The smell of chalk dust freshly banged out of erasers spread throughout Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, papers, pencils, and worn erasers littering once pristine hallways, locker doors in the lower classroom level swinging open lazily, locks undone. As per the campus regulations, each dorm room was opened, examined, and closed, primarily looking for undocumented damages, such as broken pipes, gaping holes in the wall, faulty wiring, and the like.

Fresh from training, a sweaty, shorts and bra-top clad Rogue noted one rhinoceros shaped hole hidden behind a rolling armoire in the girls dormitory. Apparently one of their male ferals had been a little too frisky at some point during the semester. Mentally gazing down to her three-carbon-copy paper attached to a monogrammed clipboard, she made a note of Rhino’s damage, then tallied an additional fee to the list next to the rambunctious mutant-child’s name.

A crack in the floor of Rictor’s room signified nothing other than an earth-rattling adolescent temper tantrum or a bad nightmare. Julio had enough troubles in his life, and unlike Rhino who came from an upper-middle-class background, his tuition was funded by one of Xavier’s grant programs for unfortunates. Making note of the last repair, Rogue sauntered next door to Siren’s room, frowning at the shattered mirror in her suite bathroom. She thought Storm had made it perfectly clear that the girl was no longer allowed to sing in the shower anymore.

Placing a check next to ‘Bathroom Damages - Mirror,’ she glanced suspiciously at the frayed edges of the screen outside the room window. Flicking her fingers towards the frame, it opened upwards with a snap and a gust associated with telekinetic power. Unfortunately for Jean, they had bumped into each other while changing in the locker room last week. Rogue, mental blocks notwithstanding, was not prepared, and subsequently knocked Jean flat on her back.

Evolutionary control, jump-started by Sage, one of Xavier’s assistants around eight years ago allowed her to retain the power of any mutant she had skin-to-skin contact with. Rogue, although sorry to have injured her colleague, had always coveted Jean’s ability to move things with her mind and had been secretly pleased to obtain a smidgeon of it.

Rogue couldn’t stop a tsunami with her thoughts, but being able to turn off her lights and pull the covers up with a blink was damn convenient. Jean apparently didn’t use her powers for such menial activities, instead preferring the physicality associated with the little things in life.

Rogue, the mansion’s resident badass, however, lived by the mantra that if you’ve got it, well dammit, you should flaunt it.

And flaunt she did.

Dancing her fingers along an invisible air current, a silky, long pinion feather twirled into her fingers. Apparently legendary creatures like Angels and Sirens (she giggled at her own joke) were having illicit moonlight rendezvouses.

“Just you wait Warren,” Rogue snickered, “I’m going to call your mother.”

Checking the box labeled ‘Visitation Violation - Window,’ she stepped into the hallway, locked the door behind her as she had done with all the others. The very last door was located at the end of the hallway, it was a corner room, meaning it was a bit smaller than all the rest, and normally given as a single.

In fact, when Rogue had been studying at Xavier’s, this room had been hers. Only dangerous mutants like Siren, or in this case, Bruiser, were given their very own room.

Did that mean that she was dangerous?

You better damn well believe it.

Sighing, Rogue pulled her hair up into a ponytail and fiddled with her fading powers of magnetic projection. It had been so long since Ellis Island that Magneto was barely a one volume, dime store novel in her library of mutant powers. Rogue, however, needed to gird herself before she opened this door, and a magnetic forcefield would be just the trick.

Bruiser was notorious for laying traps.

As one of the mansion’s orphans, Bruiser was not required to remove her things at the end of every semester. Bruiser, or Molly, as she was known by other fellow pre-teen mutated hellions, was capable of lifting a hundred tons psionically. She’d almost killed Frank Castle when he attempted to round her up the last time Molly had disappeared.

Even Rogue had a healthy respect for the Punisher.

Anyone, Bruiser in this circumstance, who could put Frank flat on his back and out for ten counts deserved an even healthier dose of respect.

Opening the door as she had the window, a blast of rock-salt buckshot slammed into Rogue via a stolen sawed-off, bouncing harmlessly off her skin, now coated in osmium, courtesy of Colossus.

“Little bitch,” Rogue growled in a slightly affectionate manner. She sympathized with the kid after all. Hell, Anna Marie D’Ancanto might not have been an orphan, but being disowned and thrown on the streets as a “mutie-whore” was practically the same thing in Rogue’s book. That didn’t mean Rogue wasn’t going to smash Molly’s head into the Danger Room’s padded walls like a click-clack upon her return from Camp Mutant in August.

All it would take is someone not Rogue to open the door, and a spontaneous, serious-as-hell pre-teen mutant death-match throw down would knock down an entire wing of the mansion.

