Baby, can’t you see
I’m calling
A guy like you
Should wear a warning
It’s dangerous
I’m fallin’
Vacation.
It seemed almost impossible to escape from the rest of the X-men, even when aboard such a large cruise ship. Rogue sighed, hands threading through long, dark, platinum streaked hair unbound and loosely hanging down her back.
What was the point of getting away from Westchester if you weren’t really away from anything, or anyone, that had been driving you slowly insane for the past seven years?
Seven years without a vacation, or hardly any off campus time, unless you counted the occasional Friends of Humanity smack down, or Sentinel destruction mission? Sheesh, they couldn’t even let her put her big girl panties on and walk around the ship on her fucking own! She didn’t need anyone to hold her hand!
r32;Instead, she was stuck with Kitty and Jubilee. They were friends, sure, but Rogue somehow always managed to feel like the third wheel now that they had all grown up and gone on to “bigger” and “better” things.
Namely, they had boyfriends.
Rogue was twenty-four. She could count the number of boyfriends she had had on one hand, and only one of those boyfriends had ever been willing to go all the way. Remy had been okay, but she needed more. Rogue needed a real man. I mean, sheesh, she was in her prime! Sure, she was a little shorter than your average super model, about five foot six and 135 pounds of muscle, but her breasts were ample, her ass was firm, and she had legs to die for.
Couldn’t she at least attract one guy?
Nope. Of course not. Even with her primary mutation under control, the voices locked tightly away, she was still the untouchable, toxic girl. The male mutants at the mansion who had grown up with her uncontrollable shock factor weren’t keen on touching a live wire, even when they knew the plug had been pulled.
Hell, she was on a cruise ship that marketed itself specifically towards mutants! Wasn’t there one man on board who’d be willing to give her a spin?
“Rogue?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Rogue, what do you think, do you like this scarf? Bobby likes it!” Kitty chirruped somewhere in the gray haze outside of her inner ramblings.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Hey Roguey, anybody home? Do you like these sunglasses?” Jubillee puttered.
Realizing that her annoying companions were not going to take “Fuck off” for an answer, Rogue turned towards the sounds without even looking.
And slammed into something extremely firm, tall, and strong.
“Whoa there, darlin’,” a gruff voice rumbled. Hands were grasping her upper arms, holding her steady. Her chest was smushed into one that was clearly male.
How could she tell? He was shirtless. Her eyes were at pectoral-bicep level, and if she glanced lower she knew that her fingertips were lightly touching chiseled abs. Because his chest. Was. Perfect.
Adonis perfect.
Hot damn. Hot damn. Hot damn.
Blinking herself out of her reverie, Marie glanced upwards, her breath catching in her throat.
Had she said hot damn?
There’s no escape
I can’t wait
I need a hit
Baby, give me it
You’re dangerous
I’m lovin’ it
Logan growled irritatedly as he stepped out of the pool that he had just been thrown in.
Could he swim?
Could he swim, of course he could fucking swim. What kind of answer was that? This was the last time he went on vacation with Luke fucking Cage. Just because Tony Stark offers you a trip on his luxury cruise boat for mutated freaks at no cost does not mean that it’s a smart idea to accept the offer.
Did Cage think that S.H.I.E.L.D would take an agent who couldn’t swim? Fuck no. Their missions ranged from islands, tropical forests, and urban jungles.
“Stark put you up to that, didn’t he,” he scowled, toweling his hair. He had meant to lay by the pool and chat up the red head telepath he’d run into on a mission a few months back. She was one of those X-freaks Charles Xavier collected. Damn it all if he hadn’t noticed her wedding ring two minutes in to the conversation, which distracted him enough for Cage to sneak attack him into the massive pool.
Hence the fact that he now needed two towels, instead of one. He grumpily snatched a towel from the nearest cabana boy, lifting his lips in a snarl as the kid turned and ran away as quickly as he possibly could.
