After two weeks the private training sessions with the Rogue seemed to be working, she was chilling the attitude a bit, seemed less inclined to fight with her classmates, and had even start behaving herself in Logan’s class and quit mouthing off to him in front of other people. Hell, at one point she even volunteered to stick around and put away the equipment.
He didn’t buy it. He couldn’t sense a lie on her, but something about that chick smelled downright suspicious. While she snarked and threw mini temper tantrums during her 6am sessions often, she also paid attention to what he was teaching her and adapted it to her own fighting style. A style that was, Logan noted, basically ferocious and dirty. Despite his superior training and experience, she’d managed to surprise him a couple of times. Never again with a head-butt, he’d been looking out for those but she didn’t seem inclined to try it again. Probably grateful he hadn’t skewered her through the brain-pan for the last time.
They were grappling on the exercise mat, Logan in the superior position, which involved putting the Rogue in a modified full nelson and kicking her knees out from under her so her face was ground into the mat.
“C’mon kid, you can break this,” he snarled in her ear. “Use your brain.” She fruitlessly tried to wind one of her legs around his, but she didn’t have the right position to twist him off. “Nah-ah darlin’” he taunted into her shoulder, “No leverage.” He twisted her arms harder, and she notched up from aggravated to pissed off.
“You motherf-“ she screeched.
He twisted again and barked, “Language goddamnit!” in his best teacher voice.
Fed up, the Rogue writhed until she got her knees under herself and with a scream she pushed up from the floor, dragging Logan’s heavy body with her until she was standing. He tried to force her back down, but she instead kicked both her legs up into the wall in front of her and pushed as hard as she could, toppling them both backwards. As they fell, with Logan on the bottom, she managed to get one arm free and used it to drive several ferocious elbows into the side of his torso where no adamantium protected his kidneys.
“Oof!” was all he managed to grunt before Rogue got him in a necklock and pressed her forearms down hard on his carotid artery, trying to choke him out. Logan grinned, then tapped out on her leg, and she let him go.
“Nice job, kid,” he said, standing up and offering one gloved hand down to her to help her off the floor. She batted it away with a scowl and clambered up on her own, wincing.
“You didn’t have to try to rip my arms off, y’know!” she spat, rubbing her left shoulder and trying to rotate the arm.
“If you got out of the hold sooner I wouldn’t have had a chance to,” he countered. “When you fight the other guy ain’t gonna take it easy on you like I am, so quit yer bitchin’.” He grabbed a towel and slung it around his neck, wiping off his face. Damn uniforms. All that money and Chuck couldn’t figure out how to buy wicking fabric. Damn thing was sticking to him, sweaty and clammy at the same time.
“Taking it easy on me? Thanks so much!” she drawled, dripping with sarcasm as she unzipped the front of her uniform and eased out her left arm, prodding it with hesitant fingers.
“Aw, shit, ow,” she muttered.
Logan looked over the bottom of his raised water bottle, just managing to keep one eyebrow from shooting right up his forehead at the Rogue’s black sports bra. She didn’t hardly have tits enough to need the damn thing, a medium B-cup, if that, because she was slender as a vine. She turned to inspect her shoulder more closely and Logan’s eyes narrowed to the ripple of muscle tracing down her side, following the contour over ribs, then abs, to end at her uniform bottom and the sharp angle of her hip. She’s got some nice definition he noted, along with a mental reminder to himself to have her work more on her lateral abdominals so she could better take a punch there.
“Why don’t you take a picture?” Logan’s eyes’ snapped up to the Rogue’s amused kohl-outlined ones. “Up here,” and she pointed to her face.
“Whatever kid, you need to eat more, you’re too skinny,” he snorted.
“Oh screw you…and quit calling me kid,” she huffed, still prodding at her shoulder and trying to roll it.
“Well, if you didn’t act like one maybe I wouldn’t,” he growled, then reached out a gloved hand for her shoulder and squeezed it, inspecting for tendon or ligament damage.
She hissed as he prodded, “You’re a sadist, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, “Sometimes.” He noticed the bruise forming on her shoulder blade and an abrasion that looked like mat burn on her side.
She marks easily a voice in the back of his head growled.
Running his hand down her bicep and triceps to look for further injury he noticed the flat hard planes of her muscles. The salty tang of her sweat met his nose and something started at the base of his spine.
Her sarcastic voice interrupted his observations. “Are you finished, pervert?”