And that, every X-man could concur, was not something they were ever in the mood for. Just the lecture from Big Daddy Charles would be enough to guilt trip into extending her teaching contract in this insane asylum for ten more years.

Peering wearily into the room, bright with afternoon sunlight, Rogue noted no obvious damages and checked the box next to ‘Booby Trapped with intent to Anger,’ then added Bruiser’s name to a list of bathroom cleaning duty for next semester.

Padding down the hallway with her checklist, Rogue childishly slid down the massive banister attached to the main staircase, then cruised into the teacher’s lounge to drop her checklist in Kurt’s box. Nightcrawler, being so ‘bamf’ (here she laughed again at her own humor), was quick to finish and distribute paperwork to both the school and Camp Mutant, where Xavier’s students who didn’t have summer homes to return to spent their vacation.

Twiddling her bare toes on the cold travertine of the hallway, she stretched her arms upwards and inhaled deeply.

Now what?

Rogue had the mansion to herself, save for Hank tinkering in the med-lab and the professor researching in his study for the next week. Most of the X-men had departed to various vacation destinations, and the hired guns, or ‘skeleton crew,’ as Xavier so demurely called them, were supposedly on their way to the mansion to assist with security.

Most of these so-called ‘hired guns’ were just mutants Xavier wanted to coerce into joining the X-men, purveyors of world peace and all that jazz. They were given a stipend for their month’s worth of work, then the option of staying on as permanent additions to campus staff.

So far, she hadn’t seen a damn one of them.

Shrugging indifferently and telling herself Xavier would call on her if she was truly needed, Rogue danced down the hallway towards the teacher’s wing. Fluttering her eyelids, she opened and shut the windows along the hallway with her mind, creating her own personal rhythm. Opening the door to her cheery three-room suite, she shucked off her shorts and bra-top, then trotted towards her shower. Jubilee and Kitty had once lived in the two bedrooms with adjoining bath, but now both worked in Washington on mutant affairs, leaving the rooms vacant.

Stepping inside, she de-sweatified herself with relish, shaved her slightly prickly legs and armpits, then shampooed her hair with soap Ororo had brought back from the Caribbean as a birthday gift. Late afternoon summer sunlight made rainbow patterns on the earth-toned persian rug. Rogue stuck her feet in the optical illusion, smiling at the patterns it played on her skin.

Yawning, butt-ass-naked, and in desperate need of a nap after her early morning security rounds before breakfast and student departure, she opened the door to her bedroom, then collapsed onto her king sized bed. She had left the black-out curtains down that morning - it was pitch black, and the ceiling fan was on high.

Her favorite.

Stretching out, Rogue fiddled with all of her muscles, flexing and relaxing them from the balls of her feet upwards. Flinging her arms outwards, she was surprised when her super-strong hand slammed into something hard, muscled, and most definitely human.

Faster than she could fly, Rogue was jerked up by the neck and slammed back into the dry-wall, knocking one of Kitty’s paintings down behind the headboard with a ‘slam!’ She gulped nervously, and felt something extremely sharp slide against her neck.

“Who. The. Fuck. Are. You.” a deep, growling voice demanded. The knives, at least what she assumed were knives, pressed harder against her skin. She gasped when her invulnerability didn’t hold up, a trickle of hot, sticky blood sliding down to pool at her clavicle.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, calmly letting her mind turn on the lights.

The mutant, as it was now obvious that those were not knives but fucking-huge-ass-claws, made of metal and coming out from between her captor’s knuckles, tickling her chin looked like he’d been on a highway to hell. Dark, upswept hair and overgrown mutton-chops framed a ruggedly handsome face with fierce, hazel eyes. He looked wildly about as the black-out curtains also rose with a touch of her mind, releasing her neck, snarling, and whirling wildly about to check for other ‘intruders.’

Daring a glance down, Rogue confirmed that her captor was also naked, aroused, and hotter than the ninth circle of Dante’s Inferno and hell combined.

Hot damn.

“You’re in my room, I’m Rogue,” she said, sprawling gently beneath her feral companion -- she’d seen him sniffing cautiously while snarling, definitely a feral thing. Sliding her neck upwards and averting her eyes, wet hair strewn out like a pillow behind her, Rogue decided to play it submissive, and therefore, safe. In her head, she was pissed as hell. School's resident badass climbs into her own, occupied bed. What kind of madness was currently possessing?

This was how X-men got killed. Skewered by he-man claws attached to aroused ferals. Mother fucker. She might have even had a file on this idiot dropped into her box earlier this week. Obviously this is what you got when you didn't check your email either. Not that Charles couldn't have sent word faster that the web with a little mind-to-mind heart-to-heart. You know - just a "Oh, hey Rogue, fyi, crazy mother is coming into town with some sort of swiss-army attachment, let me know when he gets here?!, occasionally might make life a lot easier.

