'll set you free
I'm Jesus Christ on Ecstasy


Her head tilted back and she grinned then snaked her tongue out to slide slowly over her lips then teeth, as though she were starving and the 17 year old boy in front of her was a meal she’d been dying for.

The hand that had been rubbing up the inside of his thighs came up and grabbed him by the belt and roughly pulled his hips forward as her head bobbed down.

Suck
Suck
Suck
Suck


While half of Wolverine wanted to rip the two of them apart and kill them both, another part, the angrily sinister and voyeuristic mind, leaned forward to watch as Rogue simulated giving the guy head, rubbing her face and platinum and chocolate hair against his hips and stomach.

The Rogue suddenly abandoned the pretense, stood up and whirled to press her ass and back against Bezerker. She grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her slicked hip and the other on one shiny black and green breast. The claws were itching to come out and Wolverine had to still his hands as he watched her move like a snake, sliding in dizzying waves against the lucky bastard with two hands full of her body.

A thousand lips a thousand tongues
A thousand throats a thousand lungs


She was laughing and tilting her head back to him, his dipping forward and for one irrational second Wolverine though they were going to kiss and she’d drop the guy to the ground. They didn’t touch flesh. Bezerker just pressed his face into the top of the Rogue’s head and laughed with her as they moved, his teeth gleaming in the crazy light. He did lean over and slick his tongue over the shiny covered column of her throat one time when she looked over her shoulder and smirked at him again. Then she gave him a hard, but playful, elbow in the ribs and stepped once again to the bars; her body slashed back and forth like a ragged blade and drew the other boys to come closer. Bezerker shrugged, laughed once again, squeezed through the bars then jumped onto the traffic jam of bodies and crowd surfed out of sight.

Even though their little encounter had clearly been in jest, Wolverine was pissed off. The animal in his head snarled and bashed itself into the back of his eyes, roaring to be let out and let loose on the green and black figure who slithered her ass in aching slides up and down in front of him.

Suddenly she turned around and crouched down, knees spread wide, giving Wolverine a full view of her slick and shiny body covered with just latex and a few scrap of black cloth.

A thousand ways to make it true
I want to do terrible things to you


She locked gazes with him suddenly, a moment passed with a crackling sensation that snapped at the air between then. Then her eyes narrowed. She hissed and he could clearly read her lips as the sound was lost in the thundering wail of electronic drums and searing guitars.

“Get a good look, old man?”

Snarling, the Wolverine reached through the bars and locked his hands on her shoulders, dragging her face close so she could hear him. “Turn it off!” he shouted in her face.

“Fuck you!”

“Promises promises!” he roared, then dragged her forcibly through the bars and crushed her against his chest.

“Goddamnit, turn it off!” He was bruising her shoulders in his grip, and he did not care if it hurt her.

Her eyes flashed brilliant with wrath, and she twisted in his hands, refusing to answer him. Furious, Wolverine shoved her backwards through the crowd, jostling people out of the way. She tugged and shoved against him as best she could, but she couldn’t budge him away from her. She tried to headbutt him again and almost swiped his chin with her bare forehead.

Wolverine jerked his face back just in time, then released one shoulder and clenched her covered neck in one hand and said in her ear, deadly serious venom dripping from every word, “Nah-ah, no sucking for you tonight darlin’.” Then he shoved her hard behind a stack of crates and pinned her against the wall by the throat. He was so frenzied he almost forgot to mind that he didn’t crush her larynx.

“What do you think you’re doing, kid?” he growled and she could hear him now, tucked out of the range of the speakers.

“Having a fucking quilting bee! What does it look like?!” she drawled nastily as best she could with her windpipe constricted.

“Looks like someone didn’t ask for permission to throw a party. You've been a bad girl, Rogue.” The words dripped like spoiled honey from his tongue.

She shivered. “Fuck you, you’re not my father!”

“Language goddamnit!” and he gave her neck a little shake, bouncing her head off the crate behind her. “If I was I’d beat you black and blue for that skanky little show in the cage.”

Her eyes narrowed hatefully. “Hypocrite!" she snarled. "You liked it just fine. I saw you watching.”

He shook his head for a second to clear the ring of truth from it and then went on the attack. “Yeh, watching a teenage girl throw her skinny ass around like a whore.”

She grinned nastily. “You seem like the type of guy who likes whores.”

He snorted disdainfully, “All covered up like that so no one can really touch you. You ain’t a whore. Shit you aren’t even a slut who gives it away for free.” He shook her neck again, making sure he had her full attention. Then he took a deep breath, inhaling the aroused but still untouched scent of her body, the bitter tang of her anger and frustration roiling out from her in wave of wantonness. “Yer nothin’ but a cocktease.”

She brought up her knee to nail him in the groin. He roared and shoved back, narrowly avoiding the blow. Then he grabbed her by the arm, digging his fingers and nails in hard, and said, “I mean it Rogue, I’m telling you one last time….turn...it…off.”

“Fuck you, Wolverine!” she shrieked and tried to pull away. He dug his nails in again and pulled, ripping off a long strip off latex and baring 18 inches of poison.

“Let’s see how much you tease when you ain’t hiding under all this shit,” he panted and grabbed at her again and tore off another long winding of latex, this time revealing her lean abs and a swath of white thigh.

She cringed back, pressing against the crates at behind her to get away from his hands, terrified of touching him again. She didn't want to know exactly what he was thinking, how much he hated her at this moment, what a little shit she was.

As Wolverine tore and ripped away the latex from her she felt more and more helpless and vulnerable, especially as he wasn’t wearing gloves. She most definitely didn’t want to know what he would do in revenge if she dropped him again with her power. When she was reduced to almost nothing but her bikini and some strips around her jaw and hands she was panicking, no weapons left to use against him.

He grabbed her by then back of her head and wound his fist in her hair brutally. He dragged her around the crates and shoved her hard into the crowd surging around the speakers.
Bodies, bared flesh, gyrated all around her, pulling, grasping, aching for her skin to reach and drain. Memories, minds, and powers all sung to her greedy skin to take and take, to suck them all dry.

She screamed, “Computer, end program! END PROGRAM!” and the crowd around her vanished. The two dozen real students who had been partying it up blinked at the sudden harsh light flooding the DR and the disappearance of their hot spot. Several of them jumped away from each other's embrace as they spotted Wolverine’s furious glare and the Rogue standing there what was left of her latex and a bikini.

He snarled at the startled students, “Don’t ever fucking let me catch you doing something like this again!”

The Rogue covered her face with her hands and barreled for the door, barely seeing her classmates jump hastily away from the miles of ivory lethal skin.

“I hate you!” she screamed as the DR door hissed open and she ran through.

“Good. You should.” Wolverine spat.




End Notes:
Song: Suck by NIN.


Next chapter we get NC-17 rating. It will be posted late Friday night as I'm leaving Saturday morning and can't go on my trip with this unfinished!

P.S. I am a comment whore. Feed the beast!
Closer by Corinne
Author's Notes:
Ugly, nasty, smexy, rauchy.

You've been warned.

As always, please feed the comment whore...and maybe she'll write an epilogue in which Rogue gets her fair share.
Xavier learned of what had transpired when he returned. Of course, he heard only the sanitized version from Logan, in which he’d busted up a party in the DR at which several unauthorized mutants from the Brotherhood had appeared; no mention of the general whoriness of the shindig. The kids who were there weren’t stupid enough to snitch on the Wolverine, and the Rogue didn’t seem to want to talk about it, in fact she sort of stopped talking altogether for a bit. While labeled as the primary instigator, she was not alone in her punishment as all the attendees were given double-DR practice and set about various manual labor tasks around the mansion grounds.

Xavier called Logan into his office shortly afterwards and inclined his head to indicate the other man should take a seat. He steepled his fingers and looked over them at one of his most valuable team members and said, “Logan, do you think it’s a good idea to continue privately training the Rogue? While I admit there’s been rather a good deal of improvement in her day to day behavior, she appears to have developed a particular interest in breaking rules under your nose. She also seems to be quite good at getting under your skin, and I’m concerned you’re starting to take her rebelliousness personally.”

Logan grunted in agreement. He couldn’t argue with Chuck with any of that, the chick definitely had a taste for antagonizing him and it was starting to stick in his craw for some reason. Usually he could slough off this sort of thing, but after the party bust she’d ignored him stonily for several days, going out of her way to turn her face away from him and refused to respond to anything he said to her in class or in morning workouts. It was maddening and only provoked his temper further, which he struggled to keep it in check during class. During their workouts, what had been fighting drills had twice practically devolved into brawls in which both of them had shown no mercy. Both times the Rogue had started it with a dirty hit, once to the balls and another time she backhanded him sharply, scornfully. The color in Logan’s face rose as he remembered the disrespectful blow and the heated look in her eyes, after they both gave up when exhausted, before she brushed past him a bit too hard and stalked to her locker room. He had to restrain himself from following her to continue the fight.

While part of him secretly reveled in the constant tension, always on the edge of bubbling over, the more rational part of his mind, small as it was, niggled at his conscience over how he was treating a student. It wasn’t something he normally did, but she riled him up something fierce, turning him into an animal at moments.

Xavier’s voice interrupted his reverie. “Perhaps she should work with Storm or Dr. McCoy if it’s determined she needs more individual attention.”

Individual attention the Wolverine sneered to himself. What that chick needed was a good slap to the back of the head. He’d tried cutting her a break with the rule-breaking, tried to train her and give her a better shot at establishing herself as a team member and securing her place at the school. Shit, he’d even tried to be nice to her and give her a day off.

All that “individual attention” and all he’d seen for it was one bitchy play after another. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for handling a case like the Rogue, much as it galled him to consider throwing in the towel.

“Maybe yer right, Chuck. Lemme think about it.” As he left the office and headed back for his room, he thought about not training her anymore and if he should ask her what she wanted. He mentally slapped himself. The Rogue probably didn’t know what the hell she wanted. What she definitely needed was someone to set her feet on the right path and kick her in the ass when she strayed from it. He just didn’t know if he was the right person to do it. He was too violent, too crazy and impulsive, like her. If anything, she seemed to feed off his animalistic side and act out even worse.

As much as he disliked the idea of giving up on her, letting her win whatever game it was they were playing, he began to think he was just too old for this shit and she was too young for him to be looking at the way he’d been. He took too much perverse pleasure in watching her run, her lean legs pumping in tandem with his, especially the way her eyes cut malevolently at him when she caught him looking. Wrestling with her in the gym, muscles strained against each other, advantage given and taken with each pin and submission tap. The sharp tang of her insolence rolled out from her body teased his senses, calling to the animal in his head that wanted to take her smart mouth and put it to more creative use.

Even her anger…especially her anger…drew him in, matched his temper flare for flare. When her ebony lined eyes blazed in fury and her face heated it was a fucking sight. When those plush black lipsticked lips formed around profane and obscene words he almost marveled at how wicked a girl that young could get.

Her impurity, that’s what it was. She was untouched in the most primal way, but in so many others she was as venal and shameless as he. She was cunning and only wanted only to fight, to rage, to stir shit up and never let life slip into tedium. She showed remorse only when confronted and then sometimes only because that was what was expected, not because she really felt it. She didn’t really seem to feel anything light or good, and she wallowed in her own darkness often in self-loathing, but sometimes in celebration. She couldn’t help but enjoy being bad. He dig that intensely, the conflict, the shame mingled with defiance. His mirror image wrapped up in an illegal, deadly, and smoking hot package.

She was a pure born agent of chaos and it drew him in like a moth to a deadly flame. He didn’t hate her. He hated how she made him feel: untamed, primitive, out of control. He wanted that control back, to put her under his boot and show who the dominant creature was.

These thoughts pounded back and forth in his head as he laid down on his bed, eyes clenched tight against the sun that poured into his room. The Rogue would be the downfall of him, he was sure of it, if he didn’t charge forward and put her in her place. She didn’t respond to kindness, rather she used any thoughtfulness he showed her against him, shoving it back in his face with a malicious grin like a serrated blade to the gut.

These ruminations were interrupted by a silent, but urgent, mental call from Xavier warning of an emergency situation in Nevada. Senior students were called also to the briefing, including Scott, Jean, Rogue, Kitty, and Kurt. Juggernaut had broken free of the supermax facility in which he’d been confined and was attacking Hoover Dam, threatening the electricity supply for a large swath of the southwestern US and the town near the base of the dam.

*********************************************************

The battle raged on. Cyclops was knocked out by a massive fist, his visor crushed. Jean was trying to protect Xavier from the boulders Juggernaut launched at him while he simultaneously swatted away Kitty Pryde, who didn’t phase fast enough to avoid the blow. Wolverine snarled and tried to slash at the behemoth’s body, but his claws barely made a scratch in the armor and his enemy’s skin seemed just as impenetrable. Growling, he charged and launched himself at Juggernaut’s torso, hoping to knock the big man down.

