Jean viewed the scene in front of her with a feeling of helplessness. Logan had been practically all Wolverine once they’d finally located Rogue. The animal snarling and snapping at everyone, pacing the length of the jet the entire way to Westchester, a low growl constantly emanating from his chest. Neither she nor Scott had been able to talk to or console him, and a not so subtle mental hint from the Professor indicated they shouldn’t try to any further. He’d said that Wolverine had taken over, and would remain in charge until he saw Rogue.
Jean recalled a similar incident to this one several years ago. Then, a 17 year old Rogue, newly arrived at the mansion, had still been standing as she’d used Wolverine’s power to heal the claw wounds in her chest. That alone had been enough to cause Logan’s body to start seizing. Now, as they’d entered Cerebro, Jean was sure that Rogue was dead. Even from the door, she could see just how battered and bloody her body was. The arm dangling at an impossible angle had caused her stomach to turn as she imagined the horrors that her friend must have endured over the past several days.
Her heart broke for Logan as he tried to convince Rogue to turn on her skin and take his healing. For whatever reason, Rogue had refused. But Logan was as stubborn as Rogue, if not more so, and had leaned down to gently kiss her, refusing to let her slip away from him again. Jean blinked back tears and reached for Scott’s hand as she heard the sickening sounds of Rogue’s body healing; the crack of bones righting themselves, the squelching of flesh mending. Logan had collapsed then, his body spent with the cost of his gift to her.
Jean wasn’t sure what had happened between the two of them, but until the botched mission at the Reiss building, this Rogue seemed to want nothing to do with Logan, physically at any rate. A fact which Logan seemed to have struggled with, but accepted over the last few months. Jean couldn’t imagine what he was going through, though the pure sexual frustration rolling off the man had been palpable, telepath or not.
She hurried down the walkway, determined to check Logan’s vitals after he’d collapsed. She wanted to ensure he wasn’t in danger of seizing like last time. But before she could touch him, a feral snarl erupted to her left and she was shoved roughly aside. The strength of the push stunned Jean and she slowly turned toward Rogue.
“Don’t you fuckin’ touch him,” Rogue growled at her. She was crouched down in front of Logan, arms extended to prevent Jean from reaching him.
“Jesus,” Scott muttered beneath as he joined Jean on the platform and caught sight of the nine-inch bone claws extending from between Rogue’s knuckles. Her eyes were a deep golden color as she glared at Jean, a menacing growl continuing to issue from her throat. “Careful, Jean,” he cautioned. “I don’t think Rogue’s all there right now.”
Jean nodded and tucked one loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She slowly extended one hand to check Logan’s pulse, but jerked it back as Rogue took a vicious swipe at her.
Rogue snarled at the woman who’d been approaching her mate. She could smell the concern coming off her, and it enraged her. Only she was to touch him, she would not permit another female to put their hands on him. The woman’s scent had spiked with fear as she’d taken a slow swipe at her, designed to scare her off, but hadn’t moved otherwise.
“Rogue,” the woman said in a soft voice. “I won’t hurt him. I just want to make sure he’s alright.”
Rogue growled again as she responded. “You don’t touch him, Red. You don’t go near him.”
Scott, having witnessed similar behavior from Wolverine on multiple occasions in the past, slowly approached the pair of women. He looked at Rogue and then deliberately moved his eyes downward, showing he wasn’t a threat to her. Her stance relaxed slightly as he stepped closer.
“Scott -” Jean started, but he quieted her with a quick jerk of his head. He knew what he was doing.
“Rogue,” Scott said, his voice pitched low and quiet in an attempt to continue to calm her. “Can I touch him?”
Rogue studied him for several seconds, clearly weighing the possibilities of him being a danger to Logan, her golden eyes were narrowed in indecision. Then, she nodded once, lowered her arms, and stood upright. Scott moved slowly past Rogue and knelt down to feel for a pulse at Logan’s carotid artery. The slow reassuring thump of Logan’s heart pulsed against his fingertips and he sighed in relief.
“He’s alive,” he assured Jean, and he saw her visibly relax.