Logan mentally shook himself. “You’ve got a good strain to the rotator cuff. “ He took his glove off and reached down, only to have her jump back.
“Are you fucking nuts?!” she shouted, holding her shoulder like he’s just tried to burn her.
“Kid, it’s either you take a bit of healing or you get to ice and not use it for a few days.” He shrugged again. “Besides, I’m a bit of a masochist, too” and he smirked at her and snaked his hand out again.
“Well, I ain’t a sadist so hands off!” She scowled as she jammed her arm back into her uniform sleeve with a grimace. He grinned again and tried to grab her and make her take a bit so she’d just shut up and be over it and ready to fight again tomorrow morning. He liked fighting with her; she was fucking feisty and meaner than a snake when he got her riled up. It was fun.
She slapped his hand away again and snapped, “Like I want you running around in my damn head!”
He paused, he hadn’t really thought about that part of her mutation. “Hmm…sorry, kid. Forgot about that part.”
“Well, isn’t that nice you can forget,” she sneered. “I can’t.” And she stomped away to the locker room. He distinctly heard her mutter. “Asshole” before she slammed the door behind her. It made him laugh.
Since she wasn’t up for sparring for the few days, the Rogue hoped she’d be let off her ungodly early training sessions but no such luck. In addition to the homework he gave her on Danger Room simulation design to test her ability to think of creative combat scenarios, which kept her up late, Logan apparently didn’t believe in sick leave or days off.
At 6:02 am the next morning he was banging through the door to her private room and yanking her covers off.
“Rise and shine, sweetcheeks!” he boomed in a loud voice that had her groaning and burrowing her head further into her pillow. A muffled “fuck you” emerged just before Logan grabbed her mattress and with a huge heave lifted it up at an angle and dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor.
“No sparring today with that shoulder, gonna work on conditioning. Who’s up for a 5 mile run?” he taunted and grinned down at her sleepy yet furious face. The Rogue was seriously tempted to rip off her elbow length opera-gloves and drain him until he was nothing but a hairy husk. Deciding she could save the draining until she got him away from the mansion and potential witnesses she stomped to the bathroom to change, entertaining Logan with creative combinations of profanity that burned his ears even through the door.
After the run, during which the Rogue has unsuccessfully tried to shove Logan into a stream, he had her doing high jumps and crunches on the lawn, counting them off like a drill instructor.
“I hate you,” she panted as she came up one more time and he told her to do it over b/c she hadn’t kept proper position. “I hate you,” she repeated, this time through her teeth.
“Yeh, yeh, get in line,” he said airily. She was right, he was a sadist because he was definitely enjoying watching her get all pissed off, cursing his name, and questioning his already dubious parentage.
It made him grin with all his teeth showing, like a wolf. She cursed him again at that grin and kept with her crunches.
He honestly could not remember anyone ever calling him a cocksucker and not walking away with their insides on their outsides. Her insults made him feel slightly only less homicidal than usual when challenged, but he got an immense kick out of using his teacher authority over her, making her do what he wanted so it settled him a bit.
Her ass was his and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Even Chuck left Wolverine to his own devices in handling Rogue's discipline. She could have gone ahead and begged for jet duty, it was an option, but she was just as stubborn as he was and as much as she called him a son of a whore, he could tell she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching her break.
Wolverine was definitely enjoying the battle of wills. Sure, he’d win in the end, he always did, but the pursuit of victory was enjoyable.
She stumbled on jelly legs up the stairs to shower before classes, which made him chuckle. With a glare the Rogue did something only a teenager would do and stuck her tongue out at him and said wearily, “Eat shit and die.” He reminded her he wanted her newest DR sim program on his desk by Monday, to which he got only the floating sound of a raspberry as she turned the corner.
For the next 2 days Logan ran the Rogue into the ground to the point where she didn’t have the strength to threaten to castrate him with hedge clippers or even give him the finger. The less she swore the more focused she became during their runs, apparently in a zone she’d hadn’t before achieved, what with wasting all her energy flapping her lips.
They ran in almost-companionable silence through the woods, often going off-trail, rock hopping and scrambling to make use of the varied terrain around the Institute. The Wolverine enjoyed it, the smell of raw earth, dusky moss and pine needles, the sound of rhythmic breathing and pounding feet mile after mile. It hypnotized the beast within, content to just run on and on. Occasionally the scent of her salty sweat drew him to run behind her, admiring the view in the spandex pants or the way her hair curled out of the ponytail into ringlets on the back of her neck. Sometime he ran in front and to took the lead and blazed the trail to test if she could follow. She did so in silence, as focused on the pattern of rise and fall and breathing as he was.