Juggernaut just laughed and smothered Wolverine in a bear hug, crushing him against his massive chest. “What’re you trying to do? Embarrass me to death?” Then he flung the breathless X-man to the ground and tried to stomp on him. Wolverine rolled away at the last second and bared his claws again. “Gimme your best shot!” the unstoppable Juggernaut roared.

“Y’know, that’s just what I had in mind, bub!” Wolverine snarled and launched himself at the man’s helmet, the only shot they had at taking him down. Get ride of the helmet and Xavier could paralyze the Juggernaut’s mind long enough for him to be put back into lockdown.

One massive hand shot out, capturing both of Wolverine’s in one. “You think those knives are going to stop me? Nothing stops me!” the Juggernaut shouted as he grabbed Wolverine’s claws and squeezed, trying to twist them from his body.

“I’m raw power!!!” Wolverine’s agonized yells filled the air.

Nightcrawler ‘ported the Rogue onto Juggernaut’s back as she shouted, “Yeh, you want it raw tough guy?! Then take it raw!” and one bare hand snaked down into his helmet and latched onto his eyes, clawing and clutching.

Then the screaming started. Agonized, breathless, mutilated shrieks of pain and animosity. It was impossible to tell their howls apart.

It didn’t stop until the massive monster fell and Rogue rolled off his back, moaning. The army quickly moved in to secure Juggernaut as the X-men gathered around Rogue, Jean lifting her gently to her feet. Rogue shied away from the girl’s attempt to put an arm around her waist, choosing instead to turn away quickly and tug the glove onto her bared hand. Voices, including the Professor’s, babbled at her, congratulatory, concerned, anxious. She darted away from them, the merest touch from her arm as she passed enough to knock Kurt back several feet with her acquired strength. She scowled and made her way to the Velocity helicopter, but just as she reached it her knees went to jelly and she sagged.

Wolverine darted forward to catch her before she hit the ground. “Hey kid, you alright?” He smoothed white hair from her face.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, only the whites showing. She gasped, “I got a big piece of his mind and….aaaagggghhhh!” She threw her arms out in mental anguish, striking Wolverine and he flew back and crashed into a tree. The screaming started again, furious and desperate.

On the flight back to the Institute, no one was allowed to come into the back compartment in which Xavier had sealed himself with the Rogue, working furiously to banish Juggernaut’s personality from her mind before she rampaged. It was long after they landed, and the rest of the team had gone to the conference room for the debriefing with Storm, that Xavier rolled down the ramp with a pale, tense and twitchy Rogue walking behind him. Wolverine had stayed behind to wait for them.

At the sight of her weary face, he started forward, “Kid-“

“Don’t start acting like you care,” she said as she knocked away the supporting arm he tried to put around her. ““Leave me alone.”

He snarled resentfully at her retreating back.

“Hold, my old friend,” Xavier said, placating. “She’s a bit confused right now. I managed to force Juggernaut’s personality out of her mind and his powers have faded, but his rage fueled memories are still quite present.”

Wolverine’s eyebrows drew down in a hawkish glare. “But she’s gonna be alright.” He said it as an undisputed fact.

Xavier paused.

“Charles?!” he barked.

Suddenly Xavier’s face showed every one of his years. “I…I don’t know. She’s always been so volatile to begin with…now…” He folded his hand, almost like praying, and gave Wolverine a hard look that conveyed more than words ever could.

He went looking for her, not even bothering to change out of his uniform, but she was gone. She’d run to her room, changed clothes, then crawled out the window and run for the garage.

“Goddamnit!”

Yup, she’d taken his bike again. Every time she was angry she did something to provoke him, to twist the knife a little deeper, to vent her rage on the one person at the Institute who could take it because he knew what it was like to live on nothing but piss and vinegar, fueled by bitterness and ferocity. And he was starting to feel really ferocious towards her.

She would never to ask for help, didn’t want it even if she needed it, content to spend her life tied up in the violence in her head and around her.

I tried, goddamnit, I tried but she won’t take it. I’ll make her take it he growled to himself as he jumped into his jeep and tore through the grounds, tracking the Rogue by scent.

He found her in the closest bar; she apparently wasn’t the in mood to waste time being evasive. He flung open the door and saw her hunched over a large glass of bourbon. His warning snarl caught her attention and before he could move closer, she kicked the closest chair to her viciously and sent it flying at him. He unleashed the claws and slashed it to pieces. While he was distracted, she leapt over the bar and beat feet out the back door. By the time he got to the parking lot she’d peeled out in a spray of gravel and was gunning the bike down the road. He flung himself into the jeep with a roar and took off after her.

The bike was fast, but she wasn’t as daring he was on it, not going nearly as fast since she couldn’t heal from any accident. Her hesitation to take corners at top speed allowed him to gain on her. He finally managed to pull up along side, and he wrenched the wheel hard to the left and cut her off abruptly, forcing the bike onto a dirt road off the main thoroughfare.

She saw was he was about to do and let off the throttle at just the right moment to avoid laying the bike down. The back wheel swerved from behind her and she slid to a stop sideways, her right leg almost touching the door of the jeep. She wasn’t wearing a helmet, and her hair was windblown, her eyes venomous. Her black slicked lips twisted in a curse, her hand came off the throttle, and she threw a punishing roundhouse at Wolverine’s face, connecting solidly with left eye and her fingers dug in for a moment, blinding him as his head rocked back. As he shook of the blow she was revved the bike to turn it around. He launched himself over the door of the jeep with a furious growl and clamped one hand around her waist and another over her mouth. Leather clad hands bit fiercely into her flesh.

She wore black leather pants and a red top, sheer enough to show her cut off tank top underneath, the undersides of her breasts just visible. At grinned and dug his fingers once again into her side as she squirmed, trying to fight out of his reach. He yanked her off the bike, which spluttered and died, and crushed her back against his chest and pushed forward, forcing her over the bike until her face was pressed into the leather saddle.

His hand tightened on her face and dug into her cheeks, carving hollows there. He leaned down and hissed through her wild hair into her ear, “What did I tell you about stealing my bike?”

An angry noise escaped her mouth, muffled by leather. He hissed, “I told you not to let me catch you or there’d be hell to pay….you’re caught.” His voice dripped like acid in her ear and she struggled again. His other hand crushed brutally around her torso as he smothered her resistance. She felt the hard press of his thighs against her ass, and tried to shift again.

He thrust against her and growled low, “You wanted to get caught.” She struggled to shake her head, but he forced her chin still.

“Don’t-lie-to-me-girl!” he growled, punctuating each word with a squeeze of his hands at her face and waist, and painfully electric sensations zigged through her. She writhed against him, tried to kick him, but he pressed his advantage by loosening the arm around her waist for a swift moment then snaked it up the red mesh and black tank, rough leather combat gloves abrading her skin. Her breath caught and a tinge of fear laced her scent at his harsh touch.

He grimaced into her hair then took his other hand away from her mouth and unleashed the claws, flashing them close to her face. “You’ve been playing a dangerous game Rogue, one you can’t win.” One claw traced down her cheek and blood welled.

His voice rumbled deep in his chest, and she shivered at the feel of it through her back arced over the bike at the same time she felt the sting of the slice. “Fuck you!” she yelled as loud as she could.

He grabbed her hair hard and twisted her neck so she had to look up at him, her black lined eyes wide at the fierce look on his face. The way one side of his lip curled up and exposed sharpened canines was positively feral, almost inhuman.

She shivered again as he whispered, “One more word from that smart mouth of yours and I’ll cut you again.” His tongue snaked out and ever so briefly slicked up the trail of blood from her cheek. They both felt the quick sizzle of her mutation trying to latch onto him, but he pulled away swiftly. “And I won’t heal you next time,” he muttered darkly. Even now she felt the skin on her cheek knit back, and a brief flash of his anger and desire flooded through her, black and merciless.

She couldn’t help it and sighed roughly, the arch of her back from where she’d been trying to force his weight from her softened.

“I thought so,” he said smugly into her ear again, his warm breath crawling over her skin like fire ants, repulsive and intoxicating at the same time. The danger in his voice raised goose bumps on her flesh at the same time her spine stiffened again at his arrogance. She struggled against the arm crushed around her waist until she froze when one rough leather hand gripped her breast and massaged it roughly.

“Fight all you want Rogue, your pretty little ass is mine.” He ground his hips into her from behind, forcing her harder into the bike.

She half screamed-half moaned against her will and the hand that had been threatening her face with 27 inches of adamantium slapped down over her mouth again.

“Shut up!” he ground out, his voice lashing against her cheek once more. “This ain’t for you to enjoy, cocktease,” he taunted and squeezed her tit brutally once more as he pressed down on her back and her face smashed into the seat, then he moved his arm down and lifted her hips against his, the bulge straining against his leather uniform pants easily felt.

Panicking at the intent so clear in his words, she rolled her hips to try and dislodge him, but she was totally immobilized under him, her arms trapped under her almost brushing against the burning metal of the engine casing. She had no way to push him off, even though a small part of her relished the pain and viciousness of his coarse gloves roaming her chest and stomach, the leather of his sleeve chafing skin previously untouched by all hands but her own.

He could smell the fear and uncertainty seeping from her at the same time a tinge of arousal permeated her leather pants. She didn’t want this but she did, his little 17 year old demon. She’d played with fire and it was time for her to burn.

“Not another word, Rogue,” he warned as he lifted the hand from her face and brought it quickly down to slice a neat line through the seam at the crotch of her leather pants. She gasped and froze. This was not happening.

“You zap me with those powers of yours, girl,” his voice was back at her ear, quiet but deadly cruel, his breath roaring in her head in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and the base of her spine zing with sudden heat, “and you won’t live to regret it.” A hand gripped her breast cruelly again and his chest pressed against her back to kept her down even as every nerve in her body screamed to fight. She heard a quiet ripping sound, felt him shift behind her, and tried to look over her shoulder. She bucked at the sight of the foil packet between his teeth, not wanting it, not now, not this way.

He smelled her fear and it made his mouth water. “Too late now darlin’, you’re caught,” he said roughly and she felt a hard push against her inner thighs as his hand once again came back to clamp hard over her mouth, then the remorseless invasion made her scream into his glove.

She felt like she was being ripped apart and sewn back together at once, painful and ravenous at the same time. She bit hard into the fingers locked over her mouth as he rocked roughly into her again, tearing her dry passage anew and knocking her breath out. She moaned in pain against his hand and he leaned his face down again, heated breath drawing sickening breezes on her neck when he shoved her hair away and panted against her skin.

“Not teasing anymore are you? I’m gonna fuck you like an animal,” he groaned then sunk his teeth into her shoulder, breaking the skin. She whimpered when the skin gave way in a sickening rip and again at the sensation of his tongue sucking hard through the red mesh at the torn flesh, this time a luscious keen at the sensation of his slick, rough tongue tasting her.

He jolted into her again, ripping, taking, stealing from her that which she had longed to throw away. But she never thought, never this way as much as she’d enjoyed taunting him, teasing him with what she thought no man could ever have.

The Wolverine withdrew once more with new twist of his lean hips and the pain in her changed to something else, an emptiness that sorely ached and was suddenly was filled again with another ruthless pulse. Her spine melted down and her knees wobbled. He growled and lifted her hips again to his before returning his hand’s attention to her breasts, pinching them and rolling her nipples against the abrasive leather. Her body’s response shocked and revolted her as it moved against his hand of its own volition, rubbing hard against his palm, yearning to feel those cruel fingers torment her again. The hand over her mouth softened and turned from grasping pain to gentler pressure, a coarse finger slicking over her bottom lip until she gasped and it plunged into her mouth. She bit down against the intrusion, then sucked voraciously when Wolverine’s shaft slid into her again, slower this time, drawing out a pitiful moan from her throat.

“Dirty slut,” he panted against her shoulder before biting down again at another virginal slice of skin under her top. “You like it slow? Tell me, tell me,” he chanted against her shoulder blade as he lapped at the sweat that had begun to bead her skin.

She nodded, afraid to say anything, his warning to cut if she spoke still fresh in her mind.

“Too bad,” he snarled and drove into her again, this time so hard her feet left the ground. She could feel him assaulting every part of her, vulgar and rough. She shrieked around the finger in her mouth as he pounded into her. Her legs curled up from the force of it and she wound her calves around his thighs, her weight now firmly supported by the rough arm around her chest and her face smashed into the bike saddle. Despite the pain and brutality of it, something unwound in her and what was at first painful and coarse started to become slick and teased at the heat at the base of her spine. Every pinch to her nipples and tear of her skin under his teeth stoked an unnamed tension in her, pushing her breath out of her in increasingly shrill whines.