Rogue ambled past Scott and Jean and headed down the walkway. She knew the male was no threat to Logan, and that he would prevent the female from touching him. Wolverine was whispering in her ear, his instincts were flowing through her body, and she scented the air as she processed what Logan had detected on his way into Cerebro. Detected and ignored, Wolverine said to her. His sole focus had been on getting to her and her face erupted in a feral smile as she recognized and appreciated his commitment to protecting her. But now it was her turn to protect him.
Logan had thought the place was abandoned. Not abandoned, Wolverine hissed at her. Temporarily absent of enemies. But the pungent scent of Sabretooth had grown stronger the closer Logan had gotten to Cerebro, and even Wolverine had insisted they reach Rogue before destroying their enemy. Now that she had been healed, it was time to eliminate the threat of Creed.
“Rogue, where are you going?” Scott called, startled to see her heading out of Cerebro.
“We’re not alone,” she growled. “Protect him,” she pointed at Logan. “I’ll be back when it’s over.”
She ignored the cries of protest from the male and female as she closed the door behind her. Using Wolverine’s strength, she wrenched the handle in her grasp, mangling the metal to prevent them from leaving, and to delay anyone else’s possible entry.
She scented the air again, turned toward the hallway, lip turned up in a snarl. She was going to destroy the fucker for touching her.
________________
Logan woke as abruptly as if a siren had gone off right in his ear. He bolted upright in his bed, chest heaving as he came awake. He wasn’t surprised to find himself in his own room. He’d had the talk with Jean and Chuck several times over the past few years; that unless he was truly fucking dying, they shouldn’t let him wake up in any kind of medical setting. It was better for all of them. Safer. He threw off the sheets and prowled around the room, pacing back and forth.
Fuck, he thought. Did it work? Is she alive?
Welcome back, Logan. She’s alive.
“Thanks, Chuck,” he muttered as he located a pair of jeans to step into. Where?
Isolation, Chuck responded. Sub-basement.
Why? He growled back, furious that she wasn’t in the comfort of her own room.
She- Charles hesitated.
What! Logan called back loudly as he pulled a clean smelling white tank top over his head.
Scott and Jean reported the underground remains of the mansion were not quite as abandoned as you’d initially thought. Sabretooth was still there. She fought him. She absorbed him. Almost killed him, but Scott and Jean managed to prevent that at the last minute. She’s been out of her mind for nearly two days and I’ve been unable to reach her. Her thoughts are absolute chaos.
Logan tore out of his room and down the steps to the training room. He punched in his access code to the sub-basement and flew down the next series of steps until he saw her. She was behind the isolation wall, pacing. She was still wearing the shredded remains of her uniform, still soaked in blood and the filth of her imprisonment. He punched in another series of numbers to open the isolation door and she turned and smiled at him as she left the room to head toward him.
The roll of her hips was noticeably different. Animalistic. Raw. Carnal. He felt the animal inside scream awake into sudden awareness and rise up to take notice of the new saunter in her step, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the liquid movements of her body. Her eyes glinted full on black as she noticed him noticing her, and she cocked her head to one side as she appraised the feral look he knew must be shining out from his own golden eyes. Wolverine had surged to the forefront of his psyche, and he felt himself shoved aside as the feral’s instincts took over.
Wolverine could feel the dominance of Creed in her, could see her struggling to contain the other alpha personality. He wanted to immediately stomp out any traces of the other male, felt his desire to show her who the dominant one really was take over. Wolverine hoped the animal she’d absorbed from him was giving Creed hell inside. He wasn’t so sure his own Marie would have been able to handle the massive influx of alpha that Rogue had taken into herself in such a short span of time.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” She said in a hoarse voice. “See somethin’ you like?” Her tone was mocking, full of Creed’s syntax, rhythm, and cadence, and he hated it.
“Listen to me,” Wolverine growled at her. “You need to fight this. Creed is strong, but you’re stronger. Rid yourself of him.”
“Why?” She rumbled deep in her throat.
“’Cause,” he replied, his body instantly hard. “There’s only room for one of us in you. And it sure as shit ain’t gonna be Creed,” he growled roughly.
“Dream on, runt,” she growled, “This sweet one is all mine.” And she ran her hands down the length of her filthy, shredded, blood-stained uniform to cup her breasts. She rolled her nipples between her fingers as Creed’s dark eyes glinted back at his, mocking, as a low moan met his ears.
