By the end of her quarterly evaluation with the Professor Rogue’s ears with burning with embarrassment and anger. She stared unseeingly at the written assessment of her work, but she’d already memorized every humiliating word.

Sloppy.

Behind in martial arts.

Uses mutation ineffectively.

Spotty marksmanship.

Erratic results.

Careless.

I can’t sit through this any more of this shit echoed in her head as if she were trying to block out the piled up insults from seeping into her mind. It took everything she had to keep tears from forming in her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry because like most men they would think she was sad. She wasn’t, she was so fucking pissed she couldn’t see straight, only a haze of red covering everything in her view. The rage that pulsed behind her temples was so strong she thought with little effort she would shoot deadly rays out of her eyes like Cyclops and pulverize the man sitting next to her into dust.

Wolverine. He sprawled there like he didn’t have a care in the world, like that his words didn't ring in her head like a pounding dirge. Like he hadn’t just ripped apart his so-called best friend’s hard work for the last 12 weeks in advanced combat training. That he hadn’t just embarrassed the shit out of her in front of the Professor. The cocky bastard even had a twisted little smirk playing on his face. She knew he could smell the acid in her scent as her anger spiked higher and higher, threatening to explode, and he sat there like nothing unusual was happening. She wanted to kill him.

Xavier also felt Rogue’s frustration and ire; she was broadcasting uncontrollably and her vehemence coated his mind with dark searing heat, like lava incinerating all rational thought in its path. He shifted uncomfortably at the sensation and thought now would be a good time to wrap things up before something unfortunate happened.

“Well, Rogue. After hearing Wolverine’s assessment of your work this quarter, do you have anything to add?” He was almost afraid to ask.

Oh, she was plenty she wanted to say, but none of it was suitable for this meeting, and she would be damned if she’d let that feral fucker hear her voice crack in barely controlled, violent indignation.

“No sir,” she said tightly, her lips pressed firmly together to hold back the spew of invectives she longed to throw at her former friend. “May I go now, sir?”

Xavier inclined his head in acquiescence. The 20 year old mutant stood swiftly and stalked to the door, every line of her frame radiating with coiled wrath. He was surprised when she shut the door quietly behind her; he’d expected the woman to slam it from the frame.

“I thought that went well,” Wolverine drawled.

“My old friend,” Xavier noted, “I’ve never know you to be deliberately obtuse.”

“Hmm?” the surly man grumbled as he shifted to cross one foot over his opposite knee.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t tell how upset she was at your review of her work. She was very surprised and extremely angry about it.” Xavier studied the man in front of him. “Why haven’t you brought up your concerns with her before now? Why save it for this meeting when you could have corrected her behavior and given her a chance to address your concerns?”

Wolverine barked out his version of a laugh. “Oh god Chuck, I could win an Oscar, swear to God.” The man thumbed his eyes, pretending to wipe away tears as he chuckled harder. “She’s doing great, better than anyone else in the class, could kick half the team’s ass by herself.”

Xavier’s face fell in shock. “Then what is this?” He tapped the negative review form on his desk.

Wolverine grinned, “She might be better than almost everyone else, but she’s still not perfect. And she’s got the potential to be that. Absolutely.”

“Then why didn’t you say that instead of doing this?” Xavier now crumpled up the offending document and waved it abstractedly. “She’s extraordinarily upset, Wolverine.”

“Chuck, you know half-measures don’t get anywhere with that girl. You tell her she’s doing good but could do better and she only hears the positive, gets comfortable sitting on her ass with that,” Wolverine said confidently. “I’m glad she’s upset, shows combat training means something to her. It’s all or nothing with her, so I gave her nothing. Now she’s going to want it all. Be perfect.”

Xavier regarded his friend, “Sometimes you surprise me with your insight, old friend.”

“Yeh, well you didn’t hire me just for my pretty face.” Wolverine stood smoothly and left the office. He knew he’d have to face the kid’s wrath sooner or later and he was looking forward to it. But not just yet. She had to simmer for a while until she was boiling over, then they’d have a conversation.

She was no where to be found. He looked for her in her room, the gym, library, rec room, grounds. No dice. She didn’t show up for dinner either. Wolverine ate, ignoring the chatter of the rest of the X-men around him as he grinned inwardly to himself; she was definitely stewing hard, probably sitting somewhere gnashing her teeth in frustration, wondering what she was doing wrong, where she could improve.

Problem was the girl thought too much, not enough action. She was careless because she didn’t trust her instincts and hesitated before she moved into a fight. She spent too much time weighing her options before pouncing. That was her weakness. She needed to trust not only his training and her expertise but have the confidence to believe she’d make the right call, and if she didn’t then she could make another decision and still win the battle. She was erratic because she couldn’t make up her damn mind which course of action to commit to sometimes. When she finally did settle she was unstoppable, but she took too much time dithering.

Her use of firearms was overly cautious. She needed to give up the naïve idea that the war they were fighting wasn’t bloody; everyone got blood on their hands at some point. Her technique and skill were unmatched by everyone on the X-men except Wolverine, but her reluctance to use her skills on anything but Danger Room targets would get her killed, or at least maimed until Wolverine could heal her. She needed to find that killer instinct, quit trying to bury it under her immature hope that one day she wouldn’t have to take a life to save her own or those of her teammates.