Wolverine heard her breath hitch and felt the gush of fluid against his thigh as her pussy became wet despite his violent treatment. The spicy smell of her growing arousal made him grin ferally against her back and urged him to pound against her taunt leather clad ass even harder. When her calves came up and wrapped against the back of his thighs, he groaned harshly at the feel of her pulling him closer and thought he might burst right then at her unconscious gesture. He slowed and withdrew in an agonizingly slow slide until the head of his cock almost emerged between her dripping lips, then he eased back in one luscious inch at a time, relishing the pulse and feel of her walls gripping him.

“So tight, so tight,” he groaned into her hair as he withdrew again and her back arched. He stopped twisting her nipple and stroked it, circling it with two fingers before gently rolling it between then, then covering her breast with his palm and softly cupped it. He was rewarded with a soft wail from the Rogue around the finger still in her mouth. As he slipped once again slowly into her grasping, soaked heat he removed his hand from her mouth and face and cupped her chin, turning her head back so he could see her face.

The unguarded pleasure-pain that skated across her features, her eyes squeezed tight shut, almost unmanned him and he had to grit his teeth to not explode in her right then. Then she moaned as he eased from her again, this time teasing her clit with the tip of his cock. Her eyes flashed open at this new sensation skating across her nerves, saw him leering at her over her shoulder. He slid once more against her clit, and her stomach flipped over inside her, and she glared back at him, her insides aching, thirsting for the feel of him again.

“Oh…uh…fuck you…tease,” she moaned. Her tongue slicked over her plush lower lip and she jerked back and crashed down onto him hard, her hips clashing into his.

He came undone at the wanton sound of her voice and the bitchy look on her face. He roared loud and pounded into her once more, driving himself closer to the edge, her pussy clamping down on his cock as he brutalized her virgin body harder than before. He bit into her bicep and chewed on her flesh, whispering vulgarities into her skin.

“You like being a slut, don’t you? Don’t you!” he demanded.

“Shit…uh…yes!” she screamed. “Harder you bastard!” She ground against him again, swiveling her hips in a way that made him dizzy. The hand that had been cupping her breast snaked down and crushed against her clit, rolling it hard against her pelvic bone. She shrieked once more and he felt her inner walls pulse and shudder around his cock, pulsing in waves that threatened to drain him dry, but he wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

Bitch needs to learn who's in charge.

He pinched her clit hard with his leather clad fingers, pounded into her 5 more times hard as he could, and growled when she flew apart under him, her thighs quivering where they were wrapped around his hips now, her calves clenched hard against his ass as she bucked and pulled him to her as she came like a fucking locomotive, gasping and squealing.

She’d barely come down when he shoved her legs from him and grabbed her hair, jerking her upright against his chest.

“Bad girl,” he muttered into her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her face. She was flushed and sweaty and smelled well fucked, but he wasn’t done yet. “You weren’t supposed to enjoy that.”

Her eyes were bright with adrenalin and spite, and she apparently wasn’t well fucked enough to shut up. “Isn’t that what bad girls do?” she said nastily as she tried to throw an elbow at his nose.

He slapped her across the face, then spun her around and shoved her head down, kicking her legs so she crashed to her knees on the ground. “Suck it,” he drawled as he forced her face to his still hard cock. She tried to pull away from his condom covered shaft bobbing in front of her, repulsed.

“Nah-ah darlin, bad girls suck cock.” The hand not balled in her hair unsheathed claws and he prodded her throat with them. She glared up at him. Despite the smell of orgasm and arousal wafting from her, she still managed to give him a loathsome glare.

He nicked her throat with the tip of one blade. “Like you mean it darlin’,” he warned.

She lowered her eyes from his, and reached for him even as she said, “Fucking animal.”

He laughed, this claws tickling the sensitive spot where the white column of her throat met her jaw. “You love it, even if you hate it darlin’.”

Then he lost his ability to speak when her mouth closed over him. She slid down over his shaft, deeper than he though possible, then sucked hungrily, her lips drawing at his base hard. He felt her tongue through the latex rub against the large vein that run the underside and he pulsed hard in her wet, hot grip. As she withdrew, her teeth dragged raggedly on him, harder than most men would like but just right for him, nasty and painful. As she consumed his cock in her plush dark lips his hips moved on their own, sinking into her depths in time with the motion of her head under his hand.

“Fuck…fuck…Rogue…good,” he panted, looking down to watch platinum strands free of his hand float over her face. Mesmerized he watched his shaft slide between those plump lips that were just made for sucking. Just as he was admiring them she peeled back her lips and raked her teeth hard down his length as she plunged towards his base and he jerked hard in her mouth. One of her gloved hands clawed up his thigh, tugging at his waistband, as the other reached down to massage his balls, cupping then twisting gently.

“Harder damnit,” he grunted and she obliged with a hard jerk on his scrotum. The pain was intense and thrilling. He wanted to hurt, painful sex was his favorite kind, it appeased the animal in him. Gripping her hard by the hair, he mercilessly mouth fucked her as she tugged and scratched at his balls until they suddenly tightened against him. He let go of her hair, put both hands on her shoulders and roared when she scraped her teeth hard against him, almost biting through the skin, and came in four hard pulses against the back of her throat.

He sagged back against the jeep door, ran his fingers through his hair, then looked down to see Rogue strip the condom off him roughly and fling it over her shoulder.

She cocked a grin up at him and said, “Did I mean it sugar?”

He laughed hard and cracked his neck, before reaching down to cup her cheek with his hand. She leaned into his hand and he relished the feel of her submission. He’d won, she was his, and she wasn’t going to fight him anymore.

One of her gloved hands stroked his softening cock and he grinned down at her, wondering if she was ready for round two.

Too late he saw the savage gleam in her eye as she dipped her head down and pressed her cheek against his bare flesh. The last thing he heard before his head crashed into the metal door of the jeep then to the rocky ground was, “This ain’t for you to enjoy, sugar.”

He didn’t even feel it when she started to stomp him.

You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you
Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell
Help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god
You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything
Help me tear down my reason, help me its' your sex I can smell
Help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god

Through every forest, above the trees
Within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
You are the reason I stay alive
End Notes:
Song: Closer by NIN...of course! What other song could be the sound track for some Rogan dark smexiness!

I have an itch to write an epilogue in which we see Rogue's reaction...but I need feedback on what you guys want!
No Song by Corinne
Author's Notes:
What started as an idea for just one single chapter more, an epilogue, had apparently bred with the dark plot bunny under my bed and now there's a plan to write at least 1-2 more.

What can I say, I suck at keeping my promises

Wolverine strikes a deal with the devil.
“Wake up.” A voice penetrated the murkiness of his thoughts as he swam slowly back to consciousness. He growled. That voice was never anything but trouble.

“Don’t you growl at me! And I said rise and shine buttercup!” A sharp slap was immediately followed by a dash of water in his face. His eyes snapped open and he snarled at the Rogue’s face leaning over his. He bared his teeth and tried to lunge for her, but he fell over awkwardly, his body unresponsive. Hell, even his bones felt like jelly.

“Nah-ah Wolverine,” the Rogue tsked and wagged a gloved finger in his face, her other hand disturbingly bare. “You ain’t going anywhere just yet. Now settle down before I zap you again.” She shoved her bared hand against his covered chest and he fell back, boneless. “I doubt even you can take much more before you’re down for the count for a few days.”

“Where am I?” he muttered darkly as he looked around and saw they were in a dingy hotel room.

“Pfft. You should know, you bring your skanky barflies here often enough,” she snarked.

“Jealous?” He smirked; he had plans for her defiant ass as soon as he got his body to stop feeling like marshmallows.

“Hardly. Just needed a placed to have a nice little talk with you. Wasn’t going to be very productive if I left you on the ground with your dick hanging out.” She smiled nastily at him.

“I ain’t one for much talking, kid,” he growled angrily at the smug look on her face.

“No, you’re a man of action, right? All action.” She lingered lazily over the last word and he could smell a frisson of excitement emanate from her. She saw he noticed it and snapped, “And don’t call me kid!” Her smug expression slipped a bit and the real anger under the surface bubbled up.

His eyes narrowed and he hissed, “Kid,” taunting her. He wanted to see what she’d do, what she was capable of.

She shrieked and snaked her bare hand out and latched onto his face. Agony scrawled through his body like razors under the skin, and he passed out again. When he awoke it felt like his mind was swimming through quicksand and his body wouldn’t respond at all.

Shit, she really packs a wallop he thought begrudgingly, as he fought to open his heavy lids and focus as the scene blurred before him. Normally he would be pleased to see Rogue leaning over him half naked, her red mesh shirt now gone, cropped tank under it rising high and exposing her breasts. She was straddling his hips, her damaged leather pants pressed tightly against him. She leaned down and crossed her bare forearms, both hands now ungloved, across his wife-beater covered chest and smiled tightly at him.

“Now, about that talk. As you can see, you’re in a vulnerable position.” She swiveled her hips against him, grinding down on him. She winked as she felt his body betray him and harden under her. “Piss me off again, call me kid…one…more…time,” she hissed, “and you’ll wake up next week in the middle of Death Valley.” Despite the playful movement of her hips on him, her eyes were deadly serious.

He glared at her as best he could through the dizziness that still muddled his mind.

Her eyes took on a playful glint, even as her lips twisted in a sneer. “You took something that didn’t belong to you Wolverine. And you didn’t even ask nicely.”

“Whatever, k-“ he paused, not wanting a repeat draining just now. “You wanted-“

She cut him off, “I’m a minor, legally not capable of giving ‘consent’.” She made little air quotes, her bare fingers flicking in front of his nose and he barely smothered a flinch.

“You’re not 17 in that crazy little head of yours darlin',” he bared his teeth at her serious expression. “Mags, Kurt, Jean, Mystique, Cyclops, Pyro, Storm,” he ticked off a partial list of the people she'd absorbed. “Shit, you’re mentally older than I am probably.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, one of his stolen gestures. “You think the Professor is going to be interested in splitting hairs? Especially after I show him what you did to me.”

“You took enough of my healing,” he spat at her empty threat. “You don’t have a scratch on you.”

“I don’t plan on showing him any bruises or bite marks. Damn, you are slow.” She tapped the side of her head. “He’ll see in my head what you did. He has a hard time getting in here when I don’t want him too, but if I project loudly he’ll get a replay…blow-by-blow.” She pursed her lips at the suddenly introspective look on Wolverine’s face and pressed on. “How you bent me over that bike, cut my face, ripped my pants open and said you were gonna fuck me like an animal," she purred maliciously, and the scent of her excitement rose to his nose.

Little bitch is playing me! His lips peeled back over his teeth and a low rumble rose from his chest. “You wanted it,” he sneered. “Still want it, you reek of need.”

The look on her face became harder at the same time her tongue slicked over her lips. “Maybe, maybe not. You never asked and I’m technically too young agree anyways. Xavier will only see what I want him to see, every vicious grope and every single nasty, dirty thing you said and did to me.” She settled more firmly onto the arms resting on his chest, pushing her bare breasts forward.

She had a point; from an outside view there was really only one way to interpret the situation. Even from his own view, what he’d done was pretty messed up even if he knew with 100% certainty Rogue had wanted it; in fact she’d done everything she could lately to taunt him over the edge, to bring him to the state where he’d had no choice but to totally posses her and take control back from her sneaky little hands.

Watching Wolverine contemplate what she’d said, the Rogue knew she had him on the ropes and brought out the heavy artillery. “You think Xavier would just run you off, kick you out? No way he’d turn you loose to molest other innocent little girl.”

“You weren’t innocent long before I ever laid a hand on you,” he barked. He smiled inwardly as she started back suddenly, before resettling on his chest and fixing her serious eyes on his again.

“He’ll get in your head and scramble your mind. You don’t think he will?” she asked at the critical expression on his face. “I’ll tell him you said Kitty was next.”

This time he did snarl loudly, “You lying slut!” His hand struggled up from his side, desperate to latch onto her throat and squeeze until the victorious grin on it disappeared. But his hand was bare and he couldn’t take the chance of coming in contact with her deadly skin again, he could barely move as it was.

She shrugged at his curse, “You wanted me to be a slut.” She quirked a bitchy smile at him. “Careful what you wish for.”

“What do you want?” he ground out, knowing she wanted him to pay for her silence.

“Hmm hmmmm,” she feigned thoughtfulness, tapping one deadly finger against her black slicked bottom lip. “Well, you took something from me that wasn’t yours…soooo,” she leaned down, deathly close, the breath from her lips tickling his face, her eyes slitted as she stared into his. “You can have it again, but I’ll take something from you in trade each time.”

“Trade?”

She ground her hips against him again, the opening in her leather pants letting him feel the heat of her through his uniform. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, then flew open wide when she sunk her head down to lick his nipple through his shirt, then bit it. He gasped as she continued her assault, her bare hands winding in his hair, skimming dangerously close to the skin on his temples. She shifted down, stroking her bare core against his thigh as her lips and teeth journeyed lower, sucking and biting through his shirt, tracing the line of his muscles, finding the sensitive hollow in his hips that made him buck unconsciously into her.

