“What do you want, lady?” He asked gruffly, hoping to scare her off. There obviously was something wrong when his growled question didn’t yield the right kind of end result. Instead of apologizing disturbance and leaving the girl quickly scanned her surroundings, then turned to look at him with somewhat panicky look on her face.
“Please, mister, you have to help me. I… I don’t know anywhere else to go,” she whispered with a shaky voice. He scratched the back of his neck, still making sure that his door stayed partially closed. The girl looked about ready to bolt straight in to his apartment, no matter if he wanted company or not.
“Well, what do you want?” He asked rather annoyed.
“I think somebody is watching me,” the girl whispered, her gaze darting back and forth between him and the grubby hallway she was standing in.
“And that’s my problem because…” He paused, waiting her to fill in the rest of the sentence. Girl’s eyes, forest green and swimming in a sea of fear, locked in to his.
“Please, mister… I don’t have anywhere to go and I’m really afraid to be alone. Help me.”
He huffed, then leaned slightly forward and took in their surroundings. There was nobody else except the girl in the dimly lit hallway. She looked about ready to die on the spot if he decided to slam the door on her face. And that big of a bastard he wasn’t just yet. He cracked the door more open and stepped aside.
“Well? Are you getting in?” He asked when she just stood there, her eyes seeking confirmation from his face. She scuttled in to his apartment fast and he closed the door, making sure to slam all the locks and secure the deadbolt. It didn’t take long, but he could feel her behind his back. He could practically hear her thoughts as they ticked by.
She was standing in the middle of what consisted as his apartment. It wasn’t much. One large room, one considerably smaller room and a miniscule bathroom. Interior decoration was Spartan. There was nothing out of place, nothing that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Furnishing was utilitarian, a worn couch that served as his bed. A small table and a chair in the corner, one cupboard where he kept his few clothes and small stack of disposable plates and utensils. Little stove near the cupboard. A black and white TV in the corner. Ugly, dark green and thick curtains drawn in front of the window, walls bare of any decorations. The door to the smaller room was currently closed and locked, but even in there the ruling element was strict order. Door to the bathroom was open and revealed a strip of the floor tiling. Tiles were old and some of them slightly cracked, but clean.
“Sit down,” he urged her, trying his best to convey at least some amount of hospitality. She took his words as a command and scuttled on to the sofa with a silent apology, sat on it and then proceeded to stare the tips of her toes. Her very bare toes. The fact that she was only dressed to a well-worn bathrobe hadn’t registered before but suddenly he became very aware of the lack of her clothing. So far he had never seen her neighbor in anything that didn’t resemble a full body cast. She was basically nude. Whatever it was that had scared her must have been serious.
“Coffee?” He asked. Again she flinched, then nodded, her eyes darting quickly to his before returning to stare at her lacquered toenails.
He busied himself with making the coffee, taking his time. Water came from the bathroom sink; he had no real kitchen to speak of. He didn’t need one. Small storage of absolute necessities he kept at the back of his cupboard carried ground coffee, sugar, salt and few cans of products that claimed to be preserved meat and vegetables. He cracked open the coffee jar. Usually he ate take-out. For a while he debated whether to make the coffee as he liked it, thick and strong, or should he ask her opinion over the matter. Then shrugged his shoulders and poured generous amount of grounds in to the filter. He could hear her whispering something.
“What was that?” He asked, clicking on the coffee maker and turned to look at her, his hands crossed over his chest, not knowing what to do with them now that the common ritual known as coffee making was over.
“Nothing… I… I like what you have done to the place,” the girl stuttered a bit louder. He couldn’t smell a lie on her. Well, it wasn’t really a surprise that he wasn’t the only freak with mean streak of order in this hellhole. Many days the only way to keep your head intact was to lock the door, close all the windows and just stay in.
“You didn’t come to ask my advice on interior decoration. What’s the matter, lady?” He asked when her comment seemed to be the extent of their conversation for the night. She shook her head.