Same with her mutation. Wolverine understood she loathed the idea of another mind shouting in her head, but she needed to accept that she would have to turn on her skin during battles to drain enemies and friends alike to fight with the X-men, to take the powers of the fallen to rise up and fight again until victorious. Otherwise she was nothing but a well trained but powerless human. She needed to take ownership of and responsibility for her dangerous gift, learn to use it to her advantage and quit stalling in fear, smothering her power under the crushing weight of her doubts about what would wind up swirling in her mind.

All the X-men were haunted by the memories of things they’d done and fear of things they would inevitably do to protect those mutants who needed them and to stop those out to destroy everything Xavier and the X-men valued. She needed to get over it and accept that any torment that landed in her head from the fight may pale in comparison to what lurked in the memories of her teammates.

She needed to go all out, balls to the wall and tear apart anything in her path to win, to save those who needed protection, and accept that she would have to surrender her own notions of morality and self-preservation to preserve something greater than herself. She was a soldier and she needed to accept that with that came sacrifice. They all lived with it, it was time she learned how to also and quit hiding. She wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d protect her, he’d promised, but not from her own illusions about what life should be. Time to grow up and accept what life was.

Mulling over these thoughts, Wolverine changed in the locker room into his workout gear as he prepared for another late night session in the Danger Room. Just the thing to work out the mental kinks, he thought to himself as he snugged on his black uniform and snapped shut the latches on his heavy boots. He slipped on thin leather gloves over his hands and snapped out the claws, inspecting the metal sheaths that covered the openings and allowed his razor sharp weapons to slide out while still protecting the sensitive torn skin of his knuckles. He had to give it to Xavier, these were a big improvement over the old uniforms. The molecularly-bonded Kevlar weave Beast had cleverly engineered for the skin suit was light, versatile, flexible, and comfortable with none of the bulk of the commercial grade stuff cops and military had to wear. A great improvement over the heavy and constricting leather Xavier had first proposed.

Scott had told him about what sounded like a new and dangerous training program, but he figured it would need a few tweaks to satisfy the Wolverine so he headed to the control room to edit the code. Once in the control room he saw on a monitor a program was running, so he opened one of the blast shields on the observation window and looked down to see a louder-than-life battle sim raging.

Someone had raided the memory stores for a crazy combination of baddies to fight: Deadpool, Avalanche, Lady Deathstryke, and Omega Red. Interesting combination, a little bit of everything. Bullets flew madly in all directions and the earth of the simulated urban wasteland heaved and roiled. Looked be three X-men pinned down behind a crumbling wall as Omega Red bashed the other side with his carbonadium whips. Deathstryke clambered on top of a flaming car in their blind spot and Wolverine almost flipped on the intercom to call a warning down to his teammates. It wasn’t needed as a moment later a dark blossom appeared in the semi-cyborg’s neck.

Wolverine started in surprise. Not only was that a damn nice shot with almost instantaneous reaction time, but Rogue hadn’t hesitated to strike, nor did she waste time looking at Deathstryke once the woman collapsed behind the smoking wreckage. She merely shouted her partners to get down as more bullets flew past them from a hidden assailant, most likely Deadpool, the gun crazy mercenary.

One of her partners was too slow, so Rogue grabbed the mutant by the collar and dragged him down, shielding him with her own body when masonry tumbled overhead as Omega Red slammed into the wall once more.

Impressed, Wolverine leaned over the control panel to watch the wild scenario. Rogue, Shadowcat and Nightcrawler backed up from the brutal onslaught of Avalanche’s quakes and the threatening snaps of Omega Red’s whips as they crackled with electricity and snaked after them. They weren’t retreating, instead seeking higher ground from which to launch a counter-assault. Why didn’t they just disappear from the sight of their adversaries and take Rogue with them to a safer distance to launch their own attack? Wolverine studied the team carefully, it appeared there was some dissension among the ranks as Rogue shook her head and gestured towards the fight while Crawler and Cat clearly wanted to go in the opposite direction. At that moment, Deadpool slid around a corner and pumped a veritable bombardment of ammo at the three. Kurt bamfed out of sight, Kitty shrieked and phased through the ground and vanished. Wolverine snarled as her teammates disappeared around her and Rogue took a bullet to the shoulder. Rather than fall in shock, she spun behind a cement girder barely holding up a decimated parking garage thenpeeked her head out briefly to unload her Glock at the assassin before again ducked behind the crumbling barricade.

Wolverine watched as she slipped a knife from her boot and sliced a strip of her uniform off to tie roughly around her injured shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight of blood snaking down her arm and chest, then flicked down to the control panel. The safeties were off. He tried to activate them but was denied access. Growling he punched in his override code, but the system firmly stated he did not have proper authorization to alter the running program. One of the squirts’ doing, he was sure. Knowing without the right shut-down code the sim would only end when one side or the other was utterly defeated he sped down the stairs to the door of the DR and sliced through the release mechanism when it initially denied him entrance. He stormed in just in time to see Deathstryke impale Shadowcat through the back with her adamantium talons. The X-man’s eyes widened as blood frothed at her lips and ran down her uniform while the Japanese madwoman shrieked in triumph.