On the plus side, Cage had probably saved him from making a move on the all-too-willing married woman and consequently having to deal with her irritated husband later. Lifting his lip in a snarl, Logan shot one adamantium claw out of his knuckles and made a very vulgar gesture in Luke’s direction.
“Yes, Stark put me up to it, but hey, we’ve just earned the cost of our vacation,” Luke said as cheerily as he could possibly muster. He was Luke Cage, it wasn’t like he was the epitome of yippy-skippy in the attitude department.
“Stark gave us a free vacation just so you could throw me in a pool?” Logan snorted, lifting one eyebrow, “I feel like we got the better end of the bargain.”
“Maybe he was betting you would drown,” Cage snorted, reaching for the beer he had left sitting in a bucket of ice underneath his deck umbrella.
“I love you too, Tony,” Logan huffed, crossing his eyes in irritation. In his earlier days, he probably would have gone after Stark in a fit of outrage. Today, he was just tired. He had no hot girl to hit on, and hadn’t been laid in six months.
What was the point of being on a cruise ship full of mutated freaks if you couldn’t find one willing and freaky enough to shag you?
“I’m headed back to my room, you need anything?” Logan asked, rubbing his hand along the back of his head in a vain attempt to ruffle his hair back into its normal upswept style.
“Nope,” Cage said with a snarky grin. He reached out and snagged a curvaceous looking green-skinned cabana girl by the wrist, “Hey, sug, wanna get me another beer?”
Rolling his eyes again, Logan slung his towel over his shoulder, and began to trod barefoot back towards the concourse. He’d snag one of those snack wraps from the on board McDonalds, then head back to his room for some dry clothes.
“Sir, sir!”
A hand gently touched his shoulder, and he turned sharply to look at a young male staff member, his mousey brown hair mussed and unkempt, name tag slightly askew.
“Yes?” Logan asked.
“You can’t walk through the Concourse without shoes on, sir, I just thought I’d mention it, that’s all,” he stammered.
“You want me to put on shoes,” Logan said, looking skyward for divine inspiration and finding none, he turned back to the worker, “Hm, don’t see any shoes around here.”
“Sir, I must insist you put on shoes,” the man said, hand clamping down tightly on Logan’s forearm.
The Wolverine in him snarled violently, the beast inside rubbing along the underside of his skin as if it wanted to erupt from him. He leaned his neck to the side and popped it, loudly, “Make me.”
It was almost amazing how quickly the kid let go.
Squaring up his shoulders, Logan turned and walked straight into the crowd, and slammed right into a woman.
“Whoa there, darlin’,” he rumbled gruffly, hands steadying the slim body in front of him by grasping her forearms.
Soft brown doe-like eyes stared up into his own, dark chocolate hair sliding along the skin of his chest. Her fingertips stroked unintentionally against the tight plane of his abs, and he bit back a snicker - okay, even the Wolverine was ticklish.
She wasn’t hot, not like the red-head at the pool, but damn, she was classically pretty. Freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks lightly, two streaks of platinum hair framed her face. She had on a sleeveless purple dress, perfectly toned arms, and he was sure that those breasts pressed tightly against him were just as firm as they looked.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, obviously flustered, her cheeks were turning pink, “I didn’t see you there, distracted, by, uh...”
Hell. She was smoking. Might as well jump in feet first. And that southern accent? Oh, hot damn. This girl just did it for him.
“Name’s Logan,” he said, chest rumbling. He still hadn’t let her arms go. He pulled back, extending one hand towards the girl in front of him.
“Marie,” she replied, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. She had a little gap between her front teeth. It was adorable.
“What brings you to the high seas?” he asked, suddenly feeling very awkward.
“Vacation,” she said, hurriedly, like she was out of breath. Logan noted she was having a hard time pulling her eyes away from his chest. He smirked. Sometimes he had that effect on women.
“Sir! Sir!”
“Aw, dammit,” Logan hissed, turning to see the same guy harping him about shoes walking towards him with two security guys.
Carrying a pair of Crocs.
“You know them?” Marie asked, and he could hear the amusement in her voice.