After they flopped on the lawn near the greenhouses after the last run, she drained her water bottle and said, “How long do you I have to do this?” Her emerald lined eyes were a bit bright with adrenalin.
He raised an eyebrow. “Specifics darlin,” he grunted.
“This ass crack of dawn training then? I want to sleep in,” she groused.
“Long as I say you do…or at least you’re conditioned and trained enough for a mission.”
“And how long will that be?” She scrubbed one cotton covered forearm against her forehead, swiping sweat away.
“Till I say so,” he grunted.
“Shit, you’re worse than prison guard! I just want a day off for christ’s sake!”
“Ok, ok, don’t get you panties in a bunch,” he said holding up his hand to her furious face.
“Quit thinking about my panties.” Ok, maybe she did have enough energy to backtalk.
“Whatever, kid. You can sleep in on Sunday. I gotta do something Saturday night anyways and probably won’t be back ‘til morning.” He’d finally found a cage fight 3 counties over and was itching for some knuckle dusting.
“And what’s something’s name?” The Rogue grinned bitchily at him.
He snarled, “Jack Daniels. Now get the fuck out of here before I give you 10 more laps, kid,” and he waved his hand dismissively at her.
She got up and he leisurely watched the swing and sway of her hips, then she looked down and said irritably, “Don’t call me kid, old man.” She kicked him once roughly in the shin then jogged back to the mansion. He grinned as he absent-mindedly rubbed his leg.
The Rogue seemed to settle down a bit at the prospect of a day off this weekend and seemed content to take her lumps with as little bitching as possible for the next couple of days. Twice he’d found her in the DR control room late at night when he’d been restless and needed a tussle before sleep. She’d showed him two background holo-environments she’d been working on, a deserted warehouse with various obstacles and a post-apocalyptic street scene with burning cars. He was especially impressed with her mock-ups of enemies, including some interesting looking mutants he hadn’t seen before. Her most amusing coding was of the Brotherhood that did a pretty neat job of mimicking their powers, especially Quicksilver’s acceleration and blurred appearance when at speed and Avalanche's seismic rumbles. He left her to her work with a somewhat complimentary, “Doesn’t suck so far,” and went for a run instead, contemplating the softening of the Rogue's sharp edges and prickly defiance.
Seemed he’d finally found a program to whip her stubborn ass into shape, with just the occasional reward for less-then-evil behavior. He knew he'd set her straight, even if it meant taking a little too much pleasure in her frustration.
Come Saturday night, the Rogue was positively chipper as she pranced through the rec room with popcorn, holding a slasher DVD, knowing she didn’t have to be up before the sun. Chuck and Storm were in DC at a conference on mutant relations, leaving Scott and Jean in charge of the students. Logan looked around the rec room, satisfied that the wunderkidz in charge would make sure the students had a boring night. He bid them goodnight and hit the bricks, anxious to get to pummeling without the rules that bound him night and day at the Institute.
At the sound of his bike fading away, the Rogue knocked her popcorn bowl to the floor and got up. Scott called after her to clean it up, to which she yelled, “Make me, One-Eye!” as she ran upstairs. Jean sighed and telekinetically started picking up.
***********************************************************************************
The Wolverine was highly aggravated, the fights had not at all been up to his expectations and passed way too fast. They ran out of suckers foolish enough to step into the cage with him early on, even though he let a few guys pound on him for a bit to make it look good. But even his poor theatrics couldn’t bolster the wilting nerve of the pansies in the bar. Even consoling himself with a fifth of whiskey didn’t take the edge off his sour mood. One rather good-looking blonde barfly had sidled up to him and put a brazen hand on his groin. He’d briefly contemplated fucking her in a bathroom stall, but then decided he was in the mood for a brunette and brushed her off. No dice on decent brown hairs, so he took off, settling for another unfulfilling session in the DR.
He didn’t bother to put on his fighting togs and went straight to the DR. Just as he raised his hand to the scanner for entrance he paused. Someone was in there and apparently running a massive program based on the noise leaking through the heavy metal door. He put his hand against it and could positively feel the vibrations of a louder than life sim pounding on the other side. While it was usually considered bad manners at the Institute to interrupt a running sim, the Wolverine thought it sounded like something he wanted to join. He barked an override code at panel, activating voice control. Granted access, the door slid open and he was almost blasted back off his feet by a wall of sound that poured into the hall.