The scent of her arousal hit the air and Wolverine threw his head back, inhaling greedily, overcome by the surge of wild lust that coursed through him. His claws released instinctively as he processed something mixed with her essence, though. Something that made his blood boil. The scent of the Cajun and Creed. She still bore their marks on her clothing, hair, and skin, and Creed’s foulness was more prominent, likely due to his presence within Rogue’s mind.
“This one doesn’t want you,” she scoffed with disdain, her hands continuing to pinch her nipples through the torn and bloodied leather.
Wolverine felt himself mesmerized by the fingers on her body. He knew it wasn’t Rogue, but he couldn’t look away from the sight of her touching herself. He knew it was wrong to want to watch her, knew it was really Creed who was touching her, but it still sent a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He was going to have to get through to her, to Marie, and soon. His dick wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.
“Her thoughts are all about the Cajun,” she continued, smirking as she glanced down at the bulge in his jeans. “‘Oh, Remy,’” Rogue’s voice mocked in a high falsetto. “‘Yes, there. Harder!”
Wolverine couldn’t help the snarl that left his lips. He knew Rogue wanted him. She’d as much as said so, with her body at any rate, when he’d kissed her in the science building. He had smelled the acceptance of her body, seen her pupils dilate, noticed the tightening of her nipples beneath her uniform, smelled the sweet thick scent of wetness beginning to pool between her legs. But it didn’t mean she didn’t still want Remy, the Remy from her own world. He hated that she might still be committed to that dick after everything that had happened. He wanted to kill the fuck, even if he wasn’t the same man as this dimension’s Gambit.
Of course, he wanted to kill anyone that put their hands on what was his.
She let out a dark laugh as she watched him struggling. “You don’t even know what they did to her, runt. Those scars she has on her back won’t compare to the marks I’m gonna leave on her.” She began moving closer to him, slowly, one step at a time. “I’m gonna rip her apart, and laugh while doing it. I’m gonna lick the blood off her fingers as I slice deeper.” She looked directly into his eyes as she sucked hard on her right index finger. “And I’m gonna come as I twist my fingers inside her still warm guts.” She clenched a fist at her abdomen and let out a fake cry of release.
“Fuck off, Creed. Yer not gonna hurt her.”
She snickered at him, black eyes sparkling with amusement. “And what’re you gonna do about it? You can’t fight me. Not when I’m in here,” she said as she pointed her temple with her index finger.
“You sure ‘bout that?” he ground. The sight of Creed’s characteristic long claw pointing at her head, yet another physical sign of Sabretooth’s inhabitance in her body, was the last fucking straw. The edges of his vision crowded with red and he exploded forward. He felt a deep satisfaction at the slight surprise in her eyes, but it didn’t take long for her to react. She had access to all of Creed’s instincts, as well as his own, and she spun away quickly, while at the same time lashing out with a vicious swipe of her hands and clawing him across the face. He felt the sting of her nails rake him, felt the quick hot droplets of blood roll down his face before his skin closed, and he resisted the instinct to lash out in retribution. It was exactly what Creed wanted him to do. And he wouldn’t do anything to her that would harm her.
She whipped back around to face him, lip raised in a snarl as they stalked one another across the cement floor of the sub-basement.
“You’re not gonna hurt me,” she smiled back at him. “Not when she might get hurt.”
Wolverine said nothing, but began to analyze her movements while they continued to circle each other.
“Aw, the little runt doesn’t know what to do!” Her laughter echoed across the room. “C’mon, make your-”
She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Wolverine had charged forward in a feint and she reacted exactly as he’d hoped. She moved to block the strike he’d aimed at her head with both hands and he ducked at the last second to head butt her in the chest. She was off balance with her attempt to block him, and stumbled backward giving him the opportunity to grab her hands as she flailed, trying to maintain her balance.
He snarled with satisfaction and pleasure as he pinned her hands behind her back and thrust forward. She let out a whoosh of air as he pressed hard into her midsection, but she was otherwise incapable of escaping his iron grasp. The weight of his body was pinning her to the wall, his hips pressing into her belly, his thighs trapping her legs against him. And despite her borrowed strength she was unable to wiggle free, though she kept trying, her body twisting and muscles straining with the force of her struggle. She grunted with her efforts, and roared in his arms. Creed was pissed. Good, he thought to himself.