“NO!” Wolver roared and unsheathed his claws only to pause in mid-step towards the fallen girl as she dissolved in a spate of pixels. A hologram, they both were. He let Deathstryke run into the smoke as he sped towards the last place he’d seen Rogue, unsure who was real or not but he had a feeling she at least was, this was where she’d been hiding. He skidded to a stop at the precariously leaning parking garage, no one in sight and he sniffed the air to find a trace of living breath to latch onto and track.

A groan and twist of metal warned him almost too late as a huge slab of rebar reinforced concrete broke off the unstable structure and plummeted toward him and the ground heaved under his feet. He launched himself to the side just in time to avoid being crushed as several tons of mortar slammed to the ground, only to be greeted with a knee to the face as the Russian earth-shaker attacked him. He had only enough time to head butt the man viciously before he lost his balance once again on the unstable ground. But he took his foe down with him and drilled crushing fists into the other man’s face until he fell still under him, blood running from his ears and nose.

As Wolverine stood over the holographic corpse, watching is vanish, he heard gunfire again, very close this time. He crept around the side of a burned out building to see down the block to Nightcrawler winking in and out of sight as he dodged a hail of bullets and the occasional grenade from Deadpool, who was cackling, “Weren’t you in that Lilo and Stitch movie? Does Mickey know you left the Magic Kingdom?”

He unsheathed his claws and strode down the street, only to see Rogue slither from a shadow behind Deadpool and leap onto his back while the lunatic was distracted taking potshot at the elf. Wolverine paused, waiting to see what she would do, but still tense with the safeties off. Even though he was a hologram, Deadpool’s bullets still wounded and his swords were deadly sharp. Wolverine crouched behind an over-turned car, tensed for the spring he never had to make as, with a piercing scream, Rogue snaked her arms around the killers neck and squeezed even as she bit him brutally through his mask. The mouthy merc shouted in pain and dropped his gun to bring his hands to his face in agony. Rogue continued to choke him until the man dropped to the ground beneath them. She gritted her teeth and strained, even as her shoulder bleed profusely, to keep her death grip on her foe. Crawler ported to her side as she lay heavily on the still mutant pinned under her, her arms crushing tighter until Deadpool’s wheezes and desperate scrabbling ceased. Even then she did not release him.

“Scheiße, Rogue! He eez not brezing, let go,” the German man tugged at her arms until she unwound them from Deadpool’s neck. Wolverine started forward, ready to lead them out of the DR to safety but froze when Rogue leaned down over the fallen mutant and gripped him by the chin and side of the head. A second later a sickening crack resounded; she'd broken the mutant’s neck.

Wolverine couldn’t believe it. Yes, it was a sim, a training program, but she’d done it so coldly and such with brutal efficiency to make sure the enemy was down for the count. He would have felt pride in her skill if the beast inside hadn’t suddenly shouldered his conscience aside to gaze hungrily upon the deadly woman as she dropped the limp form. Wolverine felt his lip curl as a low rumble rose from deep in his chest.

Rogue bent down and unstrapped the two katanas on Deadpool’s back to put them on herself, then stripped his holster housing a pair of mean looking Sig Sauer P220s and wrapped it around her own hips, checking the clips before slamming them home. “Let’s go,” she said bluntly to the blue mutant, who was regarding her with a stunned look on his face.

“Rogue…you just-“ His words were cut off as the corpse shockingly sat up and latched one red gloved hand on his tail as the other whipped out a wicked butterfly knife from a calf sheath.

“If you’re thinking about choking me again sweetcheeks, I gotta tell you that’s really annoying,” the merc quipped as he hauled Crawler towards him and prodded the elf none-too-gently with the knife. “Of course,” he said, looking Rogue over, “if that sort of thing gets you hot I could-“

Silence fell as a katana flashed and Deadpool’s head neatly parted company with his body. Kurt shied away from the now one foot shorter corpse as it fell away from him, then disappeared, and again as Rogue flicked the blood from the blade with a practiced flick of her wrist. Wolverine slunk back into the shadows to watch her, his pulse racing at her chilling expertise, every movement as sharp and precise as the blades she now carried.

“Now he’s dead. C’mon,” she barked at Nightcrawler and they made their way down the block, darting from barricade to doorway before stepping to the shadows on the far side of the street. Wolverine tracked from a distance, wouldn’t do to alert them to his presence now, he wanted to see what Rogue else would do unaware of his scrutiny. He wanted to watch her closely, admire the way she moved, powerful and supple; it fired his blood something fierce. The authority she exuded as she took the lead in recon, signaling Kurt with subtle hand gestures to teleport and scout the high ground.

He’d never seen her like this. She was pure power, perfect in every line and motion. It was commanding, intoxicating.

When Omega Red crashed through the wall Kurt was crawling over, seized the blue mutant with one of his whips around the neck and fried him, Rogue didn’t hesitate to draw one of Deadpool’s guns with smooth dexterity and blast two .45 caliber slugs into the metal enhanced mutant’s left eye. The one part of his body not protected by carbonadium. She was too late to save Kurt, who’d been electrocuted, and when the young man disappeared in a spark of pixels Wolverine breathed a sigh of relief. He’d thought her teammate was another hologram, and was glad to see he was right.