His hands rose slowly, still strained and heavy, and he traced the line of her bare back and shoulder, his fingers only an inch away from her soul-stealing skin. He wanted to touch her very badly, not just in retribution for zapping and cornering him with his own rash actions, but to make her squirm and call him a bastard then scream his name with want.

“Trade?” he prompted again, needing to finalize whatever twisted deal the little devil wanted, so they could move onto more enjoyable things.

She raised her head from where she’d been teasing his navel with her tongue and slithered up his body in a languorous crawl that zinged at his nerves and made his cock jump in his pants.

“Every time we fuck I’m gonna take a hit of those delicious powers of yours. Feels so good,” she purred. His eyes widened in shock at her proposition. No way was he going to let her zap him, steal his healing, and knock him on his ass whenever she wanted.

“Fuck you!” he spat, his hands now resting on her leather clad hips, free of her bare torso.

She squirmed against him, sliding her center against his uniform covered erection. “That’s the idea sugar,” she drawled then swooped at his face and kissed him roughly. Just before he shouted in agony and passed out he had one brief moment to enjoy the hot, slick feel of her tongue against his lips.


End Notes:
Coming up...various places to break rules around the mansion.

More smutty goodness to come. *evil grin*
The Closet by Corinne
Author's Notes:
No NIN music in this one, back to songfic in the next chapter I hope to have up by Tuesday night.

The bargain is struck and fulfilled.
For the next week, he patrolled the mansion and grounds, conducted DR training, and ate with the staff with seeming indifference to the Rogue and the cessation of their one on one practice. He had agreed with Xavier to let her privately train with Hank, acquiescing to the Professor’s assertion that the Rogue needed a diversity of training and Wolverine needed a break from her.

Yeh, I need a break…but not in training he thought savagely to himself as the Rogue sauntered by him in the hall after being informed of the new training regime. He could’ve sworn she winked at him, but her face was turned to a classmate yammering at her.

He was restless wondering when he might catch the Rogue alone and see if she intended to hold to the wicked deal she’d struck.

He tried 2 days after he’d woken alone in the hotel room, after she drained him one last time, to corner her. She walked into her bedroom late one night and he’d slid from behind the door and wrapped his arms around her covered waist, growling into her hair what he planned to do to her.

Her spine melted into his chest and she allowed one of his gloved hands to snake under her shirt to skim her ribs before she said, “I say when and where. Now get the fuck out of here.” She was utterly calm, her voice devoid of emotion despite the scent of her rising lust tickling his nose.

He turned her around and bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile at her and grunted, “Not part of the bargain, darlin’.” He wrapped his hands around her ass and squeezed, already lifting her from the floor to wrap her legs around his waist.

She took a deep breath, smiled wickedly at him, then screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Fuck!” Wolverine dropped her unceremoniously to the floor and jumped at the sound of feet pounding down the hall. The Rogue winked sarcastically at him as she gestured to the open window. With a brief snarl he leapt out the sill and dropped to the ground with a roll, then ducked into the shadows.

“Rogue, what is it? Are you alright?” Storm’s worried voice floated out the window.

The Rogue was a damn good actress, her voice just the right pitch to convey embarrassment and fear. “I…I thought I saw a mouse. Hate them.”

Wolverine cracked his neck and stalked away, the sound of the weather witch’s comforting words annoying the shit out of him.

Since that he was paranoid every time he was in the Rogue’s presence. The feeling of her gaze on him dogged his steps, felt like it seared his skin wherever her eyes landed. She brushed past him in the dining hall a little too casually to be accidental. He caught her one late night on the patio smoking and drinking and she licked her lips saucily at him before she told him he would not be giving her grief about breaking the rules. He silently walked away and grit his teeth in frustration. She had him by the balls in several ways.

In training classes she didn’t mouth off to him but swung her hips in a new way as she crossed the room and stared him boldly in the eye. He could smell wisps of her arousal even as she looked away dismissively to blab to a classmate, like he bored her already.

Wolverine muttered to himself what a fucking teasing bitch she while groping blindly through the supply closet, looking for another goddamn laser pointer for his tactical planning class. Someone always stole them from the classroom and trying to find a new one in this almighty monstrosity of post-its, notebooks, glue, paperclips, and 50,000 other things he had no idea what the fuck they were…it was pissing him off.

He was elbow deep in a box of all sorts of shit when something hit him hard from behind and he fell forward, smacked his chin on the shelf in front of him, and bit his tongue. With a growl he rounded only to be met with the sly faced Rogue, who threw the lock on the closet door behind her with a decisive click that made something at the base of his spine start.

“I say here,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “And now.” She stripped off her short black gloves and threw them in his face. He didn’t even bother to catch them and let them fall to the floor. He started towards her, canines glinting in the pale light that seeped under the door. She put out a hand dangerously close to his face and he stopped. She quirked an eyebrow at him, reached out with her slim, deadly fingers, laced them under into the collar of his shirt millimeters from his skin, and yanked hard, popping every button.

“I want to see more,” she said roughly and her husky Southern rasp sent a zap down his nerves. She pushed him by his still covered shoulder until his back hit the shelf he’d just banged is face on. He held still as her bare hands roughly stripped the shirt from him, and she threw it on the floor with a scowl.

She hated that she approached him so soon, but he hadn’t made it easy for her to resist for too long. The way he’d prowled into her room like he owned her, when no one owned her. She didn’t even own herself, out of control as she was. He tested her, fired her temper too often, and he needed to learn that no one did anything to her without her permission.

And her permission should be hard won, something he hadn’t done when he’d fucked her mercilessly and gloriously over a stolen bike on a gritty dirt road off the highway.

The Rogue was in charge now and she would make sure he knew it.

So she ripped his shirt off, baring acres of his skin and thick muscles before her deadly touch. Instead of the sight of another’s naked flesh making her nervous, like it normally did, a tight knot wound in her pelvis and she leaned forward despite herself and inhaled him; she couldn't resist. He smelled of cigars, oak, and an earthy scent that reminded her of deep green forests.

Goddamn that hairy chest in front of her, those muscles, especially the ones that traced down the sides of his rock hard abs and down to his lean hips and that delicious looking hollow at his hip right before it dipped below his jeans…she wanted to taste him, to know if he felt as vicious and heated on her tongue as he appeared in her eyes. She wanted to sip his sweat from that delectable hollow and take not only his flavor but his mutation. He…no…IT revved her up in a way nothing had ever done.

The undiluted, raw, animal strength of his power intoxicated her when she stole it as she'd pressed her cheek to his cock earlier, and it had grown only more addictive each time she’d knocked him out in the hotel room. Each time she’d touched him and ripped a piece of him away she felt like a missing slice of her was filled in. Bursting with indestructible ferocity and pulsing life. It throbbed through her with an almost animal sentience that made her whole nervous system tingle.

And the Rogue would take what he had because that was what she was born to do, to take what others possessed. She was a natural born parasite.

His mutation sang to her skin, made her ache for him.

No! Not him…I want his power.

She shook her head; it was his strength and rage and healing she wanted. It made her feel alive after so long just existing, numbed to life, but still hyper-aware of its pulsing vibrancy as it skated by just out of reach, literally escaping from her fingers each time someone shied away from her.

He didn’t move away from her. He sought her out. She wanted him to. She wanted him.

No! I want his mutation, not him she reminded herself with a vicious shake of her head.

Not his rough hands on her body. Not the dangerous and incredible things he growled in her ear when he took her violently.

She reminded herself that he was nothing but a fuel source for her mutation, a battery, a meal for her pulsing need to steal and suck the energy from everyone around her. She would use him, take his delicious power and walk away. Strike first, strike hard, strike last. That was her way.

Wolverine grinned down at her as she backed him against the shelves and pressed her covered chest against his bare one. She kept her hands behind her back, for now, and it thrust her shoulders back and chest forward. She wore a filmy emerald green shirt and he could see her lacy black bra down the low neckline. A black mini and tights covered lean, young legs that ended at knee high combat boots. Her dark eyes were lined heavily in dark green, which made the chocolate in them all the more dark. Her eyes boiled like black coffee.

Wolverine put a heavy hand on each hip and pulled her to him so she could feel him hardening against her.

She smelled frustrated, sexually and otherwise, and pissed off. It was mouthwatering, so different from how he’d ever been approached by other women, barflies who usually reeked of lust and booze.

He could tell she was unable to help her need and it ticked her off something fierce; he knew how she felt. He wanted to wring her little neck for a moment, angry that she could make him feel like this, but no dice with no gloves and half his body bare to her poisonous embrace.

She planned it that way, so he would be distinctly aware of her power, and he was…but he didn’t plan to be gentle regardless.

“C’mere,” he snarled and wrapped his hands around her thighs and yanked them up around his hips, her tights rasping against his skin, her skirt hiked up. The Rogue’s breath caught and he felt the heat from her core against his stomach.

She's not wet yet. I'll let her get there.

With her legs wrapped around him, Wolverine eased his hands under her arms and held her by her shoulders, as he leaned over and tipped her back so he could bury his face in her tits.

The Rogue realized taking off her gloves and his shirt put her in the predicament that she couldn’t hold onto him hardly anywhere without knocking him the fuck out and ending this bit of rough she’d been thinking about endlessly. Lacking any other options, she wound her fingers in his wild hair and gripped fiercely to keep from falling back from his arms. His reaction was spectacular and took her breath away as he breathed roughly against the pale slice of skin showing from her shirt before he made a rough, wet swipe at her breast through the silk of her shirt, before biting down slightly, bruising her flesh.

She moaned at the sensation and arched her back to allow him more access.

“You get too loud kid, and we’ll get caught,” he rumbled. Before she could snap at him for calling her kid again, he sucked roughly at her nipple through her bra and shirt and she forgot to chastise him.

“Then again,” he panted against her, “kinda exciting, yeh?”

The Rogue took her lower lip between her teeth to stifle another gasp as he bit then licked her breasts, and only nodded as she twinned her hands again into his hair and tugged him closer.

SNIKT! Before she knew what was happening, she felt her bra fall away under her shirt.

“Neat trick,” she drawled with wide eyes as he looked up and leered at her.

“I got plenty of others,” Wolverine taunted and didn’t move, just looked at her, pinning her with dark eyes that felt that bored into her. He was still and appeared content to hold her suspended over him indefinitely until he got what he wanted.

She decided it didn’t all have to be a battle of wills every damn second and said in a heated whisper, “Show me.”

Wolverine growled and sunk his face back to her breasts as something in the back of his brain howled in a frenzy to hear her want something, anything…want him. He breathed on one nipple, saturating the fine silk of her shirt with his breath before sweeping it into his mouth and laving it with the tip of his tongue, back and forth, just flicking it.

She squirmed in his arms, wanting more pressure, more heat. She wanted him to bite her, hurt, make her feel on the outside like she did inside. “Harder damnit!” she hissed in his ear, her breath tingling his skin.

Wolverine grunted in satisfaction and bit down. She gasped and squealed. “Shut up,” he growled, into her chest.

“Well then quit making it feel so fucking good,” she hissed. He laughed into her shirt, then snaked his tongue back out to run across her neck, just hidden under the silk. Feeling her pulse leap under his tongue, the scent of her skin just under his nose, sweat just forming at her temple; it made him feel 10 feet tall. He ran one hand down her back, dragging roughly down her skin and leaving marks, and mentally celebrated as he made her sigh.

Then he slipped one hand in between her legs. “Ya don’t mean that darlin’” he muttered into her hair and slid his fingers down her crotch, pleased her wasn’t wearing panties under her tights. “Yer already wet,” he said accusingly, lifting his head from her neck to wink at her.

“Shut up or I’ll drop ya,” she threatened then her eyelids fluttered over her angry glare as he rubbed for forcefully against her lower lips, finding the center of her pleasure.

“Oh, you definitely don’t mean that.” He bit down on her other nipple now, licking hard, soaking the material until it clung sleekly to her curves. He twisted his fingers against her again and she yelped. He almost slapped his hand over her face, but stopped millimeters from her skin when he remembered his hands were bare. He nudged his foot behind him and snagged his shirt, kicked it up to catch, and covered his hand and her mouth with it.

“Now you can make all the noise you want darlin’,” he laughed darkly. His eyes glittered dangerously at her as she writhed against his free hand teasing the sensitive flesh between her thighs. He unleashed one claw, sliced her tights, and the delicious scent of her lust hit him like a physical blow and he bucked into her, his zipper grazing her sensitive flesh.