Rogue was so caught up in her inner ramblings she barely noticed her companion inching his nose closer to her skin, currently in the 'off' and 'useless' position. Fuck.

Opening his mouth, he paused, then said, “Wolverine,” playing along with her cave-man-code-name-game, “The fuck kind of name is Rogue?”

“I don’t know,” Rogue spat back, still averting her eyes as Wolverine leaned in to slide his tongue against her bleeding neck, “What kind of name is Wolverine?”

“Logan,” he chuckled, darkly, catching the spike of arousal in her jittery, nervous scent.

“Marie,” she hissed.

“You one of Chuck’s kids?” he purred, claws sliding back into his knuckles slowly. He hissed as if it hurt - but in a good way.

“I’m not exactly a kid,” Marie managed to ‘eep’ out as one hand gently caressed a breast in passing as he patted her down, checking for weapons, “I’m a teacher, and I’m guessing you’re my Summer of my Mercenary Soldier?”

“Something like that, I suppose,” the feral mused, rocking back onto his heels and crouching like some sort of big cat on the African savanna, “Not sure there’s anything you X-Geeks can teach me though.”

Scoffing, Marie propped herself up on her elbows, seriously pissed. Reaching for the nearest sheet, she wadded herself up in it and flipped her visitor the bird.

“Chuck told me you were going to be accommodating,” Logan smirked as she unintentionally pushed her breasts forward, nipples hard in the cool air. He curled his lip upwards, lithely backflipping off the bed and onto his feet, “You gotta shower I can use before I come back and take you up on that introductory offer?”

“Mine’s next door - help your fucking self,” Marie groused, planting her face squarely in the pillow, pissed at herself for climbing into bed with a total stranger. She grimaced - Xavier would want her to be nice to his new X-soldier.

“Hell if I’m fucking him, though,” she muttered, lights and curtains sliding down as her eyes fluttered shut.

Rogue rubbed her cheek deeper into the soft expanses of her pillow, wallowing in the warmth that surrounded her. The incessant beeping of her alarm, probably turned on by Xavier when she hadn’t shown up for their normal afternoon game of chess, blared near her ear.

“Mother fucker,” she snarled, then attempted to pull herself towards the clock, intending to smash it into a million, itsy, bitsy, pieces.

Instead, she found herself jerked backwards into a firm, naked chest by the arm she had most certainly not noticed, wrapped snugly around her waist.

“Wha?” she yelped. In her fury, the lights flickered on so quickly she shattered the bulbs in her favorite lamps, glass spraying everywhere, as she wiggled out of his embrace and fell backwards off the bed in a tangle of sheets and pillowcases.

“Geez, are you always like this?” a growling, mildly hibernatorial voice grumbled, “Nice view,” her bed companion purred, eyes raking over her exposed breasts and toned stomach, sweeping down to the apex of her thighs, barely covered by her white pillow.

Blushing furiously, Rogue covered her bare body with a sheet, narrowing her eyes at the interloper curled comfortably under her light weight maitelaise coverlet, the white fabric contrasting against his tan skin and rippling muscles. His hair was wild and ruffled as he covered his yawning mouth, chin leaning comfortably on the arm snugly ensconced around one of her sham pillows.

He jerked the coverlet down and back, and Rogue gulped at the sight of his erection, mildly panicking as her thoughts quickly left the “pissed as hell” terminal and departed for their destination at “definitely aroused.” It had been a very long time since Remy had left the mansion to run the branch of the international school established in New Orleans...

“So?” he purred, rolling to sit on his buttocks. He leaned down and tugged the sheet underneath her with enough force to launch her forward, her face landing solidly between his slightly spread legs. She could feel the heat emanating off of him.

“So, what?” she managed to squeak, attempting to push herself up into a sitting position by grabbing the bed on either side of him. Instead, she grabbed his thighs, her breath catching in her throat as the strong muscles beneath his skin twitched at their brief contact.

Holy crap. She didn’t even know this guy and she wanted him so bad it hurt.

“You, me, birds and the bees?” he growled, standing so that his member brushed against her abs. Rogue felt the hot pool of arousal in her stomach and almost died inside when he inhaled, a pleased smirk spreading across his face, the edge of a longer than normal canine protruding from the side of his mouth in a devil-may-care sort of fashion.

Rogue shook and nodded her head at the same time. The sane part of her screamed to run, run, run while the primal, unsatisfied female inside of her wanted to latch claws into the feral and fuck.

Shit.

She turned quickly, attempting to dart from the room into the bathroom. He was faster, catching her hands in his own and whirling her so the backs of her knees touched the edge of the bed. One gentle shove and she fell backwards, legs sprawling open instinctively to accommodate for his thighs and cock, the latter of which rubbed slightly against her sex, creating an unbelievably hot friction that left her absolutely breathless.