Why wasn’t the sim over? All the enemies were gone, beaten, beheaded, shot, otherwise incapacitated beyond redeeming for the purposes of the training program. Rogue also seemed surprised the program ran on, and she slowly pulled one of the swords from the scabbards on her back as she slammed another clip into the gun.

Her apprehension at the unknown danger still lurking spiked and Wolverine caught a whiff. Potent stuff, provocative adrenalin and salty sweat mixed in with that smoky sandlewood scent that was all Rogue. The beast gnawed at the back of his brain, bristling to be released to hunt down the source of the delectable smell. Wolverine didn’t even bother to stifle the rumble seeping through his teeth. For a better view of her as she moved through the blasted landscape Wolverine tracked her from the high ground, scuttling over rooftops, enjoying the chase even as his prey had no idea the beast persued.

Rogue crept stealthily along seemingly deserted city streets until she came to a junkyard and paused, eyes analyzing the scene for a moment before she moved quietly but confidently into the maze of wrecked autos. Wolverine followed her at a distance, tracking her from a parallel path through the wreckage, his pulse rising steadily the longer the sim ran, the longer the expectancy of the final fight, his nerves stretched close to snapping. Judging from the fizzle of tension radiating on Rogue’s scent hers were too, strung tight as a bow and ready to fly, deadly and true.

“Gaijin dog!” shouted a voice. Deathstryke, bitch always turned up when you least wanted to see her ugly mug.

Rogue sneered, “You sure you want those to be your last words?”

Wolverine heard the distinct sound of metal clashing and ran down the rows, anxious to find his way to the two combatants. He skidded around a corner in time to see Deathstryke lash out with her adamantium talons and take a vicious swipe at Rogue’s midsection that the younger mutant parried with the flat of the swords she gripped in both hands.

Still the Japanese psychopath’s nails stripped away a long swath of the X-man’s uniform and exposed soft skin laced now with a row of bloody scratches. Rogue’s scent shot skyward with adrenalin and intensity as she briefly assessed her wounds. Then she smiled at the psychotic Asian woman, the way a shark shows its teeth before it bites you in half.

Wolverine snarled triumphantly to see it. There it was. The killer instinct. Not just determination to slay, but to make sure it ached, screamed, tortured. Maybe draw it out to send a message.

His hands fisted as he fought to restrain himself, to let her make the kill. Christ, seeing her like this, she was perfect.

Deathstryke’s hands were the only part of her body infused with adamantiumm but the rest of her was enhanced with cyborg components that, in some places, entirely replaced limb and muscle. Rogue knew this as she flung her opponent away with a powerful kick to the chest and followed it up with a lethal slash of her katana that ripped through one of Deathstryke’s less protected thighs, exposing damaged bio-circuitry and severed wires.

The woman screamed as her leg wobbled under her and struck with lethal ferocity once more, this time scoring Rogue’s face with a line of bloody gashes before battered back once more by the X-man’s flurry of parries and savages thrusts.

“Rogue!” shouted Wolverine, his claws flashing out at the sight of her ruined face. He charged forward.

“Stay back!” Rogue screamed as she dove away from Deathstryke’s deadly hands and the maniac’s talons ripped through the side of a car.

“Come Logan-san!” the psycho hissed, “Come see as I rip your woman’s intestines out. I will feed them to the dogs!”

Wolverine roared as he charged forward, only to be brought down by a wicked slash to the back of his thighs by Rogue’s blades.

“Stay the fuck out of this!” she screamed as he collapsed under the agony of severed hamstrings. As he fell forward he caught himself in time to keep from landing flat on his face and pressed up to watch the two women lock once again in mortal combat. He struggled to rise but Rogue had carved him deeply; he was useless until his healing factor caught up. All he could do now was watch in fervent horror as the two circled each other, each landing and receiving punishing hits and blood spattering slices.

Deathstryke laughed as Rogue appeared to weaken from blood loss and she lurched to one side. One leg collapsed under her and Rogue fell to her knees, one sword clattering from her hand.

“That’s right, gaijin whore, kneel to Deathstryke,” the deranged woman cooed as she traced one more bloody slice across Rogue’s cheek as the woman shivered before her, barely remaining upright as blood trickled from dozens of cuts. “I am the last thing you will see before I gouge your eyes out.” Talons curved inward, ready to pluck the sight from the X-man’s face.

“Rogue!” Wolverine shouted, struggling to get up but his legs would not obey.

BANG

“You talk too much,” Rogue sneered as Deathstryke stumbled back and stared uncomprehendingly down at the bullet hole that went through her heart and exited her back in a huge clot of mechanics and muscle. Rogue stood up swiftly, the smoking Sig Sauer now in her free hand and spun in what seemed to be slow-motion to Wolverine.

Arms, legs, slivered torso, mangled shoulder, all moved in fluidity as she turned her back to Deathstryke in a seemingly gentle sway. Then her remaining katana shot behind her in a blaze of steel tempered to near molecule thinness, spearing the demented villain through the gut. As Rogue completed her strike and turned to face her opponent once more, she brought the sword up smoothly and it sliced up through her crazed foe, parting her ribs easily, up through her throat to slip lethally under her chin until the point emerged from the top of Deathstryke’s head.