“It’s going to sound stupid,” she whispered, then forced her gaze up, her eyes once again seeking his. He found her habit of staring people in the eyes quite unnerving, but he wasn’t going to be the one breaking the contact. He never backed down, and he wasn’t going to start doing it now.
“For the past month I have felt that somebody’s following me. Always. Everywhere I go. I can feel it. Like somebody’s staring at me, constantly.” Her voice was a mere whisper. He could tell from her tense posture that she had told this story before. Somebody had listened her and then rejected her fears.
“I… I work in a coffee shop, just two blocks away from here,” she started.
“Rudy’s, right?” He asked. He visited the place every now and then. The girl nodded.
“Tonight… I was closing up. The door was locked. Windows covered. I was closing up the cash register when I felt it. Somebody touched me. It… It wasn’t like a grab. It was more as if somebody would brush against you in a tight crowd.”
“And?”
“I was alone. There was nobody there. I managed to walk out from there and lock the door. Then I just run. I was thinking that if I run fast enough, perhaps nobody was watching me when I got back home…”
“But somebody was watching,” he grunted. She nodded.
“I was going to take a shower when I felt it again. Somebody pushed past me in the bathroom dropped my hairbrush and toothbrush from the sink on to the floor.”
“Really?”
He reached in to the cupboard for cups, mulling over her story. For long ago he had learned that even the most impossible sounding scenarios were perfectly possible, given the right circumstances. He was a mutant, for crying out loud, he hardly had the right or reason to start begrudging her story, no matter how weird it sounded. He actually had a nagging suspicion of what she was up against to.
“I told you it was stupid. Can I have some of that coffee before you kick me out? I kind of… Forgot to go shopping and I’m all out of coffee,” the girl asked and he shrugged out of his musings. Filled two styrofoam cups with liquid tar and handed one of them to her.
“I’m not kicking you out,” he started taking a sip from his coffee. The girl took a sip as well and grimaced slightly.
“Sorry. Forgot to go shopping, too. I’m out of milk,” he said. The girl looked pointedly around.
“You don’t have a refrigerator,” she said and bravely took some more coffee. They drank in silence.
“As I said, I’m not kicking you out. Yet. I think I know what’s going on,” he said, taking the fragile cups and stuffing them in to a small trash bin under the table. The girl looked at him expectantly.
“Have you smelt any weird scents lately?” He asked. The girl looked at him as if he suddenly sprouted another head on his shoulders.
“Weird scents?” She asked puzzled.
“Rotten eggs, burnt matches, gas. In a place where normally wouldn’t smell like that?”
“Umm… Now that you mentioned it… I noticed few weeks ago when I came home that something smelled rotten. I threw away eggs I had and got new ones. Then one day I smelt gas. I called to the janitor and he came and checked my stove. He didn’t find anything wrong with it.”
He froze.
“What the hell does Xavier want from you?” He asked.
“Xavier?” The girl asked confused.
“Charles Xavier. Mutant spokesperson, millionaire, philanthropist, head of Xavier’s Academy for Gifted Youngsters… This doesn’t ring any bells?” He asked. The girl shook her head.
“I haven’t even heard of him before… Wait!” Sudden realization fell over her features. She sat still and licked her lips nervously.
“He’s a mutant? This Xavier-guy?” She asked.
“Yes. Among many other things,” he said, waiting for the inevitable spiel of how the girl wouldn’t know anything about no-good, filthy muties. She surprised him.
“I’m… I’m a mutant, too,” she whispered, fiddling with the sash of her robe. He could smell it on her. Sudden pang of fear, escalating until he could practically taste it at the back of his throat.
“Well, that explains a lot…” He grunted and reached for the coffee. Took a cup and poured a refill. Then gulped it down quickly, trying to rinse away the foul taste of her panic.
“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered, finding her toes immensely interesting once more.
“What for?” he asked.