“They want me to put on a pair of shoes,” he replied, now completely embarrassed and awkward. Meet a cute girl and get thrown off the boat she’s on because of a no shirt, no shoes, no service policy.
Fuck that.
“Well, they do have a sign saying you need to have on shoes. What if you stepped on something and hurt yourself?” she said, concern evident in her voice.
“I would heal, that’s what,” Logan replied, “You busy right now?”
Marie glanced towards a pair of chattering women about her own age, accompanied by two completely whipped looking pussies that were holding yellow and pink pocket books.
“Nope,” she said, grinning broadly, “Wanna ditch the security detail?”
“Fuck yes,” he replied, returning the grin.
She grabbed his hand and tugged him deeper into the crowd. Now, the security guards and their Crocs were having to lift their heads up over the hundreds of busy shoppers to see where they were going.
“Think you can keep up?” she called, and Logan felt the Wolverine purr inside of him.
“Know I can, darlin’, lead the way!”
And with that, they were off.
The security detail saw them running, and began to run after them. One of them even pulled a taser out. Logan could hear Marie laughing as she ducked through a crowd of shape shifters, then ducked neatly into a side hallway marked “Staff Only.” They pounded down the hallway, finally slamming through an emergency exit, bursting into the bright sunshine, to arrive on the observation deck.
He slammed into the railing to stop himself, and she did the same. Marie was laughing delightedly, her hair wafting out on the breeze behind her. Her dress strap had slid down, revealing a teensy bikini top covered in red and white polka dots.
“That was fun,” she gasped, hand reaching up to tug her top back into place, “What would you like to do next?”
Logan just grinned.
Too high
Can’t come down
Losing my head
Spinning ‘round and ‘round
Do you feel me now
With a taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
Don’t you know that you’re toxic
And I love what you do
Don’t you know that you’re toxic
Dinnertime found Logan and Marie facing each other across a table, both with eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“Gin,” Marie said smugly, laying her hand out onto the table. They sat on the VIP deck, Logan smoking a cigar, she chewing on the end of a straw from a styrofoam McDonald’s cup.
“You can’t already have gin,” Logan groused, slamming his hand down in a stack to glance at her offering, “Well, shit.”
Marie snickered, “Pay up.”
“I can’t believe we’re gambling to Gin Rummy,” Logan replied, dropping a ten dollar bill onto the growing pot in the middle of the table.
“Can’t believe we’re gambling, or can’t believe you’re losing?” Marie said slyly.
“Both,” Logan said, a snicker erupting from his lips as Marie’s stomach rumbled angrily, “I think your stomach is trying to tell you something.”
“Feed me, of course,” Marie patted her stomach, then stood, stretching her arms towards the ceiling. The pull of her arms made her dress ride up. Logan licked his lips unintentionally as it exposed more of her creamy thigh.
She bent down to pick up her winnings, and Logan’s eyes were drawn directly to her décolletage. Hot damn.
“Now that I’m two hundred dollars richer,” Marie said with a slight smirk, “I think I’m going to go downstairs, eat a nice dinner, and perhaps try to extend my luck with a little gambling.”
“Sounds fun,” Logan grumbled, the cool ocean air blowing against his chest from the open port side window making him shiver. He knew she was being polite - asking him to go his way as she went to find her friends from earlier. They were probably worried about her.
“Wanna put on some shoes and join me?” Marie teased.
“Don’t I need a shirt too?” Logan asked, standing and stretching. He tried not to let his pleasant surprise wash across his face. Marie thought she could feel the temperature in the room rising.
“Shirts are optional tonight,” she quipped, trying not to stare.
“Does that mean you’re not wearing a shirt?” Logan grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“Do you want me to?” Marie teased.
It’s getting late
To give you up
I took a sip
From my devil's cup
Slowly
It’s taking over me
Too high
Can’t come down
It’s in the air
And it’s all around
Can you feel me now
“Aw fuck,” Marie giggled as she tapped her finger next to her blackjack hand, “I really suck at this.”