“Stay dead,” Rogue spat in the face of her fallen nemesis before she withdrew the sword and the body fell to the ground with an air of finality and disappeared. The sim ended and the bare walls and floor of the Danger Room emerged from the darkness. Rogue stalked over to Wolverine where his tendons and skin finally raveled back together as he got to his knees.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of it, Wolverine!” she shouted down at him.

He didn’t care if she was pissed, he was just relieved she had apparently been feinting how serious her injuries were in order to lure Deathstryke close enough for a final blow. Her cunning and surety with the killing stroke had stoked a fire in him that threatened to rage of our control, consume him where he knelt in front of her. The sight of her, uniform in shreds, the intoxicating scent of her adrenalin, sweat, and fury, covered in blood and victorious, all her enemies dead at her feet threatened his sanity.

She stood there, a specter of icy and efficient death, an avenging angel or dark goddess come to earth to lay waste to all in her path.

“Rogue-“ he started, reaching a hand to her ruined face.

“Save it!” she shouted as her hand swung high in an arc and the butt of the gun crashed into his temple. All went black and he fell at her feet, like all the others. She wasn’t done, not by a long shot.

“At least you’re good for something,” she muttered as stripped off her bloody gloves and laid her hands on Wolverine’s face, draining him to soothe her wounds and wash away her aches as she prepared for another sim.

What sounded like animals screaming and the coppery tang of blood in his nose brought Wolverine back to consciousness. He shook his head groggily and felt the familiar malaise that indicated Rogue had used her mutation on him. Damn, had she ever. Even his bones felt like jelly. The dark threatened to drag him under once more but the howls and snarls that sounded around him pulled him back from the edge, demanding his attention He cracked one eye open to find Rogue locked in bloody combat with Sabertooth.

Or at least what initially looked like combat, but a heavy pall of pheromones coated his sinuses and lay thick on Wolverine’s tongue. Creed had one hand locked around Rogue’s throat as her legs wound around his waist, his other hand crushing the small of her back again him. One of her hands seemingly disappeared into the monster’s gut as gore poured over her arm. The feral mutant roared as she withdrew her hand, pulling with it clots of intestines with a keening scream from the beasts’ throat. With a blood-curdling screech Rogue leaned forward and sunk her teeth into Sabertooth’s cheek just as the mutant’s hand loosened from her frame, dropping her to the ground. She took a strip of flesh with her and spat it at the blonde monster as he dropped to his knees in front of her and reached forward to cradle his innards as they spilled to the floor.

As the hologram of Sabertooth vanished in a sizzle of electrons Wolverine heard Rogue’s deep pants, saw her chest heave from the exertion of fighting the much more powerful mutant with the safeties off. He sat up to see the claw shaped bruises and scratches at her throat fade, the gashes in her side heal over leaving only toned, bunched muscle over peach blush skin speckled with her own blood. The scent of her cracked whip-like through the DR and stung him like a physical blow, the waves of arousal pouring from her in a heated torrent that screeched at him like a demented siren’s song.

He stood and she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, turning to him. “Like what you saw, Wolverine?” she drawled, and he let his gaze roam freely over her body, slicking over the exposed skin glistening with sweat and blood, the revealed curve of her ribs where her uniform had been ripped away by talons, one muscular thighs exposed to the air where Sabertooth had clawed part of her uniform away.

He growled loudly, startling even himself with the primal sound of it, untamed and potent. Her scent spiked once again, a spicy tang that pooled in the base of his spine. “Nice moves,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

“It’s what you wanted, didn’t you?” she said as she stalked towards him. “The killer instinct. See me do whatever it takes to accomplish my goal.” Suddenly she pressed hard against him, her chest forcing him back until he was pinned between her and the wall. “Take what I want,” she purred as she rubbed against him, her thighs falling apart easily on either side of one of his legs.

Christ, the feel of her heated sex ground against him and his mouth practically watered, but he wasn’t one to let anyone take the upper hand with him. “Easy to do in the DR darlin’,” he rasped, his breath heating her cheek as she leaned in closed, “when it’s just holograms. Don’t mean you can do it in the real world, cross that line.”

His tongue snaked out over his lips. Her mutation off now, her skin safe to touch but he knew the woman was still deadly. His control was barely hanging on and he needed to know right fucking now just how far she was willing to go with this.

“Don’t be so sure, sugar.” There was an unexpected ripping sound and suddenly Wolverine’s face was framed by a set of bone claws, one on each side lightly nicking his skin as they slid past his cheekbone. A third prodded the soft flesh of his throat under his chin.

His breath stumbled. “That’s new,” he noted cautiously, assessing her eyes so close to his now. They were heated pool of dark coffee, blistering him with their gaze.

“I quit holding back, took a lot more than before,” she murmured as her lips briefly whispered against the corner of his mouth. “I can take more than you know.” The innuendo was not lost on him, especially when she ground her mound against his thigh once more and he heard a hitch in the back of her throat at the sensation.

