Staring at Logan as he methodically, mercilessly slaughtered his wheelchair Charles barely thought of Rogue, she wasn’t a trained killer like Logan and therefore not as much a threat.
Struggling to contain the images in his mind, Charles could feel the sweat pouring down his body. The agony that radiated from his groin, from his hands, his joints intensified as he shifted on the bed, hoping to alleviate the pain.
The thick was of silk in his mouth stopped him from screaming, muffling his cries even as he swirled in a mass of pain, loathing, and darkness. Even the effects of the drugs Rogue’d been pumped full of were within his mind, making him feel like he was contained, caged by his own emotions.
“Poor little Chuckie, doesn’t like our game,” Rogue cooed running a finger down his temple and laughing as he jerked away from her. Rising from the mattress she padded over to where Logan was standing panting from the destruction of the only mode of transport Charles had available.
Stopping in front of him she lifted the pale, translucent silk from around her throat to cover her mouth and nose. Moving into him, against him she purposely brushed her breasts against his chest, her hand skating over his chiseled chest and down to cup his groin even as she glanced sideways at Charles who hadn’t moved from where he’d been imprisoned by his handicap.
“Now?” Logan ground out his breathing hard, fast, his body already on fire for the woman before him.
“Yeah, make him watch,” Rogue whispered, “Make him see what he tossed aside. What his actions made.”
Snarling at her words Logan pulled her against him, his hands hard on her ass as he ground into her, rubbing his erection against her. Hearing her moan and seeing her head fall back, Logan felt the Wolverine taking even more control from him and relished it.
Tonight wasn’t about niceties; it was about possession, about claiming and he knew Rogue was swimming in her own desire. A quick precise movement of his claws and the crotch of her jeans were gone. Turning her around to face the man lying on the bed, he grimaced as his hands raced over her body, squeezing her breasts, wringing a pained moan from her as he did.
A quick move from Rogue and she was bent over the end of the bed, her hair dusting the duvet as she bit her lip, her eyes locked on Charles’ as she felt Logan move behind her, felt him slowly sink into her body.
Moaning softly Rogue thrust back toward him even as she grabbed handfuls of the silk on the bed, “Please Logan, give it to me. Give me everything!”
Desperate to block the images from his mind Charles closed his eyes only to find Rogue projecting so powerfully that he couldn’t escape there. Awash with the desire, the trust within her for the man taking her hard enough to shake the bed Charles wished desperately that he wasn’t alone, that he had some means of escape.
The sharp guttural cry from Logan’s lips had his eyes jerking to where the other man stood panting, his hands racing over Rogue’s body, his grip tight, his claws fully extended.
Jumping in shock when Rogue cried out and a matching set of claws slid free of her flesh Charles realized just what Jean had meant when she’d said Scott had described Frankenstein as a living creature.
Pushing her hair back from her face Rogue smirked at Charles and straightened up to kiss Logan passionately, openly much like she were in a cheap porn flick.
“Hope you have a few nights of really bad dreams old man,” she whispered and adjusted her clothes so her cloak covered her torn clothes.
A few seconds later, alone in his room Charles closed his eyes and let the tears fall. Logan and his team had entered into his home, into his refuge and taken command. They’d done what many had tried, what many wanted to do and with such precision, such skill that no one else in the mansion was awakened. Wanting to curl up and hide Charles rolled over, pulling his legs up to his chest to lay there panting and crying as the pain only increased within his body.
Tapping Jubilee on the shoulder Tank nodded at the door and stepped back, leaving the doctor soaking her sheets in blood, her face battered, bruised, but she’d survive. There was more life within her body then there had been in Jubilee’s when he’d rescued her and now she’d know just what they were dealing with.
Stepping out into the hallway Tank glanced around and shook his head at the small streak of light from a door down the hall. Trotting down to it he turned the knob slowly, sliding the door open soundlessly, a tranq gun in his hand as he peered inside.
Standing impatiently in the center of the room was a familiar woman dressed in a man’s t-shirt, her uniform jeans, and a pair of combat boots, “Psst, we’ve got to go!” he called.
“We’re coming,” Kitty replied and turned back to watch Scott toss a shirt over his bare chest. Fresh scratches marred the tanned skin, along with a few odd bruises but she knew she had her own share to cover on her body.
“Lets go,” Scott glanced around uneasily, before following Kitty out into the hallway and being flanked by the largest man he’d seen since Sabertooth.
Getting out was just as easy as getting in and when he was secured in the van Scott glanced up into the rearview mirror at Logan’s gaze. The usual tension, the rigid look that often graced his face was gone. There was a slackening, an easing of the muscles around his mouth and eyes and Scott wondered idly who’d he’d fucked at the mansion.
Glancing over at Rogue as she shifted on the seat and grabbed a bag, he noted she was taking her jeans off and putting on fresh ones, the crotch ripped out of the old pair!
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