“Bust,” the dealer said sadly when she flipped her cards.
“No shit, darlin’,” Logan tapped his finger as well, flipping the cards to reveal a perfect twenty-one.
“Blackjack, sir, would you care to bet again?” the card shark offered.
“Nah, I’m good, Marie?” Logan nodded towards the table, “You wanna play again?”
Marie looked sadly at her dwindling pile of poker chips, “Alas, my dear friend, I feel that the rest of my ill-gotten funds must be spent on something more productive.”
“Such as?” Logan extended his hand, and she took it.
“I hear they’re selling mutancy cures on Deck V,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, swaying her hips along with the catchy disco music that hummed over the loudspeakers as she tugged him towards the cafeteria and dance floor.
Logan raised an eyebrow in return, “Mutancy cures? Why would you want one of those?”
“I’m toxic,” she rolled her eyes at him. They reached the dance floor, and he tugged her closer, until her hands rested on his bare forearms. His muscles tensed under her fingertips, “Logan,” she whispered, “Today has been wonderful, but,”
“No buts,” Logan growled, his hands slid down to her hips, directly above the swell of her buttocks, “I don’t normally dance, so I’m making an exception for you, enjoy it.”
Marie just responded with one of those grins he come to love so much throughout the day. Who’ve thought that he could have run into the girl of his dreams on a cruise ship?
There had to be a catch.
She was black ops, a Dark Avenger, a skrull designed to wiggle under his defenses and emasculate one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s most dangerous operatives.
She didn’t smell like a spook though. She didn’t smell like she was lying. She smelled like an honest to goodness girl-next-door, untainted by all the mutant versus human emotional shit the entire world was embroiled in.
She had sucker-punched him in the proverbial gut, because he hadn’t been expecting to find a girl like this. He’d wanted the hot girl, the girl that would fuck him silly then leave him in the morning.
Instead, he’d found a woman that was accomplished, sexy, smart, and a helluva good Gin Rummy player. Perhaps she was a little jaded, a little disenfranchised with the world, but she still had spark and passion.
He wanted to keep her.
“So what is your mutation?” she asked, her arms curling around his neck lazily. The hopped up beat of the song they were listening to wasn’t made for slow dancing, but this girl didn’t follow the norm, she made up her own rules. Logan went with it.
“Super healing, feral senses, and you?” He managed to make his voice sound like a purr, the vibration in his chest rumbling through her stomach, which was pressed tightly against his own.
She liked it. He could tell just by the way her scent spiked, a cloying, delightfully musky perfume.
“Toxic skin,” she whispered, eyes glancing down as if she expected him to leap back, to step away from her in shock, “I can control it though,” she supplied, “Otherwise I would suck your mutation and life force right out of you, and keep it for myself.”
“Ever used it?” He liked her even more now, something about the danger of holding her bare skin in his hands was making his libido roar. It liked to play with fire.
One of her hands slid up his arm to bat at a platinum strand of hair, “First time I was forced to really use it, this happened.”
“You steal that from the other mutant?”
r32;“No, he almost killed me,” she whispered, almost too soft for his keen ears to pick it up. Something inside of him was raging, trying to get out, to protect this girl he barely knew.
“Why? Why’d he go after you? You got some sort of spook ties I need to know about?” Logan queried, lightening his question with one of his barking laughs.
“I’m an X-man, but that’s about it in the spook department,” she said, with a shrug of her delicate shoulders.
“You’re an X-man?” Logan said, almost scoffing, “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack,” Marie said, glancing up at his eyes cautiously, “Is that a problem?”
And even though Logan knew he was climbing into a pile of dog shit ten feet high, that his boss would be screaming at him about inter-agency involvement, civilian-spook no-nos, and all the other bureaucratic bullshit, he shook his head no.
S.H.I.E.L.D be damned.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked instead.
She glanced towards the bar, where he caught sight of the same four companions she’d been tagging along with earlier today. Her face froze in annoyance as the prick with ice blue eyes caught sight of her and waved, standing up to walk towards them.