“We’ll see,” he muttered darkly and crushed his mouth to hers. Her claws retracted, slicing him as they went and the scent of fresh blood made them both moan as Wolverine slid his tongue past her lips to sweep across her and suck hard. She responded by taking his upper lip between her teeth and scraping it lightly, which forced an uncontrolled growl from him, the sensation erotic and primitive at once. Rogue ground herself against him once again and he didn’t need further prompting as he wrapped his hand around her, cupping her ass to slide her body further up until the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her, unmistakable through their skin suits.

She didn’t give an inch, either as he aggressively kissed her to the point where teeth clashed and lips split, nor as his finger dug deep into the luscious swell of her ass, sure to leave unique bruises. She responded by winding one hand in his hair to forcibly pull his head away from her mouth, tipping it up to bare his throat to her seeking lips and tongue, then teeth as she bit hard into the cord of muscle that travelled down the right side of his neck to meet his shoulder. He groaned, an earthy and wild sound at the unfamiliar feel of submission her gesture provoked. He sunk into her feral embrace, tipping his head back further as she gripped him hard to her. Something in him unwound and slithered back, pressing the beast in his head to the recesses at the sensation of being overwhelmed by this powerful woman who could, and possibly would have to one day, kill him. He knew that now. The calculating way she put him down when he got in her way was something he knew he could never to do her. She was the more dangerous of the two, the deadlier, the stronger.

Before, always, it was Wolverine who dominated a woman, pinned her underneath his massive frame to put her in the weaker position, decorating her skin with teeth marks, reminders of his temporary possession. This time he was the one owned, claimed as Rogue’s tongue explored the torn flesh eagerly with her tongue, even as it healed under her touch. Again and again she sunk her teeth into his neck and shoulder, once into his jaw, instinctually spreading her scent over his skin, marking him as hers.

His hard-on was practically painful as it throbbed each time her tongue invaded his damaged flesh. No matter how hard he crushed her body to his, the tension coiled tighter in his pelvis until he thought something might snap, never to be whole again. “God, Rogue,” he muttered, his head tilted back against the wall, eyes shut so all he could focus on was the feel of her staking her claim, the scent of her aggressive possession of his body and mind, his own and the one that surely lingered in her head and guided her movements.

“Put me down,” she commanded and only then did he realize he’d wrapped her legs around his waist. He obliged, in no position to protest or reassume control, if he’d ever had any with her, and she slithered to her knees in front of him.

Many times, more than he could count, he’d had a woman like this. But never had it been so clear this was not submissive position for Rogue. Rather he was the one who felt helpless as she said, “Keep still.”

A flash of razor sharp ivory, a quick slash, and he was exposed to her. And that was how he felt, truly exposed, pinned by the bright light in her eyes as she regarded the sharp V at his hip, the trail of dark hair that traced down his abdomen to the juncture between his thighs. He felt a brief urge to shy away from her gaze, her cool assessment of him, and a twinge of uncertainty niggling at his mind even as the beast inside him squirmed appreciatively at her frank appraisal.

“Tell me what you want,” she demanded even as one hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed almost painfully hard. His hips bucked in reaction and she hissed, “I said keep still!” Again her hand moved, this time to slide down to his base and loosen, then rise against to tighten at the tip, one thumb circling the head. He held still, not wanting her to stop if he disobeyed her again.

“Tell me,” she said again, still forceful as she stroked him once more, harder this time.

Wolverine groaned at her heated imperative. “You…shit you.”

“You want me to do what, Wolverine?” she questioned. He looked down and the determined look on her face didn’t alter, except a sheen of perspiration beaded her temple and a rosy flush spread down her neck to her shredded shirt. “Tell me!” she barked and jerked hard.

Wolverine spasmed in her hand, unable to still his hips as they moved forward, following the touch of her fingers. “Suck me, god, suck me hard,” he groaned.

She smiled slightly and lowered her head. The touch of her tongue, followed by her lips and the sensation made his head thump back against the wall again. The velvet feel of her tongue as she traced down one side then swirled up the hard veined that ridged the underside of his cock made his head swim. Her teeth gently scraped his hyper sensitive flesh and a strangled gasp escaped his lips. Her lips tightened on him, encircling his girth with silky, slick heat as she moved back and forth, her other hand resting one hip and guiding his movements, controlling his pleasure.

He reached down to wind his fingers in her hair, only to have her bat them away. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you to,” she insisted, then once against lowered her lips to draw insane sigils on his flesh with her tongue and teeth. She pulled his hips hard towards her and swallowed twice, taking his whole length inside her. Again and again she dove down and slid up again, drawing from him an unintelligible babble of whispers, harsh breaths, half-formed pleas and curses at the onslaught of pleasure mixed with a touch of pain.

Her pace with his hips and her mouth mounted until Wolverine marveled at the electric vibes coursing through his whole frame, causing him to tremble under her assured and forceful touch. He quivered as he felt his balls drawn tight against him and his back arched taut as a bowstring.

She suddenly stopped. Somehow he knew she would, cruel woman, but still he couldn’t smother the prolonged moan of disappointment that trickled between his clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut at the loss of the sensation only to have it replaced with another as she slithered up his body and tongued his neck lasciviously.