“Oh,” she gasped as his tongue slid out to slide against one breast - she had to get control of this situation, and fast! - and the interloper, oh what did he call himself, “Wolverine,” she yelped, hands fisting in his hair, “We can’t do this, I, I can’t do this,” she panted, attempting to pull him away from her décolletage.

“Why not?” he rumbled, and she could swear she felt the vibration in his voice through he tip of his cock, pressing gently against her moist entrance.

“I barely know you, you barely know,” here he nibbled on her neck and she rolled her eyes back into her head, “me,” she managed to eep out.

“And? You got any prior commitments, cuz I sure as hell don’t,” he growled, not pausing in his ministrations, instead he smirked and slid backwards away from her, mouth trailing a wet path of nibbles, licks, and gentle kisses towards her sex, and Rogue found that she couldn’t really think of any reason to tell him to stop when his tongue was trailing across her slick folds, lips rolling her pearl back and forth so that she could hardly contain the guttural cry that slipped from her lips as she spilled over the edge into oblivion.

As she panted from her orgasm, Rogue cried out as he moved away from her, only to replace his tongue with the head of his member, which pushed past the edge of her opening to tease her, only an inch of him squeezed by trembling, tight muscles.

“Well?” he growled, and Rogue could see the absolute self-control the man possessed, holding his weight above her on arms thick with corded muscle, cock barely pressed inside her, his hips tense and ready to flex forward with the slightest sign of affirmation from her.

Rogue opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by a knock at her door as it swung open without a second glance, the familiar figure of Jubilation Lee dancing inside.
“Ma-rie,” her sing song voice chirruped, “Kitty and I are home for the weekend, and...”

Jubes caught sight of the scene on the bed, Rogue, breasts and chest heaving, face flushed, slightly damp hair spread across cream coverlet with a fine pair of male, muscular legs, ass, and back obviously preparing to, or in the process of impaling her on his you-know-what. Jubes gulped, eyes wide and shocked, “Oh...I guess I shoulda called.”

Wolverine - Logan, that was his name, turned and snarled viciously, his hands clenched tightly on Rogue’s thighs, one of which had somehow become perched on his shoulder, the other with his fingertips pressing faint red marks into it from where he had secured it around his thigh, “Get out, can’t you see we’re a little busy here?” he hissed, teeth clenched.

“Yup, very busy,” Jubes stammered, turning to walk out the door as Kitty Pryde promptly phased through it.

“Rogue!” Kitty squealed, “Let’s go out tonight and...” half-in-half-out of the door, she caught sight of mid-coitus Wolverine-and-Rogue, and gasped. “Oh my God,” she gulped, covering her eyes promptly with her hands, “I’m so sorry, I’ll just, um leave you to that!”

Kitty disappeared through the floor as quickly as she came, Jubes’ slamming the door behind her.

Rogue covered her face with her hands, absolutely mortified. Not just Jubilee, but sweet, innocent Kitty had walked in on her mid-fuck, “Oh God,” she groaned, arousal fading almost as quickly as it had passionately risen, “There isn’t going to be a rock big enough to crawl under that I can get away from this one!”

The Wolverine just growled and stalked away from her, leaving her sprawled across the bed in one big post orgasmic, but unfulfilled heap.

“Wait,” she stammered, sitting up to face him as he began to search in a napsack thrown in the corner of her room, finally pulling out a pair of faded and patched blue jeans, “What’s wrong?”

“Well,” he snarled, “You obviously don’t want to be seen with me, so I’ll be going, thank you.”

She jumped up, not understanding exactly why she felt the need to explain herself to him, despite the fact that they had barely known each other more than six hours, “You don’t understand,” she rushed, one hand pressing against his bare chest before he could tug the blue jeans all the way on, “It’s not being caught with you, it’s just that Jubes is the biggest gossip in the United States of America, and she’s going to tell everyone about what she saw, even if she doesn’t mean to.”

“If you know she’s a gossip, then why do you care?” he growled, dark eyes staring into her own.

“I don’t, I don’t want them to get the wrong idea,” she said, wincing as she realized it came out wrong, “Not about me,” she hastily filled in, “They’re my best friends, they know all my secrets, I just don’t want them spreading rumors about you.”

“Rumors like what,” he scoffed, “That I’m a feral that loves to fuck? The legendary Wolverine, balls deep in another conquest, unable to control his animalistic urges, only pausing to eat, sleep, and occasionally sink these,” he unsheathed his claws, voice raising in volume, “In unsuspecting victims for shits and giggles? Think I don’t know why your professor hired me for the summer? Trust me, I’ve done this gig before girl - twenty years back, long before you ever stepped foot in Xavier’s.”