“You know somewhere else we can get a drink?” Marie asked, mouth suddenly dry.
“I’ve got a little something in my room,” Logan said. He hadn’t been expecting to move this quickly - they did still have two weeks to go on the cruise. He’d been planning on a bit of a slower seduction, but hell, why not?
“Let’s go.”
With a taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
Don’t you know that you’re toxic
And I love what you do
Don’t you know that you’re toxic
Don't you know that you're toxic
Logan was shirtless again, sprawled back in a deep leather arm chair in the sitting room of his private suite. Marie sat across from him in her string bikini top, her dress had been pulled down to her waist. A glass of bourbon sat on the side table next to her, alongside three empty Molson bottles.
Logan had to hand it to her, the girl could hold her own in the drinking department. She lifted the bourbon to her lips and took a sip, enjoying the flavor.
He glanced down at his cards and tapped his foot nervously against the floor. Sure, he’d known the girl was good at Gin Rummy, but to be good at Texas Hold ‘Em at the same time?
He’d already bed his shirt and his dog tags - they lay in the center of the table as a testament to the two hands he’d already lost. Marie had only lost the top to her dress, but even that was making it harder for Logan to concentrate. Her breasts were full and ripe, and they heaved gently up and down as she breathed.
And the only way he was going to get to see them tonight was to win this hand.
He glanced down at his hand and smirked.
Full House baby.
“Three of a kind,” she said, smugly laying her cards down on the table.
“Full house,” Logan replied. He slid his tongue over his lips. His pants were suddenly, extremely tight.
“What do you want?” she asked, teasing.
“Top off,” Logan growled. The Wolverine was very close to the surface now.
Marie flushed a brilliant shade of red. Her scent spiked deliciously - Logan could almost taste her arousal. He watched, mesmerized, as her hands reached around to untie the back of her bikini top, then slid up the strings to untie the neck.
The red-polka dotted bikini top fell down into her lap, one of her hands attempting to cover her bosom as the other lifted it and let it fall in the pile of winnings on the table. Her hand lingered there, and she tugged his dog tags out of the pile, lifting her hands to slide them over her neck, where they dangled in the valley of her breasts.
Logan snapped.
Something absolutely primal unfurled inside of him at the sight of those tags hanging there. Those were his tags. They symbolized his ownership.
“Ma-rie,” he managed to grind out between clenched teeth. His fingers clutched the edges of the chair desperately. The wooden arm on the left splintered and cracked.
“Do you want me to take them off?” she asked, a hint of nervousness spiking her scent of arousal. It made Logan want her even more.
“No,” he snarled, a feral sound, a passionate sound. In one fluid movement he was standing over her, blocking her from the coffee table and their game of poker. It was just her and him.
His hands found her waist, and she shrieked as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He stepped into the adjoining bedroom and plopped her down on the king sized bed. Broad hands reached for the skirt of her purple dress, jerking it off and sending it flying across the room to land on top of the TV. She lay on her back, clad only in her matching bikini bottoms and his dog tags, and he crawled over her, heat and passion building between them like humidity before a thunder storm.
“Oh, God,” she groaned as his breath caressed her cheeks, her neck. His nose was in the hollow of her collar bone, his tongue sliding out to lavish the junction of neck and shoulder. Her hands grasped his biceps, fingernails digging in delightfully.
“Marie,” Logan hissed, his hips nudging her knees apart so that his groin was flush against hers. He didn’t leave off his ministrations, instead, he slid his lips from neck to breasts, tongue and teeth working out a delightful rhythm that made Marie buck against his shaft, still encased in his swim trunks.
Her fingers were shaking on his biceps as her lithe toes slid into the waistband of his pants, sliding them down to his knees. He rose up to jerk them off completely, then pursued her across the bed until she lay in a massive pile of white downey pillows, her hair strewn around her like a blanket.