“You want more, Wolverine? You want me? You want me to fuck you?” He nodded, his face brushing the silk of her hair as she slicked her tongue over his ear then plunged it in, robbing his breath. All he heard with the soft swell of her breath as she said, “Then beg for it.”

“Please, Christ, please,” he murmured. Before this very moment he would have be damned if he would’ve begged any woman for sex. But he didn’t have a choice in the matter; the dominant creature pressed against him required his acquiescence. He could do nothing but what she demanded of him. “God, please fuck me. Please, please, please,” he chanted, “fuck me.”

She pushed on his shoulders until he slid down the wall to sit, and she settled onto his lap, her hand still stroking him hard and sure, keeping him on the edge. Controlled, confident, in charge of the whole thing just as she’d been in the Danger Room sims, as efficiently as she’d dispatched her enemies she stripped the rest of her uniform away, tearing it out of her way so she could take what she wanted.

“Say my name. Say it!” she ordered, pulling Wolverine’s head forward and away from the wall with a hard hand in his hair as she slicked herself over his shaft, earning her a croak from the back of his throat.

Wolverine’s eyes were squeezed shut, lost as he was in the slippery, sizzling feel of her pressed against him. “Rogue, please, goddamnit, fuck me hard.” He put his hands on her hips, but didn’t pull her to him; it wasn’t his call to make. “Rogue, please,” he plead.

She nodded once, sharply, then sighed as she slid down his length slowly, her head dropping back as he filled her completely. She was so wet, so ready, slicked from the long night of fights and the surge and pull of Logan in her mouth moments ago, it didn’t even pinch as his cock broke her hymen.

Vaguely in the back of Wolverine’s mind he noted the passing of her virginity but any thoughts as to what that meant beyond this singular moment was quashed under the feel of her slick center gripping him tight. The beast in his head howled in triumph and threw itself against the cage of his mind. He wouldn’t let it out, he wasn’t allowed by the powerful woman now rolling her hips in a slow circle on his lap that drove all other thoughts away.

Rogue placed her hands over the heavy gloved ones covering her hips. “I’ve had enough of gloves,” she announced, stripping them off him as she placed his bare palms on her breasts. “Touch me, Wolverine, make me feel good.”

The imperious sound of her voice blinded him to any thought but enthusiastic compliance. He opened his eyes and could do nothing but obey. And it wasn’t just the savage control she was exerting on him, but the satiny feel of her skin, the sight of her perfect tits swaying gently before him, nipples never touched by any hand but her own until now. He growled as she kneaded her breasts with his hands, his fingers starting to pluck then soothe the hard buds until her hands dropped away and wrapped instead over his shoulders, digging her nails in. He caressed the smooth underside of one soft breast as his other hand snaked behind her to trace circles at the base of her spine with her own sweat and draw goose bumps from her delectable skin.

Rogue’s back arched under his touch, the feel of his large hand stroking her spine drawing out a zap of sensation that made her moan in counterpoint to each rock of her hips, each slide of his rigid length inside her. The bow of her frame brought her closer to him and he lowered his head to flick his tongue out at one creamy pink tip, back and forth, back and forth, little licks that made her breath hitch with each pass. Again, slower this time, pausing between each pass of his tongue to breathe hotly on her wet areola. He was rewarded with a breathy gasp from Rogue each time he did so, followed by a buck from her that ground her deliciously harder against him.

Her breath hitched again and she moaned, the pitch higher and higher with each sway of her thighs against his hips, each insane slow grind against him. Wolverine’s own breathing was strained at the maddeningly slow pace, but he knew it was hers to set and his to follow. The surge and fall of her body drew him higher, the blood pounding in his veins until her felt sure his pulse was practically humming, its pace so frantic he wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like.

Rogue’s scent arced between them, the smell of fucking and the sound of slapping flesh filled his ears, and the taste of her sweet nipple on his tongue made his mouth water. She writhed against him again and he latched his mouth on her breast, sucking hard and laving it with the flat of his tongue even as his teeth nibbled the sensitive flesh.

She shouted and her hands dug into his shoulders once again, nails scoring the skin and the feel of her mark once more on him made Wolverine growl against her. The untamed vibration pulled from Rogue high-pitched moans that spiralled through the deserted Danger Room. She was so close but wasn’t there, the pace too slow, too controlled, but too much at the same time in the way it delayed and strung out their coupling until they were both almost hyperventilating.

“Please Rogue,” he begged, not caring about the needy sound in his voice, the pathetic whine as she dragged out the torture with another roll of her hips that made a vein throb brutally in his temple. “I want to make you come, please, let me, let me,” he breathed in time with each rippled slide of her sheath around his throbbing cock as he ached and twitched inside her.

Her lips slammed into his, her tongue snaking into his mouth as she swallowed his pleas. She ate away every last reserve of control he had as he drowned in the feel of her tongue mimicking the motion of her core. She ravaged, possessed him totally and left him panting hoarsely as she pulled away.

“Do it, get me off,” she said against his cheek, a hint of desperation in her own voice as her body rocked with pleasure but still the peak was too far away. Wolverine grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her lips once again to his neck where she bit and suckled his aching flesh once more until, with a roar, he shoved forward and toppled her onto her back.