“For dragging you in to this. I should leave. Sorry for bothering you,” she said and stood up.
“Sit.” It came out harsher than he had intended. She plunked back down, narrowly avoiding sitting on to the floor in her haste.
“What’s your name, kid?” He asked. For a child she still was he realized.
“Rogue.”
“Bullshit.”
“What does it matter what my name is… Wolverine?” She asked, her eyes seeking his once more. He grasped the dog tag hanging on his chest and tucked it under the collar of his shirt.
“My name is Logan,” he said, not liking the way she phrased the other name. She had spat it on his face like it was the ultimate swear word. She paused at that, then took a deep breath.
“Marie. My name. It’s Marie.”
He extended his hand, expecting her to shake it. She just stared at it for a moment as if he was pointing her with a loaded gun instead, then hesitantly took grasped it. Leather of her gloves clashed strangely with her bathrobe but he didn’t question it. Instead he shook her hand.
“Welcome to the Unhappy families, vol.2, kid.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the extended version. Muties included,” he grunted wryly, not even sure if he was joking or not. The way the situation between Professor Xavier and his counterpart, Eric Lenscherr had been developing lately worried him greatly, as a matter of fact, the tensions between those men were the biggest reason he had chosen to live in the city rather than at Xavier’s boarding school.
“You’re a mutant, too?” The girl asked.
“Yeah.” He wasn’t willing to elaborate. She seemed to catch his reluctance.
“So… What happens now? You said that this… This Xavier is after me. Why?” She asked.
“I don’t know. But I could ask him.”
“You work for him?” The girl asked. Now it wasn’t just a pang of fear. Pure horror was radiating from her in waves, practically drowning him. He didn’t like the way it made him react. He was capable of instilling fear, often used it to his advantage, but never had another person’s emotions affected him this strongly. He struggled not to give in to the panic. Forced his racing heart to skip down a notch.
“I know him. I don’t work for him, at least not yet. You don’t have to be so fucking afraid, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he grunted annoyed. Basically she was accusing him of crimes he had never committed. His assurances didn’t alleviate her fear, but at least the deer in the headlights –pose she had chosen softened a bit.
“Look, I could call to Xavier and ask around. I don’t have to mention you specifically. I could just ask if he’s looking for somebody. At least that way we would know for sure if it’s Xavier who’s looking for you,” he tried to persuade her.
“Why would you do that? Why would you help me like that?” The girl asked.
“You asked me to help you. Do you want my help or not?” He asked rather frustrated. The way he saw it the girl had exactly two options. Either accept his help or get out of his apartment.
He closed the door and picked up his phone. The girl had left to get dressed. He had promised to wait until she came back before calling to Xavier. He dialed a number from his memory. Technically he wasn’t cheating. He wasn’t calling to Xavier.
“Ja?” The person at the other end of the line answered.
“Kurt? You working?” He asked.
“Yes,” the person answered.
“Take a break. My turn to step in.”
“Professor Xavier knows about this?” Heavy German accent made Kurt Wagner’s words sound commanding, no matter what he said, and Logan had to suppress a smile before answering.
“Professor knows exactly jack shit about this. But the kid is scared out of her wits. She knows about you.”
“I better step down, then. It isn’t Professor Xavier’s intention to make her uncomfortable. You take care of her now, ja?” Kurt asked.
“I’ll take care of her. As soon as she comes back to me I’m going to call to Xavier.”
“Don’t let her out of your sight. Magneto is after her,” Wagner warned him, then the line went dead.
Magneto. He should have known. Professor Xavier wasn’t the type of person to spy on little girls just for the sake of it. If Magneto was after her, this was serious. He resisted the urge to call to Xavier. What the hell was taking her so long? It shouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to thrown on some clothes.