“Rogue,” he rumbled into her ear. “Marie. Come back to me. Fight him.”
Unable to contain himself any longer, his tongue darted out to trace the sensitive outer shell of her ear. He tasted the tiniest hint of her blood, and a dark primal pleasure pulsed through him as he felt her shudder in his arms. He bent forward to inhale her scent, and this time his tongue caught the sensitive skin of one taught tendon in her neck. He could taste the salt of her sweat, small flecks of her blood, and still the scents of his enemies. He growled as he rubbed the roughness of his beard against her throat, trying to remove their scents and replace them with his own. At the same time he worked one muscled thigh so it rested in between her legs, gently working back and forth at the apex of her thighs.
He smelled the honeyed scent of her gradual arousal filling the air, though he knew Creed was still there. He could still feel the claws extending out of her fingertips behind her back.
“Get. Out!" She roared suddenly as she threw her head back. It was as if she was trying to throw something off her, physically, and Wolverine grinned. She was winning.
“C’mon, Rogue,” he murmured against her neck. “Give him hell. Tell him to fuck off, beat the shit out of him, and lock him away.”
Her eyes cleared for a moment and turned their usual shade of warm chocolate brown. She looked directly into his eyes and said through gritted teeth, “For fuck’s sake, Wolverine, help me.”
He didn’t know if she was talking to him, or the him in her head. But either way, he was more than willing to oblige. He grated his teeth along her exposed throat and was rewarded with a low groan of pleasure. He felt the tension in her muscles wane slightly, but he wasn’t giving over yet. Not in the off chance it was a ruse by Creed in an attempt for him to loosen his grip. He could still smell the fucker in the air, meaning her fight to regain control wasn’t over yet.
He kept both her wrists in one hand while he used the other to run through her tangled hair to force her to look up at him. “You’re mine,” he said as he ground his erection into the softness of her belly. Her eyes flickered from brown to black, then brown again, and her body physically shuddered. He could practically taste her need on the air and he pulled her hair back, tilting her face up to his, and claimed her lips with his own. His tongue demanded entrance and she hesitated a moment before complying. His teeth nipped and sucked at her full lower lip as he released her hair from his hand and moved it down the length of her body to cup one full breast. She arched into his body then, and he took the opportunity to roll her nipple between thumb and forefinger as he simultaneously left the pleasure of her mouth to bite her. Hard. He didn’t let go with his teeth as she bucked against him, trying to grind herself against his hardness. He increased the pressure of his mouth against the junction of her neck and shoulder, until he felt her body go slack in his arms. He laved and sucked the tender spot, tasting the smallest bit of fresh blood, and moved his head back to study his work. To his immense satisfaction, his mark stood out darkly against the paleness of her skin, and his cock pulsed at the sight. He’d finally marked her.
“Oh, fuck,” Rogue moaned, his Marie’s tone back in her voice. She shook her head and frowned. “Logan?”
He scented the air and looked down into her eyes. They were clear, molten brown, eyelids heavy with arousal, and Creed’s stench had lessened.
Then, she seemed to snap out of the haze of pleasure and pushed him away from her, violently. He didn’t try to restrain her further though, he could tell Rogue was in control.
She looked down at herself and let out a half-sob as she breathed in. “Get this shit off me. Get it off!” She cried as she began to rip the tattered remains of her uniform.
“Rogue,” he rumbled back at her. He was confused at the abrupt change in her mood. But then she spoke again and he understood.
“I can still smell them,” she said in a hoarse voice. Tears of rage were forming in her eyes as her shaking hands tried to rip away the leather.
He stepped forward and wordlessly helped her out of her uniform, undoing the fastenings at her sides as she unzipped her boots and stepped out of them. Finally, she stood before him, naked and shaking. She looked up at him, shadows in her eyes, and he said nothing as he gently took her in his arms. He wrapped his arms around her now unmarked back, encircling her body with the protection of his own, feeling his guts rip apart as he felt her shake with the force of her sobs.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Short but dark and sweet chapter ahead.
Chapter End Notes:
Welp, *ducks bottles aimed at head* don't be mad at me! I just couldn't get them together yet. Not after everything Rogue just went through. Besides, I think they need to have a little bit of a conversation to sort things out, don't you? :D