He had unintentionally backed Rogue into her dresser, claws tickling her skin, “Look,” she stammered, unafraid of his claws, “I was a willing participant a few minutes ago, and I’ve never even heard of you before, even if you are legendary, like you said.”

“I’m a legend in Japan,” he huffed, sniffing her and detecting honesty thick in her tone. His nose slid against her neck, and Rogue felt her breath catch again, knees shaking as she found herself almost aching to be filled. He turned away to fiddle with his jeans again, and Rogue turned to scoot towards her own favorite comfortable clothes drawer. Pulling out a comfy cotton dress, she was lifting it over her head in a slightly disappointed fashion when hands grasped her hips and tugged her back into firm, bare thighs.

“Did you think I was finished with you yet?” he growled, lips vibrating against her ear and making her quiver.

“Oh, God, I hope not,” she panted. It was almost as if she was unable to control her response to him, that she was picking up on something radiating off of him, or aphrodisiacs had been in her gym water bottle this morning.

He flipped her over, ass in the air, spread across the side of her bed. His fingers mimicked his tongue from earlier, and soon Rogue was absolutely dripping as he slid his cock home into her tight, wet heat, a groan of pleasure vibrating from his chest and through her back.

Rogue vaguely remembered telling herself yesterday that she was not going to do this.

But the feel of him deep inside her, grinding her clit against the soft covers and the pads of his skilled, roughened fingertips was enough to make her forget that particular resolution, and enjoy the ride.

Damn the consequences.

Rogue had never been this goddamned embarrassed in her entire life.

Not only had she hung her morals out to dry, she’d fucked a man she hardly knew until they had both collapsed from exhaustion.

And damn, had it been good.

She’d slipped out of her room as soon as he’d moved to hit the showers. She hadn’t offered to join him. She wasn’t running away - that was completely out of the question.

She was just going down to the team showers. Yeah, the team showers. Where she could make sure that Kitty and Jubilee didn’t walk in on her. This had nothing to do with a feral mutant, who was currently upstairs in her shower, running his hands over something that was not a six pack, more like a ten pack, possibly sliding those hands lower to cup...

“Fucking hell, I am such a coward,” Marie growled at herself as she jerked open her locker and snatched her toiletries kit from beneath several sour, sweaty towels. She was freaking blushing for chrissakes.

The Rogue did not, never had, most certainly could not blush.

“I am not a damn schoolgirl,” she snarled quietly, uncapping her sakura blossom shampoo and conditioner two-in-one and dousing her sweat tousled locks liberally. Letting it sit, she reached for her froggy shaped loofa and squeezed a dollop of sugar scrub on it before trying to completely eradicate the feral’s scent from her body.

*Rogue? Can I see you in my office in ten minutes?*

Xavier’s sudden, extremely loud verbal quip made her yelp. She slipped forward, her forehead slamming into the tile shower stall wall with a loud crack.

It was official. She would never touch a fucking telepath again. Volume control on mind-fuck radio was definitely something that didn’t come along with telepathic powers automatically.

Rubbing her forehead, Rogue groaned and rinsed the suds off of her hair and body, toweled dry, and wiggled into a brand new sports bra and X-sweats she purloined from Storm’s secret stash of goodies in the storage closet. Her old combat boots she slid on without socks. Gross. Tugging a comb through her hair, she searched through her laundry list of powers until she found what she was looking for.

With a quick tweak, John’s inner fire heated up her hands and a cool wind from Storm combined to form the world’s first mutant hair dryer.

Fuck yeah, she was a freaking genius.

Pulling her hair into a pony tail, she hovered above the ground using Carol’s powers, then shot through three levels of ceilings and pipes like a ghost - Kitty’s powers were damn useful - finally slipping through a thick persian rug directly in front of Xavier’s desk.

Before she had fully phased through, a wild punch came swinging at her from her immediate left. The fist passed through her, and her attacker’s surprise gave her enough time to shoot straight up to the top of the fourteen foot ceilings. There, she unconsciously eyed her attacker with feral-Sabretooth inspired bloodlust. Letting gravity take over, she dropped, instinctively coating herself with Colossus’ cardonadium skin, one foot slamming into her opponent’s skull with a metallic crack.

Pressing her foot down, the red haze in her eyes faded. She inhaled deeply, then almost laughed.

The Wolverine was sprawled beneath her metal boot, bare chest heaving, a vicious snarl erupting from lips that had suckled hickies on her no-no zones an hour prior. Spittle shot from his mouth and landed on her boot.

“Get the fuck off of me,” he hissed. His metal claws scraped against her leg, the alloy in them leaving deep scratches.

Rogue glanced to the Professor, who nodded at her subtly. She removed her foot, stepped to the side, then offered the Wolverine a hand.