Holy shit, how many students do we have? His eyes goggled at the sheer volume of people crammed into the Dr, all writhing and thrashing against each other. He looked past the press of bodies and saw the warehouse sim the Rogue had designed was the environment. What he’d previously througt were obstacles and weapons when she’d shown it to him earlier were in face a disguised set up for an obscenely large sound and lighting system. Strobes flashed in time with thundering bass and lasers pieced the room, punctuating each scream from the speakers.
There is no god up in the sky tonight
No sign of heaven anywhere in sight
No sign of Jean or Scott, that he could tell. Probably tied up and gagged, no other way the student could've gotten away with this otherwise. There were seemingly a hundred people crammed into the space, thrusting in time to the cacophony, sweating and grinding against each other, a lot of students and -
Shit is that Avalanche from the Brotherhood grinding against Kitty’s back?
It was. Quicksilver was here too and he wasn’t a sim, he was sweating too hard. He flashed past Wolverine in a blur, then backpedaled just as rapidly and grinned at him. “Gate crashing, eh? Excellent!” and before he could grab the speed demon he’d zipped behind Wolverine back and slapped hard him on the back of the head before disappearing into the press of bodies with a flash of silver hair.
Growling, Wolverine looked around, trying to focus on faces through the blinding strobes that threatened to give him his first ever migraine. He roared an order at the computer to terminate the program. Nothing happened. He tried again. No dice. She’d apparently locked him out.
Snarling, he began shoving through the crowd to find the instigator of the glorified orgy going on all around him. He noticed that mingled in with the sweaty, aroused scents of students was the non-scent but electric tingle of holographic bodies.
Cute. She’d populated the vast warehouse with some of those mutants she’d shown to him earlier as part of her sim homework. She’d been secretly laughing at his ass the whole time she showed him her "homework."
All that was true is left behind
Once I could see now I am blind
He finally locked onto her scent and barreled through the crowd, shoving real and fictional bodies out of the way, pausing only once to rip Kurt off Magma by the tail when it looked like the appendage was sneaking up the girl’s shirt. Kurt took one wide-eyed look at Logan’s face and bamfed him and his little piece out of sight. Again focused on his objective he took a deep sniff and found the Rogue’s scent lead his eyes upwards.
She was on raised platform, in a cage, rubbing lasciviously against the bars. And she looked to be naked. He momentarily forgot his original intention to rip her into teeny tiny squishy bits and watched. When a green laser hit her body it seemed to slowly trace her lean form, and he realized she was covered, although not in any outfit he’d ever seen before.
Don't want your dreams you try to sell
This disease I give to myself
It looked to be painted on, literally. He took another long draw of breath through his nose. Latex. She was covered in liquid latex from her toes to her chin, black and green swirls that went all the way up to her face and traced around the edge of her jaw. Even her hands were covered and it looked like liquid sin wrapped around her fingers, thighs, ass, and those tits. He wouldn’t think they were too small again. Her one concession to what modesty she had, she was wearing a tiny black bikini over the paint.
The Rogue grasped a cage bar in each hand and swiveled her hips viciously, grinding against the one in the middle, sliding down it like it was a lover. Her head was back, eyes closed, as she slung her body back and forth, absorbed in the music.
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
Turning away from him, she slid her back down the bars and spread her legs, crouching with her knees angled out and ran her hands down her legs to her ankles as she gyrated her hips, drawing his eyes to them like a magnet. She then straightened her knees so her legs were rigid and her ass rode high in the air as fingers dipped in green and black traced unknowable sigils on her flesh as they roved up.
He noticed a gaggle of teenage boys, both real students and cleverly designed holos, gathered around her cage. Something threw itself against the cage in his mind, begging to stab out eyes eagerly searing against her lithe form as she once against flung her body against the cage in mock anger. One of her hands reached out through the bars, beckoning, and even though he was still 20 feet away, Wolverine’s own hand rose unconsciously from his side. But she reached to someone closer and dragged a student with a gold and red punk haircut through the widely spaced bars.
Bezerker was clearly eager to join the Rogue in captivity.