It bordered on pain and she loved it and ground hard against his groin and yanked his hair forcefully and dragged his mouth back to her breasts. He latched onto her again, biting harder now through the fine material. He broke through her skin and the copper zing of her blood made him more aggressive. He spun them around and shoved her back against the shelves and bowed her back under the pressure as he grabbed from his back pocket the condom he’d carried 24/7 since the hotel. As he tore it open with his teeth, her hands scrabbled at his Indian head belt buckle.

“Careful there girl, don’t want to end this party before it starts,” he reminded her as her fingers worked an inch from his bared stomach.

“Shut up and get this off!” she snarled. He laughed at her impatience and flicked the buckle open with one hand and lowered the zip. She reached for him then cursed when she remembered she had no gloves. He grabbed one of her wrists, covered by her long sleeves, and led her hands back to his head. Once her fingers were again firmly in his hair and drawing aching patterns against his scalp he slid the rubber onto his cock then put his hand with the shirt back over her mouth.

“Ya make me hard girl’” he said glaring into her eyes, “Ya wanna feel what ya do to me?” Her eyes were wide and she made something that sounded like a whimper under his grip. “Scream if ya like darlin’.” And he thrust into her violently. She shouted and bit him through the shirt as her eyes rolled back.

He pounded into her, loving the feel of her all that velvet and steel wrapped up in a sinful package pulse around him. It made him crazy. Both of his hands circled down to clutch her ass and drove her down onto him. The Rogue grabbed the shirt as it fell from his hand and shoved it against her mouth, making all sorts of luscious sounds that spurred him on. He pressed his chest against her and drove her back into the shelves again; the feel of wet silk and the smell of their fucking pushed the animal in his mind to the forefront as he pistoned into her smooth fire.

“Open you eyes,” he demanded. The Rogue shook her head and panted into his shirt. “Open you eyes damnit, I want ya to see it when I fuck ya darlin’!” he growled hoarsely.

She obeyed and he almost howled at the thrillingly angry look in her eyes. She didn’t like being told what to do but was unable to resist when he made her body sing.

“Tell me what ya want Rogue,” he ground out as he leaned into her hair and slicked his tongue against her ear, protected by platinum strands, “Ya want me to go harder?” She nodded. “Damnit, TELL ME!” he said dangerously loud.

Her eyes darted to the closet door, reassured herself it was locked, and lowered the shirt from her mouth. “Fuck me hard! Fuck me fuck me fuck me,” she panted against his cheek in time with each brutal motion he made to pound her down onto him. She used her hands in his hair as leverage to thrust herself into him, matching his fantastic strokes and driving him to an insane rhythm that made his bones feel like they were melting, like the metal in his bones had pooled to his groin and made him hard enough to pound railroad spikes through concrete with his cock.

He couldn’t take it anymore and threw her down on the floor, never breaking the connection, and threw her tights-clad legs over his shoulders and ground into her with a snarl and bit into the shirt that covered her mouth, burying his own rising growl. She almost ripped his hair from his head, pulling his head back and arching his hips harder into hers. Her thighs locked on each side of his neck as she shimmied under him, panting harder and harder. He felt so close and she was too by the smell of it and the sound of her heart rate speeding up until it almost sounded like a hum.

He locked eyes with her over the shirt they both clutched in their teeth and growled. The sound she made in return, a heated snarl of her own that matched his in ferocity, undid him completely. He reached down and, mindless of his bare hand, pitched her clit hard. The wetness from her pleasure slicked his fingers and rendered her mutation harmless for one pivotal moment.

She bowed against him like a taut wire and screamed into his mouth through the shirt, her hands scrabbling in his hair and she pulled out a chunk, which threw him over. The feel of her velvet pussy and the pain of her hands snapped the Wolverine and he came so hard spots danced in front of his eyes as he stared down at her. Her eyes were wide open but unseeing as wave after wave of pleasure pounded through her from the heated joining, radiating outwards from her core to the tips of her fingers.

She gasped, her mouth open and the shirt fell away as she whispered, “Oh…oh…Logan…oh.” Her voice fell on his ears like a prayer, solemn and timeless, and reason left him. He spat the shirt out and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her was sour honey on his tongue. Bitter, sweet, and strong.

That was the last thought he had before blinding pain took him down into darkness.

When he woke up he was flat on his back in the storage closet, his shirt down around his shoulders, even if the buttons were gone. He reached up and swiped a hand across his clammy cheek, feeling like shit. When he noticed remnants of Rogue’s black lipstick on it, he reached up with his finger and the traced the perfect dark slick outline of her lips against his cheek and grinned.
End Notes:
Next chapter singfic will be Reptile by Nine Inch Nails.

Listen to it and don't feel guilty LOL!

I am a comment whore. Feed the best!
Leech by Corinne
Author's Notes:
ok, no song in this chapter, the Rogue took me in a new direction. next chapter will be songfic and some Rogan hottness in detail.
Two days later Rogue cornered him in the men’s locker room after self-defense class. He was buck naked in the shower and she still wore her uniform. She smirked and flashed him a foil packet in her fingers. Wolverine was roughly pressed against the tiled wall as the Rogue skipped her next class and gave him the longest, wettest, most incredibly teasing and mind-shattering blow job of his life before she bit the shit out of his left hip. She left him passed out on the floor of the shower room, his healing factor slowed, and she smiled in satisfaction to watch him bleed a bit from her mark.

Serves you right for cutting my face she thought maliciously. Although she was rather tempted to kick him she settled for biting him one more time at the spot where his neck met his shoulder and took another hit of him.

He only came to when the hot water ran out and he was stung awake by ice water pounding over him.

The following day she ambushed him while he was out running, hiking her skirt up to show him her tights, and let him bend her over a tree trunk. He woke up alone and very pissed off because she touched him before he came.

The Rogue wanted to know what he was thinking at that moment as he bent over her, pounding away and slavering into her shirt, needed to know what she made him feel as she ground her hips against him, if he still thought she was a bratty little shit. Without thinking past the moment, she yanked his head down and pressed her cheek against his as he panted how tight and smooth she felt. It took her a minute to shove his dead weight from her then she was pissed neither of them had gotten off, so she stomped off to the Danger Room and left him on the ground.

His thoughts had been all heat and lust and thoughts of things he’d yet to do to her; nothing she’d been looking for.

What she’d hoped to hear from his thoughts, she didn’t know.

Even though the Rogue sucked away his consciousness like a leech apparently his boner was made of tougher stuff than the rest of him and stood proudly at attention when he opened his eyes on the forest floor. Wolverine groaned and had to suffer the indignity of a wank in the woods before he could walk normally back to the mansion.

Four days went by and Wolverine was about to crawl out of his skin before she favored him with a rough, leather-gloved hand job in the garage that made him pop his claws and slice apart a work bench when he came on her tights.

But it hadn’t even taken the edge off his need for the Rogue, so Wolverine tried to force her back over the hood of his jeep for a proper fuck when she growled in defiance, really growled like some sort of animal. He flashed sharpened canines at her response, enjoyed that he could make her wild. The Rogue flipped them so he was the one spread over the car then ripped up her left sleeve and ground her forearm over his larynx, crushing it. Wolverine’s eyes widened at the pain of her powerful grip and the yellow that suddenly flashed in her eyes. Her mutation ripped sense away and he fell into night. He didn’t wake up on his own but instead was found by Storm, crumpled in a heap next to the cars.

Damnit. I know Storm didn’t buy I was taking a nap, not with my zip down he snarled to himself. He needed to warn that crazy girl she needed to be more careful about when and where she decided to play their little game. There were only so many times it could happen in the mansion itself before someone figured out who was knocking him out all over the place.

It would be safer if she came to my room. Yeh, but not as fun. This ain’t about safe.

The danger of being caught out was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her body, the smell of her anger and arousal that made him hunger for more. He wanted to push her buttons the same way she played with him.

It burned him up she was in total command of where and when and how she let him to touch her, and it infuriated him that he so much enjoyed the stolen moments she allowed him. The anticipation, the wondering, the tension that scrawled through his body every waking moment of each day just waiting for her to come to him again, raced through his system like a drug.

Excruciatingly extended foreplay that dragged for hours and days. As painful as it was to wait for her and then surrender his control, he had to admit it made for the most mind-blowing sex he’d ever had.

He didn’t get a chance to test her again before Xavier called him away on an intel operation in Colorado.

With Wolverine gone for the last few days Storm laid out the DR mission particulars to the students. The alpha team, made up of Nightcrawler, the Rogue and Cyclops, were to make their way across a destroyed cityscape, recover the captive (Kitty as the mutant in distress), and rendezvous on top of a skyscraper for pick up. Along the way the beta team, composed of Jean, Iceman and Beast, would try to stop them at all costs, figuratively speaking.

Storm emphasized this sim would test their teamwork and creative mutation usage for each team to accomplish their goals. The Rogue and Cyclops started down the street, each to one side sliding in and out of doorways and shadows to minimize detection while Kurt bamfed above them along building fronts, scouting ahead and relaying directions through their headsets. The battle hit them quick and hard when Jean levitated cars from the street and threw them at the alpha team. While Scott blasted most of them out of the way the Rogue had to rely on her own quick feet and Kurt’s porting to deliver her from harm’s way. Unfortunately, he landed them onto a fire escape 5 stories up which was directly in Beast’s sight line and the huge blue furred mutant lept down on them with a roar. Kurt shoved her out of the way as he scampered up the wall and over Beast’s back to grab him. Crawler ported both blue mutants to an alley down the street, and the Rogue made a beeline down the fire escape.

Just her luck Iceman showed up when she was still 40 feet from the ground. He skimmed past her on an ice slide and grinned as he shot a blast intended to freeze her to the brick wall at her back. She rolled out of the way and slid down another flight of rusty stairs, determined to get back to the ground where she’d have more room to move. Up here she was a sitting duck. He shot a few more blasts she barely managed to avoid before he decided the fire escape itself was easier to hit, iced the grate at her feet, and laughed as she slipped and she fell hard on her side.

The sound of his laughter pissed her off fierce and something snarled in her head, demanding to punish the boy’s insolence. Iceman guided his slide into a gyre to come back around and finish her off. She scrambled to her feet and when his back was turned she balanced booted feet on the metal railing and flung herself at him. She slammed into him and he lost his balance, dalling off the slide from the momentum and dragging her down with him. They tumbled toward the concrete, barely missing bashing their brains out when he aimed down and another slide materialized underneath them. Rogue’s breath slammed out of her as she crashed into it and whizzed down it the last few feet to the ground, her teammate-now-enemy right behind her. As soon as she hit the ground she rolled into a somersault and was already on her feet while Iceman was still picking himself up.

“What the hell Rogue?!” he shouted. “You almost splattered us!”

“Kinda the point, yeh?” She snarled and threw herself at him, colliding hard with his frozen form with no care for injury or pain, only to fight and dominate. He yelled when she flattened him with a hard shoulder to the gut. Ice or no, he groaned in pain.

He tried to freeze her in place, but she jumped gracefully to avoid his strike, then cartwheeled behind him and jumped. She put a brutal choke hold on his neck, cracking the glassy cold surface of his skin. One of her gloves was off and she pressed her fingers to his face and took him down for the count. Unconscious, Iceman reverted back to his normal form and lay in a large puddle. The Rogue smiled grimly as she latched onto his legs and dragged him into an alley then heaved him into a dumpster, which she froze shut.

She stalked down the middle of the street, pools of ice spreading from her feet as she went. Her blood fired to the boiling point and roared in her ears for another fight.

Find the hostage. Cut down anyone in our way darlin’.

Around the next corner she found Scott tangled up in a one-sided fight with Jean, one he was losing badly as he was reluctant to blast the object of his crush from the sky where she floated over him. Jean, on the other hand, had no compunction about telekinetically throwing all sorts of things at him with blinding speed: a door wrenched from a shop front, a lamp post, a mailbox. Cyclops, entirely on the defensive, dodged for cover and only peaked out to blow missiles from the sky with ruby blasts. The Rogue crept up on Jean’s blind side, bent down to grab her weapon, then slung the metal garbage lid like a giant Frisbee. Distracted with pinning Scott down behind a burning car, Jean never sensed the attack until it was too late. The lid slammed into the side of her head with crushing force and she fell from the sky unconscious. Scott looked up to see her tumbling through the air and raced towards her, flinging himself out to catch her before she crashed to earth.

The Rogue snarled, “Don’t be saving the enemy bub!” and glared at him, her eyes flashing.

Cyclops rounded on her, still cradling Jean in his arms, “This is a training session Rogue! What’s wrong with you?! You could have killed her!!” A crimson haze peeked around the edges of his visor and she could tell he was sorely tempted to blast her, fury spiking his scent.

“Just try it,” she warned. “C’mon Boy Scout, let’s see if you got the guts.” She iced her gloved hand and fisted the bared one menacingly. At the dangerous look on her face, he took an unconscious step back, holding Jean tighter. The Rogue looked him up and down, taking his measure, and finding him lacking she turned her back on him contemptously.