He paced back and forth nervously, trying to decide if getting mixed up with her was a good idea. Originally he had lived at Xavier’s boarding school, but when the tensions between Xavier and Magneto had started to escalate he had moved out, not wanting to get in to the crossfire. Mutant war was coming. On the surface the war was nothing but a conflict between humans and mutants, but ultimately there were only two opposing sides. Xavier with his ideals of world peace and tolerance, and Eric Lenscherr, better known as Magneto, with his vision of mutant supremacy. Logan wasn’t willing to pick any side but his own.
Five minutes passed. He was about to go after her and reached for the doorknob when a heavy thud from the hallway alerted him. He wrenched the door open. The janitor walking past his door with a mop and a bucket glanced at him quizzically, but the old man had probably gotten used to all kinds of eccentrics since he didn’t so much as shrugged when a scream echoed from the apartment opposite Logan’s. Her apartment. She was already in trouble. He bolted to her door and shouldered it open, coming face to face with a hulking beast of a man.
“Nice to see you, runt!” Victor Creed, alias Sabretooth smirked, grasped the collar of his shirt and yanked him in to the apartment, kicking the door shut. The girl lay on the floor, unconscious. Small apartment was a mess, telling gruesome tale of the fight that had taken place there.
“What the hell just happened here?” Logan asked when Victor released him.
“The hell if I know! I only came to ask the lady politely to join me. She attacked first,” Victor smirked. It wasn’t until now that Logan noticed his rather frazzled state.
“Attacked? You got your ass kicked by a girl?” He asked.
“You know better than to mess with me, runt. Now, why don’t you take a hike and let me do my job…” Victor dismissed him, crouching next to the unconscious girl, obviously intending to grab her.
“Keep your paws off from her, Vic,” Logan growled, suddenly furious. He had an inkling of why Creed was so interested about the girl.
“Oh, I’m not going to touch her any more than it’s absolutely necessary. She’s fucking poison, runt! I want nothing to do with her. Sooner I get her to Magneto, the better…” Logan tried to grasp him, but Victor avoided him, then turned and rose from his crouched position, backhanding him in the process. Logan stood on his ground. They had gone through this drill before. He grasped the lapels of Victor’s jacket, forcing the slightly taller man to lean forward a bit, then swiftly kneed him to groin. Victor merely cringed and returned the favor, driving his knee in to Logan’s groin and gut with such force that it rendered him nearly unconscious. He could only hang feebly from Victor’s jacket, gasping for breath.
“When are you going to learn, runt? You haven’t got what it takes to stop me…” Creed chuckled, shoving him on the floor and reaching for the girl once more.
“Wanna bet on that?” Logan managed to gasp. He sprung his claws and swiped blindly, almost grinning when he felt them sliding cleanly trough bone and muscle. Sabretooth swore profusely and fell with a heavy thud, holding his injured feet. Logan rolled over and dragged his protesting body forward until he laid half on Victor’s chest, their noses touching.
“I should scramble your fucking brain, but I’m not sure if there’s nothing to scramble… This will have to do,” he hissed and opened Creed’s ribcage with one swift move. It wouldn’t kill Victor, but it would keep him down long enough.
“Come on, kid. Time to skip this party…” He grunted and grasped her, hoisting her limp form on his arms.
Quick detour in his apartment to pick up the keys to his truck didn’t sound so appealing but he really had no choice. He laid the girl on to the couch carefully and threw on his jacket, then, after short consideration he opened the locked door of the smaller room and picked up his toolbox. He probably would need it before this day was over.
That all had happened five years ago. Now, as he watched the sleeping girl on his bed he couldn’t help to wonder what had made her to seek out help from him. From out of all the people in their former home he must have been the last possible option, the last straw before she would have tried her luck with the police.
“Logan?” Her eyes opened in the darkness and he could hear her shifting a bit.
“It’s me, kid,” he identified himself.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to hog your bed…” She quickly apologized.
“Stay. I went past your room. It’s so fucking crowded that you couldn’t fit a fucking midget in there,” he grunted and stripped of his jacket.
