I know it's a dream – no not that … it's a nightmare and the same one
I've dreamt so many times before. How many times? A hundred? A
thousand? Know it's a lot more, and my mind reels at the very thought
of the countless times even as I'm reliving it. I cannot get out, I'm
stuck and I'm cold and I'm wet and I cannot fuckin' breathe again.
Can't reach the surface, the air and where's the way out of this
hellhole? All I see are green and yellow and black flecks in front of
me, clouding my vision drowning me holding me down and the unspeakable
pain – it's there again. And again I know it's nothing but a dream, a
sick memory from the back of my mind coming to torture me again and
again and again and I reach out and I try to breathe and scream and
fight and scratch and kill the thing that's out there. I want to kill
them. I need to kill them. Through the cold heavy fog my hands touch
something and I grab whatever it is and tighten my grip as much as I
can because I have to wake up. Wake up, I need need need and I fuckin'
need to wake up or this is the last time I can bear to go through that
awful memory again. Wake up. Wake. Up.
Cinnamon eyes and icy white streaks. What the fuck is she doing here?
She's staring at me, eyes wider than anything I've ever seen but
there's no fear in them. There should be. I'm lying on top of her,
with both her wrists in a bone crushing grip that must be painful.
Without thinking I unsheathe the claws and reach down between us to
shred her tank top. She doesn't say anything, doesn't even flinch, but
I have to be sure.
There are no marks on that belly, only what has to be silky smooth
skin. Pale white skin. From the corner of my eyes I can see the lower
part of a softly mounded breast, and I feel sick at what've just done
to her.
I don't know what to say, and she doesn't seem to expect me to talk
either. What are you doing here kid?
Rogue?
Marie …
Her chest is heaving slowly even though she's trying not to breathe. I
entwine my bare fingers with her glove clad ones. It's safe, but are
you safe? Am I safe enough? What am I doing looking into those wide
cinnamon eyes framed by two shock white reminders from Liberty Island.
How many minutes have passed? I don't know and suddenly I don't have
to ask her why the hell she decided to come to my gazebo. Why the hell
she had to risk her life again by pulling me out of that nightmare. I
don't have to ask her that, because I already know.
When that morphing bitch came to see me earlier … if I had known she
was going to seek out the kid disguised as me, and for all the same
reasons she had asked that question while on top of me. Now I know.
Let her go. Let her go back to her tent and go to sleep.
But I can't, not when she's underneath. Not while I'm lying here, not
when she's got her legs wrapped around me. Not when she's so close,
only half an inch away from me. I know this is what she's always
wanted and still I know the shock and disbelief must show on my face.
This cannot be. You can't have her and she can't have you. She knows,
has to know I can sense her desire, burning, but like a caged animal
she doesn't let it out. Rosy cheeks and half parted wet lips, it's too
much to handle. It draws out the hurt and slams it right back in and I
have to catch my breath. I want her so much I can't breathe, it's like
that nightmare but for real and I know I have to resist. I'm not
allowed to touch her, it cannot be. But there's no other way, no other
way out of this than to let her go back to her world.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
another one that used to be in the old wrfa. tent scenes have been done a gazillion times already, but like my friend Skybluerae said 'People keep doing it for a reason'.
no beta, no worries.
no beta, no worries.