Nice shot darlin’. Near took her head clean off. And he ain't worth the effort. Eyes on the prize. She refocused her attention on the objective: get to the hostage.

The Rogue and Nightcrawler re-established communication via their headsets after he managed to port Hank a fair distance away and left him in a junkyard before bamfing to meet up with her at the base of the warehouse in which Kitty was held. They circled to the back and cased the building for a usable entrance. All the doors were blocked with fallen debris. She contemplated freezing the junk and busting in, but Crawler reminded her they shouldn’t lead Beast to them with a racket. He had a point; she could smell the good Doctor out there, somewhere.

“Can you port us in?” she grunted to her teammate.

“No, I have to see where I’m going or it could get messy,” he whispered.

She growled low in her throat, wondering what use he was then. “Fine,” she ground out. “Up there then,” and she pointed to a balcony 3 stories up. “I think that window is clear, so we can port in from there.” Kurt nodded, latched 3 fingers onto her shoulder and in a cloud of sulfur they rematerialized at their destination. Just as their feet hit the balcony the decrepit floor gave a low groan and the whole thing shifted dangerously. Instinctively Rogue spun Kurt in front of her and shoved hard to get him off the unstable structure, and he crashed through the glass of the window and into the warehouse.

“Shit,” Rogue growled and leapt after him just as the balcony tore away from the building and fell with an almighty crash to the ground below.

“So much for the quiet approach,” she chuckled as she looked out the shattered glass and down at the mess.

“I could’ve bamfed us through, no need to throw me,” Kurt groaned, rolled over on the floor, and pushed himself to a seated position, breathing heavily.

“Reflex. Sorry kid. You’ll live,” she rasped and gave him a slap on his back that made him wince. She started to pull him up but the smell of his blood rose to her nose and she pulled back. Nightcrawler leaned heavily against a wall and favored one leg, the other dripping red splashes onto the floor.

She huffed, “You can’t walk. Stay here.” She walked away, icing up her hands in preparation.

“You can’t leave me here,” Crawler hissed, “Beast will find me.”

“My priority is getting the hostage. I’ll come back for you.”

“Rogue!” But she was already gone, sneaking down the busted up staircase, stepping lightly over rotting boards and snaking her feet quietly over the groaning floor. A sweep of the lower levels revealed nothing, so she rose again to check the uppers. She passed the room where she’d left the teleporter, but he was gone and only a smear of his blood remained.

She slipped quietly along the hall, heading for the next staircase to take her to the final few floors where she should find Kitty. A low growl behind her was her only warning before she was thrown the length of the hall by a huge furry blue cannonball. She blasted ice in front of her and the force slowed her down so she only bumped into the frozen wall rather slammed than through it. She whirled and crouched down, hissing at Beast as he stalked towards her, knuckles dragging the floor and chest out like a great silverback gorilla. He grunted challengingly then charged with a roar, his mouth open wide to show great canines. With a howl of fury she flung herself at the larger mutant, determined to establish herself as the dominant animal.

Beast was taken aback; he’d thought she would try evade him and run, not take him head on. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to seriously hurt a student with his strength, and that was all the opportunity the Rogue needed. She iced the floor in front of her and slid on her knees past him, her bare hand clutching at his face as he turned in her direction. A second was all it took to render him unconscious and steal his strength and senses, thankfully not his blue hair.

His mutation was not nearly as feral as Wolverine’s, not as appealing to her thirst, untainted by rage and tempered by cool rationale. She wasted not a moment over his slumped form and stalked up the last remaining flights of stairs towards Kitty’s scent. She found the girl tied to a chair in a storage closet, and the hostage gasped in relief when her blindfold was ripped off and she saw her classmate.

“Untie me and I’ll phase us out of here.” She squirmed in her bonds. When the Rogue didn’t make a move to release her Kitty looked up and flinched at the forbidding glare that bored into her with cold precision. “Uh, where are Scott and Kurt?”

Rogue took off her other glove and said in a low voice that sent a thrill of terror up Kitty’s spine, “Just you and me kid," The Rogue reached towards her classmate’s face, the need to take another’s power surging through her body like a fever. So focused on the meal in front of her and Kitty’s delicious and fearful whimpers, she never heard Cyclops come up behind her before he blasted her in the back and knocked her out.
End Notes:
next chappie will be up Saturday or Sunday
Reptile by Corinne
Author's Notes:
ok, this was going to be a smutty chapter, but it skewed in an entirely new direction i hadn't expected. i definitely plan more smut, just had to go where the plot bunny took me.

Logan, surprisingly, has the patience of a saint in this chapter. not sure if it really works with this story overall, but the characters drove me in this direction.

The Rogue was up on the roof, wrapped in ebony night and the blackness of her own soul, if she had one. Of that she wasn’t sure at all.

Her mind turned over the heated argument in the Professor’s study after she’d come around from Cyke knocking her silly. Iceman, Jean, and Beast were still in the med lab and Kitty had flinched as the Rogue passed her in the doorway of Xavier’s study.

She’d endured an endless lecture from Xavier and Storm. The Professor tried to probe her mind and was rewarded with an angry snarl from her and a painful mental image of a steel door, larger than any in Ft. Knox, slamming in his face, shutting him out of her thoughts. Xaiver repeatedly chastised her for hurting the beta team and trying to drain Kitty.

Sick of it all, the Rogue finally snapped. “What do you want from me? To never use my powers except in a real battle?” She’d cut to the quick of the argument in her usual no bullshit fashion. “All the others use them every day, train with them, live with them, and none of them are in here getting their ear bent with this sanctimonious shit!” Her voice lowered, no longer shouting but even angrier in its calculating coldness. “Just cut the crap and admit it…I scare you. You and I both know it.”

“But Kitty-“ Storm said.

“Got a little greedy, that’s all.” Storm flinched at the sting of those toxic words. The Rogue shrugged in a casual way that chilled Xavier to the bone.

Nodding in satisfaction at the unsettled look on Xavier’s face she pressed on, “You’re not really worried about or Jean or Beast or anyone else’s safety, so quit lying to me. You’re afraid of what I could really do if you don’t keep me on a tight leash.”

The Rogue stood up and walked to the door, ending this discussion on her own terms, “If you want me to fight with you then I’ll use my powers when and how I choose to finish a mission. If I don’t then I’m just bringing a knife to a gunfight, and that’s a liability. I’ll train with my mutation too, if you got anyone left ballsy enough to let me near them.”

She opened the door and stood in the doorway with her back to them for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. Her frame shifted as she sighed deeply then looked over her shoulder at the Professor and Storm with a hard look. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt people. It’s what I do. But I’ll try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

She strode from the room, went to her own and threw her training uniform in the garbage can. The Rogue looked at it for a good 5 minutes before she took it out again and put it in the laundry chute before pulling on a pair of baggy jeans and an old flannel shirt 3 sizes too large and her combat boots. The Rogue grabbed her smokes and a fifth of whiskey she’d bought with her fake ID then headed for the roof to clear her head.

Looking at the empty doorway Storm shivered then looked at Xavier, who sat with his fingers steepled under his chin, elbows resting on the desk. “What do we do, Charles?” she whispered.

“I don’t know that there’s anything we can do, Ororo.” The weather witch sank heavily into a chair. He continued, “The Rogue is right. If she’s to fully realize her power and her place here we have allow this, as much as it disturbs me. If not, she will leave and we cannot risk her falling into the hands of someone with less benevolent intentions.”

Storm sighed, as she knew Magneto or Mystique where just two of many who would do anything to have the Rogue in their possession. It was better if she remained here, and in order to accomplish that they’d have to let her do this her way or she’d leave them. The world was safer with her under Xavier’s roof, even if her presence screamed danger to all those within reach.

The Rogue took another long draw on her cigarette and slit her eyes against the smoke as she stared unseeing over the vast Institute grounds. For all her bravado and seeming indifference in Xavier’s office, what had happened in the DR disturbed her to the core.

She hadn’t just taken down the beta team, she’d wanted to hurt them and had without remorse. Consumed in the fight she’d lost sight of the true goal of training, to learn to control one’s mutation and use it to the benefit of others. All she’d wanted was to fight and dominate all others, see them sprawled at her feet, and benefit only herself. Seeing them fall under her hands filled her with a sense of uncontrollable power.

She not just taken down her enemies but tried to drain a helpless victim, Kitty. She was made to suck the life from all around her, everything about her make up made her a leech. And it made her sick to think that was all she was.

It wasn’t just the powers she gained, but the actual act of taking possession of someone was irresistible, addictive. Whenever she took a mind the void inside her abated temporarily losing some of its gravity. When another’s consciousness washed over her she felt like she was breathing for the first time, honestly feeling again at the remembrances of previous hugs, caresses, handshakes flashing through their joined minds.

Where ethics, morals, compassion should have bloomed in her under Xavier’s ministrations all she saw was the barren and blistered landscape of her soul, devoid of anything beautiful. Where should have sat a teenaged girl sat on the slanted roof was an woman jaded beyond her years and if she thought about it hard enough she might have realized it made her sad. But such emotion often flowed too deeply under the turbulence of her mind for her to notice, only anger floated up from the depths.

She heard the Blackbird land but ignored it. He could come or not, it didn’t matter; what she wanted held no significance. There was no room for hope or want in her life as that way laid only disappointment and regret. Her mind was too crowded to allow space for any of that.

Wolverine sat down heavily next to her on the roof. Soon as he’d was off the plane Xavier informed him what had happened and insisted Logan speak to her immediately, as he seemed the only person she even pretended to listen to. Wolverine knew that was just a façade she kept up for convenience’s sake most of the time. She was too hard-headed to hear anything the teachers said to her, too pissed, too convinced she was beyond help.

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t he thought to himself as he examined the far-away look on her face as she gazed blankly at the glowing end of her cigarette. Either way she’s too young to give up trying. He didn’t have to be telepathic to know the Rogue was walking away from any possibility of peace in her soul.

She’d had an inviolate spark of defiance that burned like a sun, all the brighter when it shone in stark relief to the midnight of her pain at her mutation. Her flame was slowly dying each time she denied her true nature: that her mutation was a true part of her, could even be the best part if she stopped tilting her axis towards the void and found balance. She mourned her gift and allowed herself to be consumed in bleak contemplation of the life of solitude to which she felt she was condemned. Right now her mutation controlled her and she was only the vessel for it, a parasite manifestation good only for taking.

He grit his teeth, internally raging at the dying of her light. He could see the shutters lowering over her gaze a bit more every day, a familiar look he’d seen in the mirror many years ago, before he’d learned that he controlled the beast even if sometimes it was a ferocious and painful fight.

“Wanna talk about it?” he rumbled after a few minutes of silence.

The bitter laugh that escaped her scraped his nerves like flint. “Since when do we talk?” No sneer in her voice, just resignation.

He held his hand out for the whiskey, which she shared with him without a sound. She laid her forearms over her raised knees then pointed one gloved finger upwards. Around them snowflakes fell, drawn from the ambient humidity around them, too early in the fall to be anything but the mutation she’d stolen. He contemplated the flakes as they fell over them, dusting his shoulders and settling in her hair.

“Was it worth it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” A ring of truth in that statement. “Xavier doesn’t think so, but he doesn’t know everything.”

He nodded and passed her back the bottle as he lit a cigar, cupping the tip to keep it from dying in the little snowfall she generated while Iceman’s power was still with her. She chain smoked cigarettes as they finished the fifth in silence, in the snow.

She finally stood up and slapped flakes from her shirt. “I’m going for a ride.” He growled low in his throat. “I’m not taking the bike, don’t feel like fighting with you right now.”

“Then I’m driving, you’ve had too much to drink.”

She laughed, a sound that fluttered away on dark wings in the cold air. “There ain’t enough booze in the world to get me drunk enough.”

“Know the feeling. C’mon.” He nodded to the roof hatch.

“Meet ya down there,” and she flashed him one quick smile, something so brief it might not have existed, and dropped off the side of the roof. He jumped too late to catch her and almost went over himself, then laughed hard at the sight of her slipping down an ice slide. Her feet crunched on the gravel as she stood up. “You coming old man?” her voice wafted up to him. He shook his head and headed for the hatch’ no way in hell he was going down that Slip ‘n’ Slide willingly.

He met her in the garage and to his surprise she was in the passenger seat of the jeep. He’d half expected to have to fight her for the wheel, but guess she telling the truth when she said she didn’t want a fight. “Where to?”