“Oh… Okay,” and with that she fell back in to sleep. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, unstrapping numerous holsters from around his arms, legs and torso, pushing the armory he had effectively been carting around for the past day under his bed. Cracked his neck and stood up, trying to decide would the shower be worth the hassle. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. Five in the morning. Xavier & Co. wouldn’t need him before ten o’clock. He could take a shower and sleep few hours.
He stood under the spray of hot water, simply enjoying the feel of it cascading over his skin. Past weeks had been rough, both physically and emotionally. Assassination attempt against Professor Xavier had been a near success, a fact that still managed to piss him off. He should have been more careful that day. But it was all supposed to be over. The fucking war was over and everything was so peachy and lovey-dovey that it made him want to puke. Yet somebody had tried to kill professor, and they would have probably succeeded with it if it wasn’t for Kurt Wagner. Blessed Nightcrawler who had managed to transport professor to safety with a cost of bullet meant for professor lodging deep in to his shoulder. On top of that the school had gotten a reputation of being haven of sorts for mutants back in the days of war, and even now people were lining up in front of massive iron gates of the driveway, wanting to get in, pleading sanctuary, and they really had no way to turn them down. Formerly spacious mansion reminded Logan now more of a concentration camp than anything else, every room stacked to the brim with mutants of all ages and sizes. He was in the possession of his own room for one simple reason. Nobody wanted to share a closed space with him, a fact that Marie used for her advantage shamelessly.
He eyed the row of soaps and shampoos adorning the small shower cubicle, then grabbed one after checking that it wasn’t something overly scented. He really didn’t mind Marie moving in. The crush she had nursed during the first year they had known each other had faded to giving room for strong friendly bond to form between them. After Marie had taken the cure they had tried a deeper relationship, but clumsy attempts of making love had been awkward at best, so they had decided to forget the whole deal. They both had occasional flings on the side to satisfy the need of sex; warmth and closeness they got by sharing a bed every now and then on a purely platonic level.
When he emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, Marie sat up and patted the bed.
“Sit.” He complied. She took the towel from him and started to dry him off.
“I was worried,” she whispered, draping the towel over his shoulders and leaning her forehead against his back.
“Why? I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself,” he grunted and stretched on to the bed, pulling her with him.
“Doesn’t matter. I worry. I don’t want you to get hurt.” For that he had nothing to say. He had long ago learned not to joke about his mutation and how it gave him an advantage in every possible situation. Marie didn’t like when he did that.
The girl snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arms around him and throwing her leg over his abdomen, curling around him like a living blanket. He preferred things the other way around, usually he was her blanket, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was too tired to do that. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to relax. It wasn’t working too well. Marie’s hand was rubbing his stomach and chest with soothing motion, but for some reason that combined with her warm breath tickling his earlobe wasn’t as calming him like it usually did. He shifted slightly. Move brought Marie’s thigh in contact with his groin, causing him to gasp and buck his hips involuntarily. Marie’s hand on his chest froze. Then her leg moved, her thigh dragging over his boxer clad groin once more. He shivered and closed his eyes.
“Jesus, kid…”
“Don’t even try to lie that you didn’t like that,” Marie whispered. He could hear from her voice that she was smiling. He bucked against her thigh again, more forcefully this time, and let out a groan when she moved out of his reach.
“Get back here.”
“I’m coming, as soon as I get these clothes off,” Marie muttered, her face covered in to her shirt she was tugging over her head. He followed suit, getting rid of his boxers and the T-shirt he had slid on out of a habit.
He lay on his back and Marie straddled him, grinding her already moist cleft over his cock. He grasped her buttocks and thrust against her, feel of her slippery warmth against his aching cock driving him on the verge of orgasm.
“Easy, big guy,” Marie whispered, leaning in to kiss him, her lips dancing over his with a touch lighter than a feather. He brought his palms to frame her face and deepened the kiss, suckling her tongue, massaging it with his own, until they were both flushed and out of breath, their hips still grinding and gyrating.