“I see you’ve met the Wolverine, I apologize, Logan, if Rogue startled you, she has many powers” Charles said amiably, as if a giant mutant pissing contest hadn’t just erupted in his office moments before, “Wolverine, or Logan, I should say, this is the Rogue, known to some as Marie D’Ancanto, our combat instructor.”

“We’ve met,” he growled, nursing his wounded pride as he slumped into an uncomfortable arm chair Xavier called telepathically from the back of the room.

“Rogue, please sit,” Charles asked, and she did, chest heaving, “This is the Wolverine, known to some as James Logan, he will be our guest for the summer.”

“We’ve met,” she said, repeating Logan’s answer with a straight face. She tried not to blush as he scratched at a rapidly fading hickey beneath his left nipple.

“The Wolverine will be helping you with your guard duties as part of the skeleton shift, I hope to have a few more mutants join us in the following weeks. I would appreciate it if you would partner up with him, get him reacquainted with the mansion as well as your duties.” Charles pursed his lips as if trying not to laugh, then teepeed his fingers, pushing them together lightly, “Since it is almost eight o’clock, why don’t we see about some dinner with our friends Kitty and Jubilee, I’m sure they will be most happy to meet you, Logan, they are very friendly girls.”

“The girls around here do seem to be friendly,” Logan growled snarkily, darting a glance in Rogue’s direction. A vivid mental image of his cock pounding into her willing sex slipped right through Rogue’s mental barriers, making her shudder slightly.

“So it would seem,” Xavier coughed lightly, as if he had caught a whiff of what Logan was projecting mentally, then rolled his wheelchair backwards and towards the door, “Shall we?”

Trying not to blush again at the thought of the Professor catching a glimpse of her moral slip, Rogue jumped up and made to dash after the Professor.

Logan caught her hand, tugging her backwards, “We’ll catch up in a second,” he said, nodding to the Professor, who lifted an eyebrow curiously and then continued on to the kitchen.

“Nice kick, Mah-rie,” he drawled, fist like a vice grip around her thin wrist.

“I do try, sugar,” she quipped, almost staggering as she caught a quick glimpse of his thoughts. He was damn horny, this one, the fact that she’d ko’d him in less than a minute had his inner beastie wanting to jump her bones right then and there.

“I think there’s a little more to you than meets the eye,” he growled, his chest vibrating visibly. He stood, backing her towards the Professor’s desk. Her super strong fingers clenched the hardwood edge, leaving small dents.

“I could break you in half,” she snarled. If the Wolverine wanted to prove his masculinity, he’d had to do more than intimidate her. She might have been a girl - but she had balls too.

“Mmm, kinky, you know I’d just heal and be as good as new afterwards?” His hips slid against hers, and her resolve flickered once more.

“I’m not easy,” she slipped out, her bare hands moving from the desk to his bare chest, “I could drop you faster than a hot potato.”

“Faster than you did earlier, hah! I’m expecting you this time girl, I dare you to try it, in fact, I bet you...oh three days of servitude if you can knock me out in less than ten seconds,” Logan was grinning now, a shit-eating grin. The Wolverine had this one pegged, “But if I win, you do whatever I want for three days.” r32;
Rogue’s mind whirled. Damn she was hungry, she could barely think straight. Three days of servitude would be enough to get all of her summer chores done... But what if his healing factor negated her brain-drain?

Thinking back to the amazing sex she’d had earlier, Rogue thought even losing wouldn’t be that bad of an idea.

“You have a deal,” she grinned, “When do I start?”

“Now,” he growled.

Rogue turned her skin on full blast.

“One,” Logan managed to choke out, before his skin was riddled with thick blue veins, eyes rolling back into his head as he collapsed in an incoherent bubble on the floor.

“Somebody get the number of that truck?” Logan groaned, half-assed, as his eyes uncrossed and opened, blearily, to stare at the girl standing over him, hands on her hips, chocolate brown waves and platinum streaks swaying gently in the breeze wafting through the Professor’s open windows.

“You alright, tough guy?” Rogue asked. Logan noticed she was biting her bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh.

Dammit.

KO’d by a fucking girl, and twice in one day nonetheless! What the hell was Charles putting in the water these days? Red Bull and steroids?

Damn she had nice cleavage. It was all pushed together, nice and snug in that spandex sports bra as she leaned over... God she was awful close to him. He couldn’t help but inhale deeply. Her scent smelled of lavender and sunshine, and of him, he was pleased to note. Even a shower couldn’t mask the smell of rutting.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I’m fine,” Logan managed to stammer. Between the woody from hell that was popping up in his pants to the headache now making his entire body throb, he wasn’t exactly sure which end was up. She extended her hand, and he shook his head no as he rolled on his side and pushed himself up in a sitting position.

