Light emanating from the single lamp left on in the front foyer rose up through the mansion’s grand staircase, softly illuminating the dark wood steps and paneled walls, casting shadows of its winding banister against the undersides of each landing. A door slowly opened on the third floor and Rogue’s head peaked out, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dimness as she stepped out into the hallway. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she made a face.
The sounds were louder out here.
Long drawn out sighs of familiar shared pleasure from one couple - feminine gasps and masculine moans of recently discovered passion from the other. A piece of her twisted inside, trying hard to pretend it didn’t matter. He didn’t belong to her, she had no right to feel sad, but yet she did, envy eating away at her as she listened to him find comfort in the arms of another. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried not to envision what Remy was doing to the woman who was whispering his name, what it was that brought out such stunned cries of surrender.
Tears sprung to her eyes. Rogue wanted to be her. Rogue wanted to touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed. She wanted.
She wanted.
Rogue stepped towards the stairs, wiping tears from her face angrily, needing to get away from the sounds. She always hated this time of night when they thought everyone was asleep and couldn’t hear them. Their love-making kept her up, true, but it wasn’t what woke her up. That particular honor belonged to the dreams of the Wolverine that visited her every night.
Since his return to the mansion she’s been on fire, and it went fever-pitch every time he was near. This non-stop awareness was nerve-wracking, his scent was everywhere - even the faintest hint of it threw her into a state of hyper alertness and Rogue was reaching her breaking point. She couldn’t take much more of it. She had to have him.
The reasons for keeping her hands off him were making less and less sense to her with every passing day. She knew he felt the same way, that nonsense about them only being friends lost credibility a long time ago and her need to punish him for it paled in comparison to her growing hunger for his touch. She knew he wanted her. He knew she wanted him. It was bordering on ridiculous now.
Friends with benefits, she had told him. She couldn’t have made it any more clear.
Her growl of frustration followed her down the stairs. Bad enough she was trapped with poisonous skin, she was in a permanent state of arousal as well. Rogue wanted crazy monkey sex, and she wanted it with the Wolverine. Worse than that, she wasn’t even sure if she had any kind of sex before.
She couldn’t imagine being a virgin – dear lord, she was almost thirty years old. A man like Scott could not have gone two years without some kind of sexual relationship with her.
Scott.
There was a thought. Maybe she could approach the X-Men leader with an arrangement. He would be willing – he practically salivated every time she was in the same room with him and he was most definitely hot. Their previous relationship must have meant there wasn’t the issue of the problem she had with Remy, and she was sure that under that responsible, stalwart veneer there was a passionate, sexually experienced man. Just the shape of his mouth guaranteed it.
Rogue frowned, reaching the first floor and turning quickly towards the staff lounge. No, she couldn’t do that to him. He had admitted he still loved her and she wasn’t that much of a bitch. Besides, her life was screwed-up enough as it was.
Why was she stuck with the Wolverine’s mutation, anyway? The professor told her it was because he stabbed her accidently with his claws, forcing her to absorb him to survive, but it was a diluted reason at best. It didn’t explain why Wolverine’s mutation stayed with her permanently. When she asked for an explanation, the professor evaded her question. As usual.
All in due time. It’s complicated. Be patient.
God, she was sick of it.
They were all in it, the vague responses and half finished sentences becoming as common as the déjà-vu that plagued her every waking hour. This place was full of half-truths and secrets. A month had passed since the loss of her memories and yet she was the only one who accepted that they were gone forever. She needed to move on and she couldn’t do that surrounded by people who forced her to stay in a constant state of limbo because they refused to believe that their precious Anna was gone. She was Rogue, godammit.
She was Rogue.
Switching on the light, Rogue entered the staff lounge and pulled out an ice cream tub from the freezer, impatiently tearing off the top with her teeth while simultaneously grabbing a spoon from a drawer. She scraped around the crater already gouged into the creamy dessert from all the nights previous, bringing the large scoop to her mouth with a grateful moan.
“Your body would appreciate protein more.”
Startled, Rogue jumped off the island counter she had hopped on. Embarrassed, she wiped the chocolate fudge from the sides of her mouth with her thumbs, swallowing the oversized portion with some difficulty. Rogue snapped the lid back on and put the ice cream back in the freezer, surprised she hadn’t been aware he was in the room. She was in worse shape than she thought.