She shrugged and rested her elbow on the window sill, her chin in her hand. “No where with people. I don’t care, just drive.” So he did. Neither of them said anything, she only moved to play with the radio until she found something depressing enough to suit her. He drove them out of Westchester and into the county, just taking any road that looked deserted, twisting through the woods and heading generally west.

she spread herself wide open
to let the insects in


He chewed on his cigar at the blade sharp voice and moved his hand to change the station. She batted it away and went back to looking out the window, studying the darkness outside through the smoke of her cigarette. He drove onto a dirt track that seemed more broad horse trail than road and followed it down to the end, where it terminated a lake. He shut off the engine, but she didn’t move so he opened his own door and walked along the shoreline, the song winding through the still air as she cranked the volume.

she leaves a trail of honey
to show me where she's been


He remembered the first time he’d seen the Rogue, really seen her. She’d seemed so lost, keeping her company to herself, dancing alone in the forest to songs that seemed to have been ripped from nightmares. Her pain made music that surrounded her and shouted she was defective.

He knew now she wasn’t lost; she’d never found herself after she manifested.

she has the blood of reptile
just underneath her skin


She wasn’t inhuman, she just felt she was something less than everyone and everything around her.

She’s more he thought to himself. If she just knew it, felt something real for once instead of always making it so pain is all she gets.

She’d that from him and everyone else in the mansion in spades. Xavier wanted her potential and compliance. Wolverine had just wanted her body and defiance to match him in ferocity. They’d both used her to their own purposes.

And she used in return, taking from them anything she could to put herself back on even footing again, wresting control from the two most powerful men she knew.

“Y’know I can hear you.” He started, so deep in his thoughts he hadn’t heard her come up behind him. He looked over his shoulder at her. “In here.” She tapped one finger to her temple. “You make it better, make the others shut up.” She gestured again to her head then stepped to stand next to him a few feet away.

seeds from a thousand others
drip down from within


“I do?” Wolverine was surprised. “If anything I figured I’d make it worse, be all cussing and violent and shit.” He wanted to regret it, but he’d happily given her his mutation after the first few times she stole it from him. She wouldn’t have listened anyways if he’d told her about the beast within; she had one of her own. Maybe they kept each other company in her head.

Her lip quirked up in a mirthless smile. “Oh, you do that too, but it helps in a fight. When the others get loud you kick their asses to the back of my brain.”

“Yeh?” He’d never given much thought to the aspect of the Rogue’s mutation in which she kept the memories and sometimes the personalities and feelings of the people she’d touched, it seemed secondary to her powerful draining. “What happens to you when that goes down?”

“I’m there…I sit in a corner of my head and let you handle it. When you’re done you kinda fade away and it’s just me again.” She picked up a rock and skipped it across the water’s surface. “Most people up there are mad at me, so it’s nice to have someone on my side.”

“I’m on your side?” he said, turning over this new information in his head.

“Yeh.”

oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore


“C’mere,” he reached an arm out, but she shifted away.

“I ain’t in the mood,” she sighed.

“It ain’t about that for fuck’s sake.” Before she could protest further, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her to his chest. She didn’t fight, she didn’t pull away, just stood there woodenly with her hands at her sides.

my disease my infection
I am so impure


After what felt like hours she softened somewhat, at least brought her arms up to rest at his waist, her neck bending to fit into the hollow of his shoulder. “I am y’know, diseased, just a fucked up gene.”

“I’d argue with you, but I doubt you’d listen,” he said, with his chin resting on the top of her head.

devils speak of the ways
in which she'll manifest


“It’s possible there’s no limit to how many powers I could take at once. Xavier thinks I’m dangerous.”

“Are you?”

angels bleed from the
tainted touch of my caress


“I could kill you right now, if I held on long enough.”

“Yeh, you could. Would ya?”

“Do you want to die Wolverine?” Her breath stilled against his chest.

“Not today. Rain check?”

He felt her cheek shift against his shirt, knew she smiled.

need to contaminate to alleviate
this loneliness


“When I touch them they’re with me in a way they could never be outside my head. Never would want to be.”

“You lonely darlin’?”

She stiffened against him and pulled her head back to look up at him. “And if I was?” she said defensively.

“It’d just mean you’re human…well, human as folks like us get.” He rested his chin on her head again and she tucked herself back under his arm.

I now know
the depths I reach are limitless


He lowered his head and spoke into her ear, “I’m with you here and there,” as he tapped his finger on her head.

She grumbled, “You’d think with two dozen people partying it up in my mind I’d have more than just a one-man bench.”

He laughed, “Darlin’ ain’t I enough?” and she laughed too. “Seriously, how many of those people let you touch them? How many of them you just took it from?”

“All of them.”

“Nah, everyone but me. I let ya.” She shifted against him, pulling away again, but he just muffled her effort with his greater strength. “Ok, not at first.” He grinned down at her, “But after, you were welcome to it.”

This time she did managed to push herself away and stepped back from him, her face turned from his as she looked over the lake again.

He let her go; this was the crux of the thing.

She bent down and picked up another rock and tried to skip it, but it sank with a splash instead.

She wouldn’t look at him, “Only because I let you have sex with me. It was just a deal.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a flatly stated fact.

“Yeh, you let me….when you could’ve just taken my mutation whenever you wanted, snuck up on me, you’re pretty good at that.” She didn’t smile. “But you wanted something more than just my healing and the ability to growl good.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute and it started to snow again, an unconscious manifestation of the struggle within her. Suddenly she darted forward and shot her hands out at the lake. Wolverine started towards her, then stopped when the frozen power she’d stolen from Iceman spread across the water with a groan of splintering ice and small waves frozen at their peaks. Even after the surface solidified, she continued to pump her power into it, pushing into the depths until she’d frozen it all the way to the bottom.

Spent, she fell to her knees gasping. “I wanted control,” she spat, like it was poison on her tongue.

He stayed where he was and watched the sable and white flow around her face, which was a tight mask.

oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore


He walked over to stand next to her kneeling form. “Yeh, that too. But you really just want someone to give a shit about you, not your mutation or what you could do for them.”

She didn’t look at him as her shoulders slumped. “Liar. You don’t care, you want to use me just like everyone else,” she muttered.

“I admit it,” he couldn’t dispute the truth, “I did at first, I wanted what you offered and nothing more. I told you it was a game you couldn’t win.”

He put a hand on her shoulder and when she didn’t move he pulled her up to face him and took her shoulders in his hands. She kept her eyes hidden under waves of chocolate and platinum.

“I ain’t playing no more. If you want my help, if you want me, just ask and I’ll give it to ya. It’s not always about taking.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. “Is it always about control for you? Is it that hard to just ask, Rogue?”

At her name she finally looked at him and her eyes weren’t angry or dark but conflicted. “I don’t know how. It’s weak to need something from anyone.” Her voice was strained with suppressed emotion

“Just say it darlin’.” He held his breath, waiting to see if she would finally let down one of her walls just a few inches, reach out to someone for once.

“I just want to feel anything, something real, something true. Can you show me that?” she breathed.

Without hesitation, regardless of what would happen next, he pressed his lips to hers almost chastely, without any thought to conquering her, taking her body. He thought only of how she looked on the roof with snow in her hair. How she ran with him in the woods matching his steps, the sound of her voice when she said his name, the grin of triumph on her face when she made him tap out in the gym, her dancing in the woods.

He held on as long as he could through the agony that ripped through his body, not once regretting the pain because he freely gave it, so for once she didn’t have to take.
End Notes:
next chappie smut returns, no idea how though b/c this chapter took me off guard myself. but it won't be honey and roses, i know that.
The Great Destroyer by Corinne
When he woke up he was lying in his own bed at the mansion and it was after 4am. A post-it note was stuck to his forehead with spiky black writing on it.

“Even with Beast’s strength you’re still a heavy fucker. Lose weight. R.”

He smirked as he wadded up the note, then grimaced at the pain in his head. He covered his face with a pillow and hoped to get a couple hours sleep before his first class.

While Wolverine slept the Rogue brooded on their hours by the lake. He’d been unexpectedly calm, never snarling at her, actually rather kind. No accusations, no pity, no anger at what she’d done. In the moment his caring embrace had been unexpectedly welcomed and almost soothing.

It bothered the fuck out of her.

She didn’t know what to think. In the reality of the creeping dawn she was shaken by what had poured into her, like a tidal wave, in that last moment before she struck him down again with her killing kiss, the only kind she could ever give.

He’d offered up a lot to her; more than she deserved.

His face burrowed my hair.

He likes the way silver floats against his cheek.

My scent is spiced and sharp sweetness.

Sandlewood and citrus.

The feel of my body against his chest.

Slender velvet and brutal steel.

An irresistible pull to me.


The Rogue snorted and slapped herself in the face, snapping her thoughts back from such drippy musings.

I’m not beautiful. I’m not anything like that.

I’m nothing at all.


She had to get a grip. This was ridiculous, and he had to be completely delusional to think she was anything good. That she had or was anything worth the intense and hungry emotions that clung to her mind and dripped like inky molasses through her defenses.

She stiffened her spine and made an iron clad resolution with herself. She was going to stay the hell away from him. He was confusing her carefully ordered world view and sense of self.

And that shit was going to stop. No one confused her. No one handled the Rogue. Made her weak. Made her say thing she never meant to say, no matter how much she longed to for years. No one made her reveal herself.

Even if he walked by in those tight ass jeans looking like sex on two hairy gorgeous legs. Even if his every muscle bulged in that uniform and made her want to pant. Not even if he flashed those fucking insanely erotic claws and growled like an untamed beast and it made her panties drop to the floor in a soaking mess.

Shit, I’m screwed.

The Rogue groaned and buried her face in her hands as she tried to banish the taunting images away. She tried to draw on McCoy’s cool and rational thoughts to analyze the way Wolverine made her feel, something clinical and detached that involved pheromones and her own menstrual cycle or an alternate reality where her mutation was slavering nymphomania.

No dice.

She despaired as she realized Beast’s clarified reasoning had sunk into the recesses of her mind when his strength had deserted her after she deposited Wolverine in his room.

Too soon she realized the sun had risen. She was hung-over all to hell and hadn’t slept at all, her mind too frantic to allow any rest. She scowled then decided it didn’t matter if she was late to her first class, it was just stupid calculus and it wasn’t like she’d ever use it once she left school.

Leaving school…the thought niggled at her.

What would she do when her high school education was over? Would she be expected, even required, to be an official X-man? If she said no, would they kick her out?

Did she want to stay? If she left where would she go and what on earth would she do to survive?

She couldn’t get a regular job as the possibility of touching someone was unavoidable.

Was she stuck here, as surely trapped in the Institute as she was in her own skin?

Such thoughts swirled maddeningly in her mind as she got ready for the day, powdering her already pale face to her preferred ghostly shade. Leaning closer to the mirror, she lined her eyes in vivid violet, dark and thick, making her own eyes shrink into the darkness. She slashed on the liquid liner back and forth, the routine slowly calming her as she put her mask in place. A final slash of deep purple lipstick and a shake of her head to make her hair fall messily over her face as she pulled over a tight black top, paired with baggy men’s jeans, belted with a heavy chain and padlock, and her ever-present combat boots.

Now she felt prepared to skulk out of her room, armored by a dark and unfriendly appearance that shouted “stay away” to anyone who thought to approach her.

She shunned the half-hearted request by Kurt to join him for breakfast, frowning at the bandage on his leg and the game smile he gave her. She sat alone at a corner table, her back to the room so she could stare at the wall and pretend there was no one else in the room; that she couldn’t feel the looks pelting her back from other students who’d clearly heard what she’d done in the DR sim. As much as it pissed her off, she was definitely in the mood to be left alone rather than try to talk to any of her classmates, maybe explain or apologize, in her currently exhausted and annoyed mood.

“Hey, kid.”

Of course. Sigh.

“I said hey, kid,” Wolverine growled.

The Rogue glanced up then away, as if dismissing him entirely as something too boring to contemplate. “Hey,” she supplied grudgingly when it became clear he was waiting for a response.

“It speaks!” The sarcastically shocked look on his face got under her skin, but she was damned if she was going to show it.

“This seat taken?” He gestured to her empty table.

“If I say yes, you’ll park it anyway,” she grumbled.

“So it’s like that, eh?” Damn him, he was giving her The Eyebrow. She didn’t answer, preferring to glare at her scrambled eggs like they offended her mightily.

“Rogue, if you want me to go all ya gotta do is ask.”

The Rogue looked up at him with a sickly sweet smile, “So if I just ask, you’ll get lost?”

“Like I said last night,” she cringed at the reminder, “if you want something from me all ya gotta do is ask.”

Her smile turned to a bitchy sneer. “Ok….would you please leave me the hell alone, you perverted fuck?”

The teasing look on his face vanished in an instant and was replaced by a thunderous expression that made the Rogue seriously contemplate what it would be like when her life flashed before her eyes as she died.

Probably just a big blank reel of film with a soundtrack of agonized screams.

Wolverine growled threateningly at her before stalking away.

The Rogue smirked to herself. It would be much easier to stay away from him if he hated her fucking guts. At the same time, a small part of her winced at the expression on his face when he looked at her.