His tongue and teeth nipped a feverish line down her side, until they found the straps to her bikini bottoms. Dark, heavy lidded doe-eyes locked onto his own as he leaned down and tugged on each strap with his teeth, loosening and untying them. His lips then moved across her hips to tug on the center of the bikini. He pulled backwards quickly, completely exposing her core, making her gasp in delight.
“Logan,” she breathed, her hands now clenched tightly in his hair as his mouth went from hips to her pearl, tongue sliding languidly against Marie’s skin. One hand held her bucking hips down, her voice begging unconsciously for “More, more, more, please,” as he slid two fingers into her moist cleft. She almost screamed, her back bowing uncontrollably, fingernails digging into his scalp. He growled, teeth nipping at her clit in punishment, and that brought her like a hellcat, screaming his name loud enough for half the ship to hear.
“Please, Logan,” Marie groaned breathlessly, “Please.”
He positioned his thick member at her entrance, groaning as he felt her give, stretch, pull him in completely until he was as deep as he could possibly go, her still spasming muscles making him rock his head back and bare his teeth in pleasure.
“Oh, fuck me,” she gasped, her hands found his face, pulling his lips down to hers. Marie’s tongue warred with his, matching the rhythm of his hips as they pounded into her with wet smacks. She rocked upwards with every thrust, brushing her clit against his stomach. Her feet were up around his ears now, and this position was deeper, harder, tighter.
She was stroking his skin, clenching his arms one instant then sliding her hand down his side the next. She grasped his ass, and it surprised him. He thrust harder then, and she came apart once more at the seams, her muscles dragging him with her in a torrent of fluids, hip thrusts, and her lips slamming into his own as she swallowed his roar of pleasure.
With a taste of your lips
I'm on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic
Intoxicate me now
With your lovin' now
I think I'm ready now
I think I'm ready now
Intoxicate me now
With your lovin' now
I think I'm ready now
“WOLVERINE!”
Logan shut his eyes tightly, trying not to let in any of the angry morning light that Cage had deemed appropriate to expose him to.
“Geez, Cage, you’re burning my fucking retinas you asshole,” he groused, pleased to find his hands were wrapped around the same soft flesh he had indulged himself in the night before. Marie stirred, her brown hair strewn across his chest as she opened her eyes in disgust at the morning light.
“Do you understand what you have done?” Cage yelped, “You’ve just fraternized with one of our most tenuous allies, this could ruin relations between Xavier and S.H.I.E.LD, she’s one of his students!”
“No, I’m not,” Marie grumbled, rolling until her face was hidden in the pillow. They could barely hear her speaking, “I’m an X-man, thank you very much, but my contract is up for renewal this fall. Also, since I haven’t been a student in... at least five years, I don’t have to stay at the mansion if I don’t fucking want to. In fact, I have my own apartment.”
“Still, Wolverine, this was entirely inappropriate,” Cage continued to whine, only to be cut off by Marie, who sat up, breasts exposed, revealing a trail of hickeys from her collar bone to her hips.
“You’re just miffed you didn’t get laid last night,” she hissed, chunking a pillow at him.
Cage was speechless, he stared at the pillow, then at Marie’s breasts, then back to Logan, who was staring at him staring at Marie’s breasts. Logan growled.
“Cage, I’m on vacation,” Logan said, laying back so that his hands propped his head up. “As such, I don’t have to listen to you bitch about propriety for another two weeks, got it?”
“Crystal,” Cage replied, stiffly.
“Now get out, we’ve got things to do that don’t involve you.”
As Cage shut the door he heard a giggle from Marie that quickly turned into a breathless moan.
Well he’d won the bet that Wolverine could swim. But he’d just lost the damn love jackpot to Stark.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: So, funnily enough, I was reading someone else’s review for another story and they said that something was “toxic.”
So knowing me, with my penchant for stories inspired by music - I automatically thought Britney Spears. So I bring you a one-shot, PWP, inspired by our Rogue’s toxic skin.
“Toxic”
So knowing me, with my penchant for stories inspired by music - I automatically thought Britney Spears. So I bring you a one-shot, PWP, inspired by our Rogue’s toxic skin.
“Toxic”