“Sorry, darlin’, I’m just a little too heavy for the likes of you,” he explained, “Now, about that bet,” he began, but was taken aback when the tiny girl in front of him simply reached down and hauled him up to his feet, barely straining her muscles.

“Follow me, sugar,” Rogue quipped. She moved from biting her bottom lip to the inside of her cheek. This guy looked entirely bamboozled by her, “Remember, you are my slave for the next three days.”

“Well I’ll be damend,” Wolverine muttered, watching as she turned and sashayed away from him, tawny skin rippling, hips swaying, ass tantalizingly dragging him along so that he traipsed after her like a lost puppy.

He stopped at the doorway, sobered by that thought. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that the Wolverine was going to be whupped by some pup barely out of puberty. He growled under his breath, then caught a glimpse of her disappearing around the corner down the hall.

He was just going to have to get her to reconsider this ‘slave’ for three days thing. The Wolverine couldn’t be a slave - he wasn’t meant to be tamed! He’d had her mewling underneath him only hours before, and he’d do it again! Bet and honor be damned!

Having convinced himself of his manliness, Wolverine continued after the girl, his nose guiding him to both her and the kitchens, which had been renovated in the time since he had last been at the mansion. Puffing his chest out, he let his arms rest nonchalantly on his hips, biceps curling and bulging from the motion. The action immediately caught the attention of the two snoops from earlier, both deep in whispered conversation at the far end of the island that split the massive kitchen area in two.

Stainless steel appliances and modern concrete countertops were paired with rustic hardwood cabinetry, a subdued tiled backsplash protecting the walls beneath the floating cabinets. A various array and assortment of fresh fruits and veggies was strategically placed at the end of the counter. Rogue reached and plucked a carrot out of the pile without looking, popping it in her mouth with a loud ‘crunch!’ He wrinkled his nose at the rabbit food, instead following it to where Rogue was plucking a freshly prepared cheeseburger off a white and blue patterned serving dish next to the counter.

She dumped a huge spoonful of chili on top of it, followed by a healthy dollop of Texas Pete and a large glob of ranch dressing and ketchup. Logan’s tongue smacked irritably at the top of his mouth as he attempted to picture the taste combination. It wasn’t good, to say the least. A large glass of red koolaid and a handful of sour cream and onion potato chips later, she scooted by him, circling around the counter to take a seat at the island.

“Got any beer?” Wolverine asked, taste buds tingling at the thought.

Rogue gestured towards a smaller refrigerator that was squeezed next to the trash compactor. A large retina recognition program lock was in place, obviously to prevent the students from sneaking into their supervisors secret liquor stash. Wolverine scowled as he leaned forward, his recently updated profile on the mansion’s database granting him instant access to the booze. Lifting an eyebrow, he huffed as he glanced at the meager selection. No Molson’s - crap. One hand felt around until a bottle of Miller managed to find its way into his nimble fingers.

“Any Molson’s in there?” Rogue asked, interrupting his reverie as he twisted the cap off of his beer and moved to fix a plate of cheeseburgers for himself. Damn. She was hot, he’d fucked her, she smelled delicious, and now she liked Molson’s? What was next, did she like hockey too?

He shook his head, instead handing her the first bottle of beer his finger’s reached when he opened the fridge once more. She gestured her head towards him in thanks, ignoring the snickers that emanated from her friends close by.

“So what’s first on the agenda...master,” Wolverine practically purred, loading his voice with as much sex appeal as possible. He mentally gave props to his inner beasty, which was enhancing his voice with as much testosterone it could muster, giving him that growly, purring overtone that tended to make women in his vicinity shudder deliciously.

He was rewarded by a light flush as the girls in the corner giggled louder, one of them - the Asian chick - almost snorting iced tea out of her nose. Instead, she exploded in a coughing fit that left the petite brunette pounding away on her back, trying to get her to breathe properly.

Rolling her eyes, Marie reached towards her waist, lifting up her smart phone and flipping to her calendar app. She absentmindedly sipped at her beer, as she trailed through her to-do list, “Well, after this I’d like to go over the security system with you, give you a quick brief on our new danger room sims, and probably a wall patrol before eleven. Kitty and Jubes have kindly volunteered for the two o’clock shift, and Beast is covering late night.”

“Sounds fun,” he growled, his empty beer bottle making a hollow sound against the countertop as he put it down, “Are we on duty every night?”

“No, once some of our older students come back from camp in a few weeks, they’ll take over the shift as part of the JTP.”

“JTP?” Logan quirked an eyebrow, reached to the fridge, and grabbed another beer.

“Junior X-Men Training Protocols,” Marie replied, licking ketchup off of her finger in a sensuous motion that had him going from hard, to harder. He had to get this chick alone again, and soon. Hell, he’d even settle for mostly alone.