He refused to speculate about the outcome of this. He refused to waist any precious second of this to something as menial as to thinking. Earlier, back when they still had been planning a life together, sex had always felt somehow wrong, clumsy and forced. This felt only natural. He shifted his hands, grasping and caressing the girl riding on him until he couldn’t take it anymore, and with a swift move turned them over, trapping Marie underneath him, her thighs accommodating his hips almost frighteningly easily, as if they had done this thousands of times before.
He kept teasing her clit with the head of his cock, bumping against her ever so lightly, thoroughly enjoying keen noises his actions forced out of her. Her hands were sliding over his skin, first lightly, then with more force as she grasped his buttocks and wrapped her legs around him, and he felt his cock sliding in, all the way in to her wet heat.
He was in as deep as he could get, his hips moving only slightly, grinding against her, keeping constant pressure against her clit. She was moaning and trashing her head back and forth, her hands clutching his shoulders and her nails leaving clear imprints on his skin. He kissed her sweat slicked throat, licking his way lower, bending his back until her could reach her left nipple and suckled it. Marie arched her back, granting him a better access, her legs wrapping even tighter around him and her core grasping his cock hungrily. She was coming, her whole body strung to tight arch, every muscle coiled from the force of sensations coursing through her. He kept pushing in to her with slow pace, trying to draw it out, to prolong it for her.
She was slowly coming down from her stupor, her half hooded eyes taking in his features, her core still convulsing around his cock. He didn’t want this to end. If he allowed himself to let go, this would end, so he bit his lip and stayed still, warding off the impending release, moving only when he was sure that he could go on without triggering his own orgasm. He wasn’t going to let go. Not yet. No matter how good it would feel, No matter how tired he was and no matter how hotly the fire at the pit of his stomach burnt… He wasn’t going to give up.
Suddenly Marie moved, tilted her hips and completely other kind of tightness grasped him. She held his hips, urging him to slower his pace.
“I have always wanted to know how this would feel…” She hissed trough clenched teeth. At first he was at loss, then suddenly realized what the sudden tightening around his cock meant. Adjusting their position a bit, turning them around so that they lay on the bed spooning each other he started long and slow strokes, stopping whenever Marie’s hand on his hip tensed.
“Nobody’s fucked you in the ass before?” He asked, licking her earlobe and rubbing her stomach, his hand sliding lower until he found her clit. Her moan and curl of her back gave him the answer he needed.
“Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong…” He whispered, then wrapped her tightly in his embrace, rocking in to her carefully, his cock now weeping from joy, slickening the tight passage around it.
The thought of taking her like this had crossed his mind before, but just fleetingly. Now, as she was squirming and mewling, grinding her buttocks against him in her haste to get him deeper, he almost regretted his inability to approach the issue sooner. He kept rubbing her clit with his thumb, fingering her core gently, just enjoying the feel of her ass around his cock. The earlier urgent need to come had passed, giving way to a state he could only think of as a constant orgasm, small, steady trickle that was uncurling from the base of his spine, spreading warmth as it crept in his veins. Marie’s nails digging in to his forearms only heightened the sensation.
Marie’s whispering pierced through the orgasmic haze, her pleading words forcing him to listen.
“Come, Logan, please, come…”
“Am I hurting you?” He asked, forcing his hips to stay still. Marie groaned from disappointment, bucking against him, urging him to continue.
“Not hurting… But I want you to come… I don’t know how… How much longer I can take this… I want to come…”
He started moving again, licking her neck, biting in to her skin lightly. She was now almost crying, rubbing against his cock and hand with feverish pace, seeking her release. With one, last firm stroke he could feel the familiar swelling sensation, feeling a surge of absurd pride, knowing that she would carry his seed and scent for the coming day. Marie tensed in his embrace, breath escaping with a loud gasp, and she was coming, falling in to pieces, her ass milking his cock and her nails opening bleeding furrows in to his skin.