“I want to watch you fuck Jean.”

I stared. I couldn't help it. Those words coming from rosy pink lips, so recently pressed to clear glass and sucking in amber liquid, floored me. I met those dark eyes, glassy from the drink, and watch those lips stretch out in an unmistakable predatory grin. She flicked a finger over my nose drunkenly, pushing a second too long, and I felt her mutation begin to pull before she took her skin away from mine. Drinking makes her lose some of the control she's worked so hard to gain, but she always said it didn't matter because she so rarely got drunk.

It took me a minute to fully comprehend that my best friend had actually suggested that she wanted to watch me and another woman having sex. Meanwhile, Rogue downed another finger of amaretto and looked at the bottle as if contemplating the answers to mutant existence for a moment before swiping one of my beers, expertly popping the top and chugging it. It looked like she was trying to make good on her vow to get so drunk tonight, her twenty-first birthday, that she wouldn't be able to remember anything the next morning. That's why she asked me to come with her to this seedy bar. She knew she could trust me, she said.

I should have known it was a bad idea. I hoped that she would just forget the whole thing in the next minute or so, go back to being the amusing bubbly drunk she'd started to show before this insane idea presented itself to her twisted brain.

“Well, are you gonna let me or not?” Rogue asked again, her words slurring as she attempted to pour herself another few fingers of amaretto. I helped her, still hoping that insane thought would sink back into the depths of her inebriated head.

“Rogue, what makes you think she's going to let me fuck her, let alone let you watch?” I tried to ask reasonably. I gave up calling her Marie three years ago when she screamed at me about it, swearing she never wanted to hear that name again.

Chuckling at some drunken thought, Rogue leaned back, glass dangling dangerously loose from bare fingertips. “I know she'll let you fuck her because she still smells like she wants you whenever you walk by, married to Scott or not,” she said, head lolling to one side as she grinned vacantly. She sounded surprisingly lucid for an insane drunk woman. “And your voice inside my head keeps telling me what a fine piece of ass she'd be.”

“So you're blaming this on a voice in your head?” Yes, Rogue had definitely gone crazy. I knew what she was talking about, but for pity's sake, even if you hear voices in your head, you should never listen to them!

“Your voice. Yours, telling me what a nice ass she has, about how you'd put your hands just there when you finally got her under you. Telling me what you think about how she smells...it's hot in here, isn't it?” Rogue fanned herself and took another drink. I watched it slide down her throat “It's your fault that your voice is so strong, anyway,” she muttered.

“Why is any of this my fault?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“You keep touching my skin after missions, when you know it's turned on, so that I'll heal. So now I've got you in my head begging for a taste of Jean. I figured if I couldn't get it myself, you could at least be a gentleman and fuck her somewhere where I can watch.” Why does she try and make this sound like a perfectly reasonable line of thought?

“If you're so horny, Rogue, won't don't you just go find someone to fuck yourself?” I have to resist clenching my fists. I think if my claws popped out she would get a hint as to what exactly my feelings were towards that particular action.

That question seemed to sober her up a little. “I can control my powers in most situations, but...sex? I'm not sure that would be a good idea.” Her glassy eyes brightened. “Besides, you promised me a birthday present.”

Now I reached a whole new level of confused. “Doesn't taking you out and getting you drunk count?” Please, please, please.

Rogue shook her head slowly. “Nope. 'Cause you have to do that for your friends on their twenty-first birthday, even if you know they've been stealing drinks for years. No, you owe me a real present, and I want live action porn.” She said the last decisively and a little too loudly. Heads in the bar turned. I watched her pour the rest of the amaretto down her throat, feeling uncomfortable with the way blood was rushing to certain parts of my anatomy—and not just my dick. Well, with the way she was talking, could you blame me for getting horny in turn?

The imaginary scene burned into my brain for a few seconds. Me in bed with Jean, sweaty and naked, thrusting in and out. Rogue next to us, eyes wide and dark, covered in a nylon body suit and nothing else, hand busy between her own legs. Yeah, I knew which one turned my beginning erection into a raging hard-on, and I also knew it was time to get out of that bar.

“C'mon, Rogue. We're getting out of here,” I said as I threw money at the nearby waitress, pulled Rogue to her feet and was out the door before she, in her state of intoxication, could register what was happening. I felt her tug on my hand.

“Logan, I'm not drunk enough yet! Dammit, you promised me!” she complained, trying to go back into the bar.

“Darlin', are you going to complain about getting your birthday present?” I asked her as I dragged her onto my motorcycle behind me. She stilled for just a second, then to my surprise one slender hand slid down my stomach to cradle my erection, and I groaned.

“Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh, as if I wasn't giving in. “Live porn! Yay!” She leaned her forehead against my shoulder, and I didn't have the heart to tell her yet that her birthday present wasn't going to go quite the way she planned.

See, the imaginary picture of Rogue masturbating decided me. Best friend or not, she was about to star in her own live porn, not just be an observer. After all, I owed her a birthday present, right?