He hitched her legs around his waist and thrust hard into her, shoving them both across the floor with the force. He arced his neck back as she bit him again and grabbed her hips in a crushing grasp, dragging her to him until he slammed home into her again, buried to the hilt and ground her clit against his pelvic bone. He pressed her down with his chest as his hips jack hammered into her, pulling her against him in time. He felt her wetness slide against his thighs and the smell of it drove him insane, so he reached down and slid two fingers against her, seeking the tight bud that would make her gush even more.

Rogue gasped at the feeling, so ecstatically pleasurable she tore her mouth from his neck and flung her head back, groaning, “Ooooooh fuuuuuuuck!”

Wolverine stared at the wanton look on her face as her hair splashed chocolate and silver across the floor and she writhed against his hand and cock. The control she’d maintained since he’d come into the Danger Room trembled on the edge of a precipice and he long to fling her and it into the void, but he wasn’t going to do it without her permission, she was his mate and she decided.

“Rogue, let me, wanna make you lose control,” he grunted as he pounded into her, his finger working feverishly against her slick and pulsing body.

“Yes! Do it!” she shouted an she fisted one hand in his hair and dragged him into a searing kiss that stole all reason. He tore away and flipped her over, dragging her hips up to his as he rammed into her from behind. She screamed and flung her head back onto his shoulder as he hauled her upright against him, one hand wrapped around her chest and twisting a nipple as the other ravaged her clit and folds, shimmying through her moisture. He hammered home into her again and again and again, each time pinching her clit and teasing her lower lips as he slid to the hilt in her.

He twisted his hips one, twice, and the hard pulsing vein at the underside of his cock rubbed hard against the spongy little spot at the front of her core, that secret place many doubt even exists. Her high cries took on a new tone, one that started in the lower registers as her body thrummed violently against his as her g-spot melted at the dazzling sensation. She howled as Wolverine pinched her clit hard and pounded into her from behind. He felt her clench brutally around him, so tight he felt as though all circulation to the rest of his body was cut off as her walls shivered and pulsed around him, from the base to the tip milking him with a deranged quiver that spun out of control.

The feel of his fingers against her clit, his cock locked tight in her, the wet slap of his thighs against her ass combined in a potent way to drive him to the brink of madness, and Wolverine lost it utterly and completely. He sank his teeth into the back of her neck as Rogue came shatteringly in his arms. Not content to let it end, he steeled himself against the rising pressure in his balls and his spiking blood pressure to fuck her mercilessly from behind until he wrung from her two more delicious, ripping howls. On the third she lost control and her claws slashed out, the sight driving Wolverine crazy and he had to surrendered to her excruciatingly tight heat. He emptied himself into her with a roar to match her own when her claws tore furrows in his thighs as he bucked against her one last time.

He collapsed on top of her, both of their breathing erratic and uncertain as the wash of pheromones, blood, and come wafted through the room, smothering them with its heady scent. After their hearts slowed and the sweat cooled on their bodies, Rogue shifted under him. He braced himself on his forearms as she rolled under him, her tongue coming out to trace her lips. He groaned at the sight of it, the memory of the nasty things her tongue had done just a few minutes ago.

“Christ, that was amazing,” he groaned and sunk his face into her neck, licking at a pool of sweat that had gathered in the hollow of her collarbone.

“Good,” she murmured, tracing a finger over a rapidly disappearing groove on his thigh, even as he licked at a vanishing bite mark on the side of her neck. “Y’know you didn’t need to be such a jackass to get your point across.”

Shit, she just had to bring up the stupid evaluation that had kicked this whole thing off. He hoped she hadn’t just anger fucked him just to get it out of her system or teach him some cruel lesson. Hell no, he wanted more than that now

“I’m capable of a lot more than you give me credit for.” God, he definitely knew that now.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered into her hair. “I just wanted you to be perfect,” he licked up her chin to her lips and teased, dying for them to open so he could have one more taste of her.

Suddenly she flipped them over and landed on top of him. She sat back, straddling his hips, and that calm, efficient control he’d hoped he’d just banged out of her settled on her face once more. Her hand gripped his jaw firmly, fingers cutting into his skin, and she stared hard into his eyes.

“What have you learned?” she asked even as she wriggled on him, and he gasped at the touch of her pouting lower lips sliding over his rising erection.

“Aaaah!” His breath caught at the feel of her.

Her gaze pierced him and her grip tightened on his face, demanding an answer, “Tell me.”

“You already are perfect, darlin’,” he gasped as she sank onto him once more. With a jolt he felt her squeeze him unexpectedly with her inner muscles. “Christ, woman you’re killing me.”

“Good, I plan on killing you like this every day, even if you may not really die.” She sank onto him once more and leaned over until her breath warmed his lips and he breathed in her sultry scent. “You’re mine now, don’t forget that.”

Wolverine reveled in this newly revealed side of her, the warrior, the hunter, the victor, the dominant creature that had been there all along, he’d just missed it. He was the spoils of her war and glad for it.

“Yes ma’am,” he groaned as she lowered her lips to his neck to claim him once more.