Logan stood up from where he had been sitting on the sofa, hooking his thumbs through the empty belt loops of his jeans as he made his way towards her. Her eyes took in the tight, long sleeved black shirt he was wearing that molded to the delicious muscles under them, curious that he was wearing gloves.
“Are you cold?” Rogue was forced to back up when he stopped too close to her. She looked up at him warily.
“Not at all,” he replied, watching her for a few moments. Logan looked down appreciatively at her bra-less chest. “Are you?”
Rogue fought the urge to cross her arms over top her breasts, throwing the spoon she had used into the sink behind her and giving him a challenging look. The clatter of the metal utensil settling into the aluminum basin rang around them and neither made a move, keeping their eyes on each other. After what seemed to her to be an eternity, he turned sharply to leave.
An unpleasant buzz of disappointment shot through her.
Sighing, Rogue stepped to the sink and washed her hands, viciously tearing a piece of paper towel off its holder and drying her hands with more vigor than was necessary. A click was heard behind her and when she turned to the sound, she was surprised to see him place a chair underneath the knob of the now closed door of the staffroom.
He walked slowly back towards her, the expression on his face predatory, his arousal so thick she could taste it in her throat. Rogue became very aware of thin pajamas bottoms and camisole she was wearing, and the gloves she was not.
Logan took the crushed paper towel from her hands and threw it over his shoulder. “You can’t run away this time.”
He reached for her and suddenly, there was too much of him touching too much of her, his body a black covered specter crowding her. He slid one gloved hand under her top to grab her breast while the other dug into her pants to grab her bottom, lifting her off the floor to fit against him. She pushed at his shoulders, overwhelmed.
“Just a second, cowboy. You need to slow down.”
Logan grunted impatiently and hoisted her onto the counter she had been sitting on earlier, leaning forward to catch a beaded nipple into his mouth, forcefully opening her legs wide to fit between them. Rogue gasped in shock, and when he began to pull at her pants, she grabbed his covered wrists with the intent to stop him.
“Cut it out,” he snapped at her, eyes flashing in warning. “No more games. This is happenin’. Right here, right now.” He pulled her pants off roughly and immediately pressed his gloved hand between her thighs, his fingers pulling aside the crotch of her panties to slip within her folds. He growled in approval. She was very, very wet.
Rogue didn’t know what to do. He was touching her in the most intimate place he could have, and now, his hot mouth was wrapping around her other, equally over-sensitive nipple, his teeth sharp despite the thin cotton barrier of her camisole. She ran her hands over his shoulders, gripping his powerful biceps, frustrated her bare hands prevented her from touching him, wanting so much more but feeling trapped by her exposed skin.
Logan moved his head downwards, his hot breath hovering over her bare stomach before placing his hands on either side of the slip of cotton covering her between her legs. Stretching it flat, he nuzzled his nose against her, making her buck as he deeply inhaled her.
“Oh god, you’re… that's too much. Ah can’t, Ah can’t…”
“You can’t what?” she heard him say tauntingly before flattening his tongue and pushing it against her. Rogue lost coherent thought and Logan hardened his tongue to nudge her tiny, swollen center, her thighs twitching with each jab. She spiraled into mindlessness and her entire body began to shake.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” She drew her legs further apart and moaned, placing her feet on the counter’s edge for stability. She bent one arm behind her for support and tangled the other into his hair, almost screaming when he blew a hot breath against her rewardingly. “Oh god, that is just so…so…”
“Good. It’s just so good, darlin’,” he clarified for her, the rumble of his soft laughter adding to the sensations crashing through her. He began to swirl his tongue around her, his thumbs digging into the valley where her legs met her hips, his fingers cupping her to lift her more into his mouth. His teeth briefly nipped her before his lips tightly captured the compact bundle of nerves to suck on it.
Rogue whimpered, louder and louder as the pressure inside her built higher and higher. She threw herself backward, her hair falling down towards the floor as her head hung over the edge of the island, aware only of what he was doing with his gloriously talented mouth, the sounds of his mouth feasting on her filling her ears. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and grabbed her hips to keep her in place, breathing harder and faster, sucking harder and faster, his groans vibrating against her. She was shaking uncontrollably, her skin breaking out into a rash of goose-bumps and her back arched off the counter, knowing she was so close, so close.
Logan looked up at her, the desperate sounds coming out of her throat telling him she was going to come, her body so hot he could see waves radiating off it. Clenching his hands into fists, Logan gathered all the willpower he had and channeled it into a tremendous effort to bring himself under control.
And forced himself to stop.
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