*You can't keep me waiting forever, baby, (your skin, perfect skin)
It's getting hot,
whos gonna rescue me?*
This is fucking insanity. In it’s purest form. I’m not sleeping. I’m not eating. I’m not fucking breathing. Everything stops when she comes around. The whole fucking world stops turning. Only thing still spinning around when she flashes even the tiniest strip of that perfect skin of hers is my head. And I think she knows that.
Fuck. There’s no way in Hell… She has to know. She can’t be that naïve. Not after she has gotten two hefty doses of me in that pretty head of hers. She’s got to know she can make me squirm in my pants under ten seconds. All she has to do is to roll up her sleeves, peel off a glove, or “forget” to button up the collar of her shirt.
All that creamy, untouched skin just under my eyes when she pretends to do her homework in my room. Those dark red lips puckering slightly when she tries to act all confused, and needs my help to solve some fucking equation that’s so ridiculously easy that even gremlin on crack could crack it. Roll of those shoulders. Way she arches her back and rubs her neck, because she has an awful crick in there, and who’s the sucker who gets to rub it loose every fucking time?
She shouldn’t even know half of the stuff that she’s throwing at me. Not in her age. I don’t fucking know how long I can keep up this pretence. Play the part of the concerned guardian and a protector, when all I want to do is to tear off every stitch of clothing from her skin and taste every inch of her.
Oh, I have plans. Several. Every one of them almost fool proof, but not one of them safe enough. I don’t plan to roll over and play dead when I get that close to her, but that’s quite inevitable. She has a perfect skin. Killer skin to go with those killer curves of hers.
I know she’s working with Kurt, trying to get control over her skin through meditation. How do I know that? Because I meditate with them. At least try to. It’s hard to concentrate when she sits in front of me in her skintight gym wear, thin sheen of perspiration covering every inch of exposed skin, and all I want to do is to lick it off. And those eyes of hers, those fucking eyes that should be glassy and emotionless because she is good at this, knows how to meditate and lock the world outside, they’re burning in to mine, practically begging me to throw her down and take her, never mind Kurt, he would probably only enjoy the show.
Even the smallest and most mundane things are some sorts of perverse foreplay to her, only purpose to torture me some more.
Way she descends the stairs in the mornings to go to breakfast, those hips swaying just slightly. A fucking invitation to fucking. Against the railing, her long legs wrapped around me, her painted fingernails tearing deep gouges to my back.
Way she turns her head and smiles when she spots me from the crowd, greeting flowing from her lips so easily. Innocent for the outsiders, but her eyes speak completely different language. Right here, right now. Hard and fast.
Way she seeks me out from the dining hall and comes to sit with me, even when her friends ask her to sit with them. Those moments, it’s like there’s nobody else in this world for her but me. And I want to pull her close and show her there’s definitely nobody else in this world for me but her.
This purgatory wouldn’t be complete without those scarves and gloves of hers. I have a whole drawer stuffed to the brim with those. Different colors and materials, just in case she happens to need them when she comes over, because she has started to relax around me, and usually leaves them back in her room when she comes to see me. All those scraps of leather and cloth remind me every day why exactly I should keep my distance. It has worked so far. I don’t know how long it’ll work.
People here think I trail after Jean. They can keep their illusion. They would fucking neuter me if they knew for who exactly I’m wagging my tail. At least they would make sure to keep closer eye on her. It would probably be for the best, because I can’t keep my paws off from that hot, creamy skin of hers for much longer.
I’m burning up, and it would only be fair to give her a glimpse of how she makes me feel. I have found myself wandering down that path, pondering over all options too often lately.
Who the fuck is going to rescue me?
The 69 Eyes: Perfect Skin
You've gotta perfect skin,
with the devil's grin.
Say hello to the pretty eyes,
say hello to the devil's lies.
You've gotta looks baby I could die,
You've gotta looks, you've gotta murder style!
You can't keep me waiting forever, baby, (your skin, perfect skin)
It's getting hot,
whos gonna rescue me?
Nothing in!
You've gotta perfect skin,
with the devil's grin.
Say hello to the pretty eyes,
say hello to perfect...
Shake your hands baby I could die,
Shake your hands, you've gotta neally style!
You can't keep me waiting forever, baby, (your skin, perfect skin)
It's getting hot,
whos gonna rescue me?
Nothing in!
You've gotta perfect skin,
with the devil's grin.
You've gotta perfect skin,
as I said.
solo
Jenna,
Paris,
Jessica,
Marilyn,
Jane,
Madonna,
You've gotta looks baby I could die,
You've gotta looks, you've gotta murder style!
You can't keep me waiting forever, baby, (your skin, perfect skin)
It's getting hot,
whos gonna rescue me?
It's O.K.,
that's all right now,
but I ain't gonna burn in flames,
let it go now,
let it go now!
You can't keep me waiting forever, baby, (your skin, perfect skin)
It's getting hot,
whos gonna rescue me?
You've gotta perfect skin,
You've gotta perfect skin,
with the devil's grin.
Perfect skin,
with the devil's grin.
Perfect skin.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
This song just screamed for me to write this. If you wish to see the video, it's on YouTube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEKtxK6QtNM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEKtxK6QtNM