The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
“Are they always like this?”
Rogue was sitting on a log watching the two feral mutants attempting to claw each other to death a few feet away. Hank was sitting next to her, his hurt leg elevated slightly and wrapped in a splint, courtesy of two branches and a strip of cloth from the bottom of her lab gown. She had to be careful, any more bandaging and she wouldn’t have anything left to wear, she thought, absently playing with the tattered hem.
The Doctor snorted, “Usually they’re worse. I am surprised it has taken them this long to finally come to such a state.” He returned to messing with the wiring and electronics he had held in his lap. He had taken apart a few of the collars and was now improvising some sort of device, but she had no idea what it was for. He didn’t seem concerned and so she decided not to be either. It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d seen the two of them come to blows. They’d have it out until they got bored or something finally distracted them enough to give up the battle. As for the rest of the group, they had backed up as quickly as possible, giving Wolverine and Sabertooth a wide berth. While the children and women looked terrified, she could see a few of the men were taking bets and wondered what the pot was up to and who the favorite was.
A small buzzing noise and then a puff of smoke had Hank muttering a long stream of profanity, in at least four different languages if she wasn’t mistaken.
Curiosity finally got the better of her. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching as he fanned away the smoke from the now blackened mess on his lap.
“I am attempting to create a simple communicator,” he growled at the contraption, “But I’m afraid I was not expecting the exceptionally advanced technology that I encountered inside the collars. The energy levels are proving to be too much and continue to sabotage my attempts at establishing a working circuit. Unless I can find some way to severely diminish the energy output from the collar’s core, I see no way in achieving my goal.”
“I might be able to help you with that.”
Rogue and Hank looked up to see one of the mutants from the lab standing in front of them. She recognized him as one of the “Wolverine groupies” as she had taken to calling them. A group of young men they had saved who had taken to following Logan around like lost puppies, hanging on his every word and who he had entrusted with various jobs around the camp. This one had apparently been charged with “Rogue duty” as she had noticed him following her around all morning. She cast a glare and growl at Logan who had just taken a wicked slash to the chest from Creed’s claws. Good, she hoped it hurt. She didn’t need a babysitter, especially not one she could toss halfway across the camp without breaking a sweat.
“The name’s Chris Bradley,” he said smiling, ignoring the frown on her face, then held his hand out palm up, “But my friends call me Bolt.” She watched as tiny currents of electricity jumped from his fingertips to form a ball in the center, he closed his fist suddenly and the glowing blue orb disappeared. “You need some energy controlled, I’m your guy.”
Seeing the opportunity to get rid of her unwanted escort she stood up and motioned for him to take her seat next to Hank, “Looks like you two got some thing’s to discuss. I’ll just leave you to it then. I could do with stretching my legs a bit.” She smiled as she saw a small hint of worry cross his face at the idea of her leaving the area. She was right, Wolverine HAD told him to keep an eye on her. The decision was already out of the kid’s hands though as Hank quickly pulled him down and started drilling him about the exact nature of his powers and what he could do.
Finally free of her tagalong, Marie walked over to get a better view of the fight because as soon as they were done with this little round about, she was gonna have a bit of her own with Logan and show him just how capable she was of taking care of herself. She found a secluded area a few feet downwind from the fight. Didn’t want her scent giving her away before she had a chance to pounce.
She hoped they would finish soon. The rage coursing through her at the indignation of being treated like a defenseless little girl was making her impatient. What was Wolverine thinking? She wasn’t weak, or frail, or helpless, far from it and with Cyber’s enhanced senses it wasn’t likely that someone would come upon her unawares. She stifled the growl rising in her throat. While her scent wouldn’t travel to them from her current spot, sound would.
If she hadn’t been so caught up in her fury she might admit that the two men fighting before her were quite a sight to behold. All muscles rippling, sweat dripping, as they danced around each other, then crashing together to exchange blows before breaking apart again. And the scent of them was enough to make any women weak in the knees. Pure masculine rage flowing down, tinged with blood and she felt the feral part inside of her start to wake up.
She leaned forward slightly, sniffing the air. She could almost taste the testosterone on it, imagine it dripping down her throat as she breathed in the heavy scent of it. The fighting drew closer to where she was standing and the scent became almost overpowering and then she heard it. It was like a mantra or a prayer, almost a hum and so soft she almost missed it. When they clashed together, when they came close grappling, claws entangled, growling and snarling. Just a single, simple word. MINE.
It was then she realized, this wasn’t just two men who hated each other’s guts having it out, it wasn’t X-men versus Brotherhood, good versus evil, and it wasn’t even Logan versus Creed. This was Wolverine versus Sabertooth, this was simply two alphas, at war, a testosterone ridden fight fest, over a female, and then it hit her, this was because of her, and damn if that thought wasn’t as freaking ridiculous as it was seductive. She became entranced watching the battle, the feral part of her suddenly very much awake. It was like nothing else existed except the pounding of flesh, the growling and screaming, the blood and the pain, the sweet scent of sweat, musk, of men. Mine.
She was so caught up in it that she didn’t even smell him coming until it was too late, until after she felt the tiny pinch of a needle piercing the skin of her neck, until she felt the burn of liquid being pushed into her system and the sound of Wild Child’s voice whispering softly in her ear, “Tag, your it sweetheart.”
The drug spread fast, leaving with it a tingling sensation all along her body and then a cold creeping and suddenly she was falling, landing on her side, staring out at the two mutants still fighting, unable to call out, unable to move, only able to stare and watch; the rest of her completely paralyzed.
She was going to kill him. He was dead. As soon as the drug wore off, which it would, she was going to throttle that fucking grin straight off his face. She wanted to scream, wanted to growl, wanted to rip, destroy, maim, but she was stuck laying there, completely helpless with that baboon leaning over her, looking so freaking damn proud of himself. She was going to castrate him. That’s what she was going to do. Castrate, then maim, then kill. In that order, as soon as the drugs wore off, which hopefully would be soon.
She wanted to close her eyes, remove him from her sight, but apparently she couldn’t even do that. They were frozen open and so she was stuck watching as he poked and prodded her with a stick to make sure the drug had worked and then, feeling brave knowing she was out of commission, coming so close she could feel his disgusting breath caressing her cheek, bits of drool dropping down from his fangs onto her face. Then his rough tongue licking a long trail from her chin to her forehead. She wanted to vomit.
Then the wind must have shifted, sending Wild Child’s growing arousal along with her own scent down to the two men, because the sound of snarling and fighting stopped and the following silence was deafening. Rogue watched as the two men turned their heads in almost perfect sync and looked straight at them. Finding her laying on the ground with Wild Child bent over sniffing at her neck. Logan’s eyes locked with hers and she tried to get the message through that she couldn’t move, that something was wrong, and dammit when was he going to get his ass in gear and come decapitate this freaking monkey off of her already.
Then Sabertooth turned suddenly, his hand flying to clench claws deep into Logan’s neck.
“Sorry runt, looks like it’s time to go,” he growled, and with a swift yank, the sound of tissue and tendon ripping. Rogue watched as Creed held the large piece of bloody flesh in his fist a moment before tossing it to the ground, saw Wolverine gasping and reaching for the throat that no longer existed because it was now laying on the dirt before his feet. And before he had even fallen to the ground, she was already being lifted up and over, onto Sabertooth’s large shoulder, the sight of Logan’s body lying in a pile of blood fading into the distance as the woods engulfed them.
Chapter End Notes:
*Bit of movie trivia, Chris Bradley/Bolt was played by actor Dominic Monaghan in the film X-men Origins: Wolverine.