Swallowing the final bite of his cheeseburger, Logan was transfixed by a tiny drip of beer that had slipped from Marie’s lips. She didn’t seem to notice as it trickled down her chin, sliding onto her neck and trailing tantalizingly towards her ample cleavage, barely covered by the sports bra she’d donned after her shower.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned over and licked her neck from clavicle to ear lobe, breath hot and heavy against her skin. Marie froze at the action, melting like a puddle, insides quivering at the touch of his tongue, his breath super charging the already heated atmosphere between the two of them.

Jubilee and Kitty were uncharacteristically silent.

“I think I should go,” Marie said, half-stammering. She shoved her plastic plate across the counter, where it clattered into the sink.

Wolverine almost howled in appreciation as she darted from the room. He loved a good chase.

Nodding casually to the stupefied girls in the corner, he strolled out of the kitchen and scented the air. A devilish smirk appeared on his face. He turned towards the elevator, nose gently siphoning through the various odors that inhabited the mansion. Another feral scent, male, floated up the stairs, combined with an overpowering stench of antiseptic and medical supplies. He caught a whiff of his own scent, intermingled with the flowery smells of shampoo and dampened skin, and his grin spread even wider.

The hunt was on!

Following the scent up the main staircase, Wolverine was momentarily puzzled when it jumped from one floor to the next, but attributed it to Marie’s already observed power to phase. He slunk upwards, heading towards a narrow, steep service staircase that led to one of the mansion’s large towers.

SECURITY, was emblazoned across the door he found after reaching the top, and his keen eyes picked up a greasy fingerprint adorning the brass handle that smelled distinctly of ketchup and potato chips.

“Gotcha,” he growled, reaching for the knob - and finding it locked! Snarling to himself, he released one claw, sliced through the lock, and stepped into the room.

Marie had her back to him, flipping through security camera logs, purposefully attempting to ignore him from her position in the captain’s chair that sat in front of the massive computer console.

“Oh, you found me,” she said, her words clipped and short, “Our security system is maintained via Cerebro,” she attempted to explain, hands gesturing vaguely. She was refusing to even look at him.

Wolverine would make her pay for that.

“Why don’t you show me what to do?” Wolverine interjected, hands coming to rest atop her own, which were sitting on the keyboard in front of her. She gulped.

“A-alright,” Marie stammered, and tried to wiggle her fingers from beneath his, but to no avail. His breath was hot on her neck once more, and she squirmed, her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably, “First, you have to verify your identity through retina scan and a DNA scan. This helps keep shifters from violating our codes, as most of the time even though their outward appearance shifts, their inner DNA structure does not.”

She managed to place her hand on top of Logan’s, moving it to sit on the DNA scanning pad. His thumb rubbed a scorching path across her skin, and she sucked in a sharp gasp at the contact.

Wolverine grinned. She was on high alert, her nerve endings on pins and needles at the merest touch. The hunter was closing in on his prey.

“What’s next, darlin’?” he rumbled, lips leaning in and brushing against her ear.

Suddenly, the Wolverine found himself pinned against the bare wall behind him, one, super-strong hand keeping him from moving while the other fiddled with the belt on the waistband of his jeans. A quick jerk and it came undone, Marie’s fingers sliding into his pants to grasp his erection firmly, giving it several tugs that left his mind reeling.

Hot lips closed around his shaft, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Her tongue was absolutely magic, burning a passionate trail from the base of his cock to the tip, where her teeth grazed slightly against the head before she practically swallowed him whole.

“Oh, fuck,” Wolverine managed to snarl out, hands entwining in her hair gently massaging her scalp as she let out a pleased purr that vibrated his balls and made his knees weak. He could feel a mind blowing orgasm building in the base of his shaft, hips snapping forward to pump into the sweet wetness of her mouth... when suddenly she pulled away.

Stepped back.

And left the room.

Left him, with his pants around his ankles and his dick harder than the Berlin Wall.

“Sonufabitch!” Wolverine snarled, jerking his pants up and hauling ass down the metal steps. He caught up to Marie in one of the dormitory hallways, her hair swinging jauntily down her mostly bare back.

“What the fuck was that for?” he yelped, wishing he had worn underwear as his still hard member rubbed uncomfortably against the seam of his zipper.

“I am your master, remember?” Marie asked, smirking devilishly as she turned, one hand on her hip, “That means I call the shots.”

“That’s just fucking cruel, Marie!” Wolverine hissed, attempting to rearrange the contents of his pants with one hand as he gestured with the other. “Throw a guy a freaking bone here!”

“Well, I did give you a boner,” Marie said, smiling like a stewardess, “That’s gotta count for something. See you in the danger room!”
r32;With that she winked, and phased out of sight.

Wolverine bolted towards the nearest elevator. Marie was getting ready to discover that all bets were off!