She makes it sweeter than the sun
I get too tight I come undone
The boy reached out to grasp the Rogue by the hips and draw her to him, only be rebuffed with a hard shove until his own back was against the bars. The Rogue grabbed him by the spiky hair and forced his head back as she slithered against him. Wolverine growled and stomped closer to the cage. They were on the far side and he wouldn’t have been able to reach them through the bars, which were still too close together for his bulky frame to get through. He was about to unleash his claws, slash the thing to ribbons, and drag the two apart when the Rogue crashed to her knees buried her face in Berzerke's abdomen, gyrating her hips in an apparent frenzy.
I bow my head to confess
The temple walls are made of flesh
Captivated by the sight, Wolverine paused as one of her latex covered hands crawled up under his shirt and did something that made the punk’s head fall back and smack against a cage bar. Wolverine distinctly heard the Rogue’s raspy laugh, and it cut through the roaring music like a switchblade.
Runs up my arms 'til I'm on track
Itches my skin right off of my back
Her other hand crawled up and down his thigh, pinching, scratching, clawing and she sighed at the sight of Bezerker grabbing the bars on either side of him, as if to hold himself up under her onslaught. Her breath was coming quicker now, almost panting. Wolverine could smell the arousal slithering from her body. One of Bezerker’s hands came down to the back of her head and fisted in her hair.
I'll heal your wounds
I'll set you free
I'm Jesus Christ on Ecstasy
Her head tilted back and she grinned then snaked her tongue out to slide slowly over her lips then teeth, as though she were starving and the 17 year old boy in front of her was a meal she’d been dying for.
The hand that had been rubbing up the inside of his thighs came up and grabbed him by the belt and roughly pulled his hips forward as her head bobbed down.
Suck
Suck
Suck
Suck
While half of Wolverine wanted to rip the two of them apart and kill them both, another part, the angrily sinister and voyeuristic mind, leaned forward to watch as Rogue simulated giving the guy head, rubbing her face and platinum and chocolate hair against his hips and stomach.
The Rogue suddenly abandoned the pretense, stood up and whirled to press her ass and back against Bezerker. She grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her slicked hip and the other on one shiny black and green breast. The claws were itching to come out and Wolverine had to still his hands as he watched her move like a snake, sliding in dizzying waves against the lucky bastard with two hands full of her body.
A thousand lips a thousand tongues
A thousand throats a thousand lungs
She was laughing and tilting her head back to him, his dipping forward and for one irrational second Wolverine though they were going to kiss and she’d drop the guy to the ground. They didn’t touch flesh. Bezerker just pressed his face into the top of the Rogue’s head and laughed with her as they moved, his teeth gleaming in the crazy light. He did lean over and slick his tongue over the shiny covered column of her throat one time when she looked over her shoulder and smirked at him again. Then she gave him a hard, but playful, elbow in the ribs and stepped once again to the bars; her body slashed back and forth like a ragged blade and drew the other boys to come closer. Bezerker shrugged, laughed once again, squeezed through the bars then jumped onto the traffic jam of bodies and crowd surfed out of sight.
Even though their little encounter had clearly been in jest, Wolverine was pissed off. The animal in his head snarled and bashed itself into the back of his eyes, roaring to be let out and let loose on the green and black figure who slithered her ass in aching slides up and down in front of him.
Suddenly she turned around and crouched down, knees spread wide, giving Wolverine a full view of her slick and shiny body covered with just latex and a few scrap of black cloth.
A thousand ways to make it true
I want to do terrible things to you
She locked gazes with him suddenly, a moment passed with a crackling sensation that snapped at the air between then. Then her eyes narrowed. She hissed and he could clearly read her lips as the sound was lost in the thundering wail of electronic drums and searing guitars.
“Get a good look, old man?”
Snarling, the Wolverine reached through the bars and locked his hands on her shoulders, dragging her face close so she could hear him. “Turn it off!” he shouted in her face.
“Fuck you!”
“Promises promises!” he roared, then dragged her forcibly through the bars and crushed her against his chest.
“Goddamnit, turn it off!” He was bruising her shoulders in his grip, and he did not care if it hurt her.
Her eyes flashed brilliant with wrath, and she twisted in his hands, refusing to answer him. Furious, Wolverine shoved her backwards through the crowd, jostling people out of the way. She tugged and shoved against him as best she could, but she couldn’t budge him away from her. She tried to headbutt him again and almost swiped his chin with her bare forehead.