Well, at least him thinking she was a stupid, bratty shit would easier to deal with than the emotions and thoughts he’s dumped all over her last night with his gruff but kind words and that goddamn kiss that threw over her balance completely. The man from last night stirred up her brain into an even bigger mess than usual. A thoughtful, almost kind Wolverine was an anomaly that simply did not compute.

A pissed Wolverine she could deal with, he was mean, harsh, and uncomplicated. She could handle that.

She changed her mind that afternoon when she had to deal with him during a double DR session with the rest of her class. After the fiasco the day before, Xavier insisted the class immerse themselves in more intensive training so mistakes like the day before wouldn’t happen again.

The Professor also felt that the Rogue needed to face her classmates head on and for them all to figure out a way to work together as the mistrust and tension between the rest of the team and the Rogue was almost at the boiling point.

“Ok, listen up runts!” Wolverine barked after they finished warming up. “Today we are going to focus on working with the Rogue. She kicked all your butts last time for two reasons.”

The Rogue grinned broadly at his praise. She couldn’t help it.

“One: She doesn’t know how to control the drain.”

She flushed hotly at his crude assessment of her single-handed ass-kicking of the beta team.

“And two: you all should learn to handle mutants like her, drainers, manipulators, people who can neutralize, counteract, or burn out your mutations. She’s not one of a kind.”

How dare he!

“Hey!” the Rogue shouted. “I can hear you, y’know!” Kitty giggled at her classmate’s embarrassment as did Iceman, who was still annoyed with the Rogue.

“I know you can, kid,” Wolverine drawled that last word and her ears burned in anger. “Xavier said you demanded to train with your mutation and you’re gonna.” His eyes lashed over the rest of the students, “And you bunch of snot-noses are going to help and also learn how to handle mutants with abilities like hers.”

The Rogue almost flinched at the combined looks of Jean, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, and Bobby all drilled into her, some thoughtful but others gleeful and conveying it was definitely payback time. She stiffened her spine as she looked at her teammates and she was damned if she was going to betray any hesitation in front of them.

She took off her gloves, flexed her hands, cracked her knuckle, and smirked as Kitty took a step back as if aware she’d be easy pickings for the gloomy girl.

“First things first, let’s see if you can take a mutation from someone else without knocking them the fuck out,” Wolverine growled at her, not liking the way she was giving Kitty the shank eye. “Hold your hand out Rogue.”She held it out to Kitty, her grin turning darker as the other girl huddled close to Bobby.

“Nah, not gonna let you try one of them right off. I can recover faster,” Wolverine said as he took off one of his gloves.

“No way.” She shied away from his reach. “No way am I letting you in my head.” She most definitely did not want any of his thoughts from the night before muddying up her thoughts again.

“Hold still,” he growled fiercely and even the other students shied from the menacing tone in his voice. “If you just do what I say then I stay upright and all you get is some of my powers, not my head.”

He latched onto her wrist covered by her uniform. “Palm down, don’t want ya grabbing me.” He had the audacity to wink at her and the Rogue tried to twist away, but at the sound of a snigger from Bobby she stopped. She was not going to puss out in front of everyone, so she sighed dramatically and held out the back of her hand.

Wolverine counted “1…2…” She could hear everyone’s breath stop, even her own, the silence in the room crackling with tension and a slight frisson of fear. They all remember what happened when the Rogue knocked Wolverine out in class last time.

“3…” He suddenly drew his index finger over the back of her hand then snatched it back just when the sizzle of her mutation tried to snap at him more viciously.

“Whoa,” Scott said as a collective sigh of relief went through the room. “You’re alive.”

“Don’t look so disappointed, Scooter,” Wolverine laughed. “Ya both just gotta be quick. Any longer than a half second or so and she’ll put you in la-la land.”

Rogue marveled that she hadn’t absorbed his life and knocked him out, didn’t take those freaky images from the night before. She stroked the back of her hand where he’d touched her thoughtfully.

All she felt was energized, they way she always did when she took him in, like she’d just had a shot of adrenaline with a hormone chaser. As addictive as the first time, she practically felt a full body blow to her senses and nerves. Intoxicating and luscious. The only thought she’d taken from him was one of intense concentration on the task at hand.

She sniffed and could detect the individual scents of everyone in the room: the minty cool of Bobby, the sickening cloying smell of Kitty’s vanilla lotion, the slightly antiseptic tinge of Jean, *ugh* too much Polo on Scott.

The heady musk of Wolverine, who looked at her with a hooded gaze. Her own eyes darkened as she heard the light bellow of his breath, tasted on her tongue the salty tang of his sweat tinged with a spike of slight arousal.

She shook her head to clear it.

I am not going there. No fucking way.

Something wicked lay in that direction, and she was going to avoid it if at all possible. But it was a struggle to tear away from his intense stare.

“How do you know it worked?” Jean queried skeptically, one fine auburn eyebrow arched.

The Rogue grinned at her with bared teeth then sunk them into the meaty flesh between her own thumb and forefinger hard, breaking the skin then held out her hand to them. Even as a few blood drops fell to the floor the other students could see the deep marks melt together and fade in seconds. The pain felt pure and really good as did the shocked looks on their faces.

“Oh man!” Kurt said, fascinated.

“Ugh, did you totally have to do that?” Kitty shuddered from where she was peeking over Bobby’s protective back.

“What would you prefer? She use one of my claws?” Wolverine snarled. The smell of her blood did little to quell the animal in his head, neither did the scent of her pleasure at the pain she’d inflicted on herself. He did not like the way the others looked at the Rogue in barely disguised awe and unease.

They’re all mutants for fuck’s sake, what gives them the right to stare at her like she’s a freak?

“Alright, who’s next?” he asked. After a few seconds’ hesitation Kurt stepped forward, pulled off his glove and quickly touched the tip of one of his three large fingers to the back of the Rogue’s hand. He yanked it back with a hiss.

“What did she do?” Bobby asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Nothing, I think. It just felt…really weird.” Kurt’s eyes took on an unfocused look for a moment before they cleared. “A little dizzy, but I think I’m okay.”

The dubious looks on the faces of the other students, with the exception of Kurt, made her terse with irritation,“C’mon, I don’t WANT to hurt any of you.”

The varying disbelieving looks from her teammates had her looking at the toes of her boots rather than at them.

Time to man-up, you can do this she thought to herself.

She took a deep breath.“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.” She caught Wolverine’s smirk from the corner of her eye.

Bastard, don’t you dare enjoy this.

But if she was going to survive here she might as well take her lumps, especially when they were deserved. She straightened her back and raised her head. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“Try…you’re going to just try? Wow that makes me feel like so much better!” Kitty made a face at the Rogue from behind Bobby.

“Yes, that quasi-promise doesn’t make me very comfortable,” Jean said stiffly.

“Look!” she bristled. “I can’t turn it on and off like you” she stabbed a finger at Kitty, “or you!” She glared at Jean, who still regarded her haughtily.

The Rogue’s temper flared. She’d tried to apologize, sort of, and wanted to try to work with them, but they were being assholes about it.

“Would you ask Scott to just TRY not to blow a whole in a wall if he took his visor off?” The other students looked taken aback. “Or tell Kurt to TRY to stop being blue and to lose the tail?” The elf clutched his appendage with a stricken look on his face.

Wolverine stayed back with no intention of interfering. This was her fight and she was going to have to deal with her teammates and the ramifications of yesterday, and all the days before, if she was ever going figure out whether she had a place in this school or on this team.

She couldn’t hide forever.

“Scott’s got his visor and Kurt’s got his holo-projector to protect themselves and others. I don’t have SHIT! What do you want me to do, wear a damn burka for the rest of my life so you feel ‘comfortable”?!” she sneered the last word at Jean, who finally had the good sense to look abashed.

“You know what’s NOT comfortable, having to wear long sleeves and jeans in the middle of summer; NEVER going to beach because you might kill someone sunbathing; to have to wear gloves to eat, even to SLEEP; checking the lock on the door 5 times before you change clothes!!!”

The Rogue was in full flare now, her face twisted in frustration.

“I said I’d TRY because that’s all I can fucking do! I’ve being TRYING since I fucking got here, but I guess that’s just not good enough for y'all!”

Scott took a step forward, holding out a reassuring hand towards her, but the Rogue spun away.

“No, I don’t want your pity!” she hissed. “Goddamnit, I wanted your help.” Her voice was quiet now and the others shifted uneasily at her admission. “But fuck all of you!” the Rogue shouted and bamfed out of sight to reappear in the control room above them before stalking away.

Stunned silence filled the room after her abrupt disappearance. Jean and Scott traded pained looks, whereas Kurt glared furiously at the rest of his team. Kitty and Scott stared at the floor.

Wolverine indulged in a sarcastic slow clap at the team’s complete clusterfuck. “Nice going. Great teamwork. Really fucking great.”

Jean opened her mouth. “Shut it! I think you’ve done enough talking, Red.” He glared levelly at each of the students in turn, long enough to make them all look away. “I’ll deal with her when she calms down. If…and I say IF…I can convince her to come back and give you jerks another try I expect FULL COOPERATION!” He roared the last two words, and they all quailed under his vicious tone.

Hours later, the Rogue was locked still in her room confused, embarrassed, angry…and hurt. She smoked cigarettes on her bed,fuck-all to the rules, her headphones cranked to top volume, drowning out the voices of her teammates ringing in her ears.

Say your name.
Try to speak as clearly as you can.
You know everything gets written down.
Nod your head.
Just in case they could be watching.
With their shiny satellite.


Disgust. Fear. Curiosity. Hesitance. Revulsion. Terrified awe. Their feelings evident on their faces, not a damn liar among them, not even to save her feelings…if she had any worth saving.

Why do I let these assholes get under my skin? They don’t wanna help, fine. Fuck them all.

She fumed; at the same time she felt guilty. She’d not made it easy for them to trust her long before today. Her rule-breaking, rudeness, sarcasm, mood swings, mean pranks, scorn. All of it had turned them away from her much more effectively than their fear of her mutation ever could have.

She’d brought all of it on her own head. But was it too much to have them cut her little slack when she was trying to fix what she’d messed up? But even when she tried she still messed it up.

Xavier’s school took on strays all the time, some of whom were definitely up to worse than the Rogue and her personal rebellions. A few had even left to join Magneto, the Morlocks, the Brotherhood and other worse groups. But when a few of them came straggling back, having been dumped by their less-than-savory cohorts, they were given second chances.

The Rogue had never been given a chance at all.

Why do I even bother to stay?

She couldn’t answer that.

The simple fact was that it wasn't just the physical impossibility of striking out on her own or that she had nowhere to go wasn’t the real thing that kept her here. For some incredibly annoyingly and unknowable reason she wanted to stay.

She had a life here, such as it was. A shitty, dark, depressing, occasionally exciting, and recently thrilling sexually charged, life. But it was a life. She’d never had one before, not really.

She’d just existed with no direction beyond surviving each day with as little human contact as possible. Directionless, aimless, meaningless.

Turn it up.
Listen to the shit they pump into your head.
Filling you with apathy.
Hold your breath.
Wait until you know the time is right on time.
The end is near.


She could have meaning here. A purpose.

Could have had she corrected herself.

Looked like that wasn’t going to happen, not if the others were scared of or upset with her. While the Rogue was a wrathful person, her ire was always directed inward. She might lash out at others, but it wasn’t about them. It was about her own rage at herself stored up to the bursting point, then she exploded.

No one understood that. Except maybe Wolverine.

She knew why he didn’t stop the argument in the DR. He knew she had to stand up to the team on her own, apologize, maybe even ask for help. Ok, so she hadn’t exactly asked so much as screamed at them when they were hesitant. But that wasn’t their fault. She never made it easy, she never gave them a reason to trust her. She only took their trust and used it.

Like Wolverine said, “Sometimes it ain’t all about taking.” She didn’t know how to do anything else, but she wanted to try.

Damn you, get out of my head!

But he wasn’t there. Not really.

No voice urging her on to violence, like she’d allowed in the DR the day before. It hadn’t really been his personality, more her own subsuming his rough voice, recalling his bestial desire for the hunt, to justify her own need to inflict pain on others before they could hurt her.

A purely selfish and defensive means to an end.

To fulfill the midnight prophecy of her skin. To keep her alone. Safe from others. To keep them safe from her.

She didn’t want to, but the fact was she could destroy them all, even she didn’t mean to. She could kill them, every single one.

Am I made to kill? Is that why I was born?

That thought scared the shit out of her.

I hope they cannot see.
The limitless potential
Living inside of me.
To murder everything.
I hope they cannot see
I am the great destroyer


She fell asleep finally with the pained soundtrack to her life roaring in her head through the earphones.
End Notes:
next chapter long overdue smut. i was going to have it in this chapter but the DR scene took a new direction other than the one i'd planned.
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