It had been a long day; the night proved to be even more so. After having dreams she'd rather forget she'd gone to get a glass of water.. and had stopped long enough to eat a little ice cream while she was at it. She had been on her way back to her room in the hopes she'd have better luck.
She was ambushed and instantly jolted form her half-conscious state as either shoulder blade found comfort in polished wood. Her hands were taken out of commission too easily for it to be just anyone, because she was one of the top ten in unarmed combat at the school. The Professor always said to those that especially didn't their loss to her that it was mostly because of her memories from Logan. She'd hoped that gave merit to imitation being the best form of flattery.
She bit her bottom lip from fear and excitement and the fact that because they picked the current-darkest hallway in the mansion she couldn't see their face. Leather kept both hands above her and their scent didn't give away any clues anymore than their body heat did, which was saying something. Her eyes were open and probably a little buggy and the rest of her senses were on overdrive because she wanted to know, and it started to become apparent that that was exactly what he wanted of her.
She didn't hear flesh being cut but she knew they had a blade when they cut her nightgown; the lack of underwear was personal liberation after hours, and she was proud of the fact even in her current situation. Her only clothing fell to the floor but she'd felt naked from the start of it all. For seconds he did nothing but stare for all she knew, and she did nothing but release her lip and breather heavier. If she knew of something to say she might have, but he turned her around like she was a rag doll, all 115 pounds of her, less than six percent of which were from fat. The seconds of further silence that dragged on immediately after she hoped were because he saw that clearest in the dark.
For her chest the wood wasn't quite so cold but it was enough so that she quivered, which made her hands held tighter and her breathing deeper. Innocent skin felt the heat of his breath and she bit her lip and closed her eyes because she couldn't see and she didn't want to make the mansion a new sun roof if she was wrong. Cloth was placed on her neck--silk, silk and sexuality and teeth all put upon her neck and she bit her tongue not to scream as he teased her, biting the sensitive skin in a slow progression of pleasureful pain. Kisses followed to give what she'd guess was an insincere apology to the marks that she hoped to god would last at least until she could see them in the mirror, and the only thing she knew to do was tilt her head for him.
She didn't know how he knew her favorite material but she bit her bottom lip again when she felt his entire body through it from behind, almost all silk and more than a little latex which seemed entirely too ready, even with everything as it was. She was beginning to feel like the prey to a very methodical predator, which she wouldn't have minded so much if she knew only one. But over the years when one was gone the other was teaching her; letting her go on missions and taking her to bars and giving her birthday gifts in person.
How he managed to tie the cloth around her neck with one hand, she didn't know, but that his hands were truly gifted was something she'd never forget. The introduction of leather to untouched flesh was enough to make her scream if she hadn't bit her tongue again but the second bite to her neck which was added to the lower sensations made her give up the first moan of many, and through the silk she could feel the satisfaction change the touch of follow-up kisses. If she had the capacity to talk then she would've told him how she was ready before it even began, but since she couldn't seem to talk, she followed his lead like the overeager victim she was.
He could've made her melt, if he so chose; the way he caressed her made her wish she could scream out like she wanted to, to react in ways she currently couldn't. Either she was doing more to show it than she thought or he was incredibly aware of the situation, she didn't know nor care because he stopped teasing her and finally pressed himself against her. She felt him; his presence against her excited flesh and his heat, and she moved to try to take him in but she could only do so much in her current position. The rest he took care of himself, and she was forced to flatten her chest against the wood to the point of pain to be able to breathe with all of her excitement.
The initial caution was quickly becoming forgotten, and with its loss, he began to start a series of sensations that were entirely too much to keep quiet. She continually alternated between tongue and bottom lip to bite down on while panting, keeping the insatiable itch to scream and moan in response to the sensations as much of a little-known fact to the many sleeping residents around them as she could, because the only thing that'd be worse than it continuing would be for it all to stop. Her hands seemed less and less of a priority to be held so she was able to at least press them flat against the wall for some kind of support to better react and encourage him, silently pleading for more, for him to take her faster, harder, to claim her better.
It was a lifetime and it was a culmination that seemed to surface entirely too soon; she was naked, sweaty and sore but she didn't care, she just wanted him to keep going, because for a reason she didn't care to comprehend it all seemed secondary to the possession that was taking place. The fire he started exploded then--her flattened hands curled and her nails tore at the perfectly-made wooden wall, her chest was painfully compressed against the wall and her insides seemed to tighten until they shattered, leaving her tongue bloody for the sake of silence. He had to have known she'd reached the edge but he kept going anyway, grabbing her right hip and squeezing well beyond bruising as he found his own ignition.
She didn't want him to leave but he did anyway, releasing her hands and removing the scarf and moving without making any sound that see could hear, going to a place she couldn't see because she was still reeling from the experience, barely able to keep standing, leaning on the wall for support. As soon as she was able she grabbed the pieces of her nightgown and crept back quietly to her room, because even as quiet as they were she didn't doubt someone knew something happened, and she'd be damned if she let anyone know it ever occurred.
Closing the door and leaving her nightgown on the floor after a hesitation to throw it away, she laid down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out which predator just took her as their prey before going back to sleep to recount the experience in her dreams.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
Got personal reasons for writing it, but I decided I'd let others enjoy if they are so inclined. As before, comments and criticism is welcomed and wanted; flames are not, particularly. I know it's rough--I write these things without doing much beyond spell check. There are things here or there that could be touched up on, but in a way I almost prefer them the way they are.