Wolverine jerked his face back just in time, then released one shoulder and clenched her covered neck in one hand and said in her ear, deadly serious venom dripping from every word, “Nah-ah, no sucking for you tonight darlin’.” Then he shoved her hard behind a stack of crates and pinned her against the wall by the throat. He was so frenzied he almost forgot to mind that he didn’t crush her larynx.
“What do you think you’re doing, kid?” he growled and she could hear him now, tucked out of the range of the speakers.
“Having a fucking quilting bee! What does it look like?!” she drawled nastily as best she could with her windpipe constricted.
“Looks like someone didn’t ask for permission to throw a party. You've been a bad girl, Rogue.” The words dripped like spoiled honey from his tongue.
She shivered. “Fuck you, you’re not my father!”
“Language goddamnit!” and he gave her neck a little shake, bouncing her head off the crate behind her. “If I was I’d beat you black and blue for that skanky little show in the cage.”
Her eyes narrowed hatefully. “Hypocrite!" she snarled. "You liked it just fine. I saw you watching.”
He shook his head for a second to clear the ring of truth from it and then went on the attack. “Yeh, watching a teenage girl throw her skinny ass around like a whore.”
She grinned nastily. “You seem like the type of guy who likes whores.”
He snorted disdainfully, “All covered up like that so no one can really touch you. You ain’t a whore. Shit you aren’t even a slut who gives it away for free.” He shook her neck again, making sure he had her full attention. Then he took a deep breath, inhaling the aroused but still untouched scent of her body, the bitter tang of her anger and frustration roiling out from her in wave of wantonness. “Yer nothin’ but a cocktease.”
She brought up her knee to nail him in the groin. He roared and shoved back, narrowly avoiding the blow. Then he grabbed her by the arm, digging his fingers and nails in hard, and said, “I mean it Rogue, I’m telling you one last time….turn...it…off.”
“Fuck you, Wolverine!” she shrieked and tried to pull away. He dug his nails in again and pulled, ripping off a long strip off latex and baring 18 inches of poison.
“Let’s see how much you tease when you ain’t hiding under all this shit,” he panted and grabbed at her again and tore off another long winding of latex, this time revealing her lean abs and a swath of white thigh.
She cringed back, pressing against the crates at behind her to get away from his hands, terrified of touching him again. She didn't want to know exactly what he was thinking, how much he hated her at this moment, what a little shit she was.
As Wolverine tore and ripped away the latex from her she felt more and more helpless and vulnerable, especially as he wasn’t wearing gloves. She most definitely didn’t want to know what he would do in revenge if she dropped him again with her power. When she was reduced to almost nothing but her bikini and some strips around her jaw and hands she was panicking, no weapons left to use against him.
He grabbed her by then back of her head and wound his fist in her hair brutally. He dragged her around the crates and shoved her hard into the crowd surging around the speakers.
Bodies, bared flesh, gyrated all around her, pulling, grasping, aching for her skin to reach and drain. Memories, minds, and powers all sung to her greedy skin to take and take, to suck them all dry.
She screamed, “Computer, end program! END PROGRAM!” and the crowd around her vanished. The two dozen real students who had been partying it up blinked at the sudden harsh light flooding the DR and the disappearance of their hot spot. Several of them jumped away from each other's embrace as they spotted Wolverine’s furious glare and the Rogue standing there what was left of her latex and a bikini.
He snarled at the startled students, “Don’t ever fucking let me catch you doing something like this again!”
The Rogue covered her face with her hands and barreled for the door, barely seeing her classmates jump hastily away from the miles of ivory lethal skin.
“I hate you!” she screamed as the DR door hissed open and she ran through.
“Good. You should.” Wolverine spat.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hateful UST here! Sadist!Logan and Bitchy!Rogue
It only gets uglier...and smexier! yeh, i just made up that word, i think it fits LOL!
It only gets uglier...and smexier! yeh, i just made up that word, i think it fits LOL!
Chapter End Notes:
Song: Suck by NIN.
Next chapter we get NC-17 rating. It will be posted late Friday night as I'm leaving Saturday morning and can't go on my trip with this unfinished!
P.S. I am a comment whore. Feed the beast!
Next chapter we get NC-17 rating. It will be posted late Friday night as I'm leaving Saturday morning and can't go on my trip with this unfinished!
P.S. I am a comment whore. Feed the beast!