She was hurt. She knew that much. Her leg throbbed with the pulsing beat of her heart, and she could feel the warm wetness of blood pouring out of the wound. It was chilling rapidly with the freezing air, and she knew she’d have to return to the warmth and safety of the others, and the den, soon.
She opened her eyes and things were sharper, keener than before. The forest seemed brighter and clearer in the pre-dawn light, even though the sun was yet to show its face. She frowned. The forests’ scents were amplified too, and she could sense the coppery tang of her blood, her fur, and something else. Something foreign - but not. It was her, but it was a stranger. She was confused. Since she didn’t know what to think of that scent, she let the troubling thought go.
A sudden roaring from the west met her ears. The yowl and yelp of her pack. Hurt. Dying. Dead. An unfamiliar yet comforting scent on the air. A stranger. A friend. An intruder. An ally. No. A threat approaching. She growled. She would show no weakness. No hints of her injury.
A voice suddenly echoed inside her mind, and she frowned. What was that noise? It seemed like she should understand, but the capability to do so was just out of reach.
The threat showed himself. He was large and heavily muscled. But she uttered another growl regardless. It was deeper, and longer this time. She would show the male she was not intimidated. He snarled back at her, the sound echoing against the trees, and she fought to suppress the shiver that wracked her body. It was a sound full of fury and fear. And power. Then, she scented the air again. He’d killed them. He had killed her pack. Their blood was all over him. She was incensed. Furious. She’d make him pay. Her life meant nothing, was nothing, without the rest of them.
He stalked toward her slowly, edging her up against the bank of the stream. She felt her hackles rise as she recognized the predatory glint in his eye, his desire to corner her, make her feel weak and without options. She would not allow him to gain control of this fight though. She stood taller and faced him without fear in her eyes. Another warning snarl issued from her throat at his continued approach.
His move toward her was relentless, and he rolled his shoulders, a popping noise sounding in the forest, as he prepared himself to lunge. His scent reached her again, and she felt the first stirrings of doubt. There was - something familiar, something comforting and intriguing about it. But she couldn’t name it. It made her feel things that she couldn’t possibly associate with this male who had killed her pack. Familiarity. Safety. Comfort. Trust.
She missed it. She missed the decisive moment in his golden eyes. A snarl, a snap. And the snow flying as he slid toward her. He snarled back as he threw his weight into her, knocking her to the side. A yelp tore through her throat as the searing pain in her leg registered with the pressure, and she felt it crumple beneath her. She wasn’t down for long, but twisted her body, contorting herself to escape the incredible weight of him, and she was back on her feet, trying to find an opening in his posture to strike. But he moved again, too fast, too quick for her to react, and he rolled his body against her, forcing her to the cold frozen ground.
He was holding her down now, his muscled forearm leaning into her throat as she writhed beneath him, still snapping, ripping, tearing. She was desperate to gain the upper hand and turn him on his back and clasp his throat between her teeth. His left side leaning into her chest, his other hand tightening on her arm as his breath slowed. His chest was still heaving with the fight and his lip was curled upward in a snarl. His eyes collided with hers and she would not look down. Would not show submission. He growled at her in warning, the threat of her disobedience clear.
He straddled her pelvis, pressing his weight into her body, willing her to still. She feigned quiet, feigned submission and bid her body to quiet itself. He stopped his efforts to subdue her and narrowed his eyes as he took in her posture. She glanced away and turned her neck, exposing the vulnerable pulse of her blood to his teeth. His scent changed then. The promise of dominance was now threaded with lust.
The male leaned in to sniff her and she struck. She threw her head forward into his and took great satisfaction at the cracking sound that rent the air. A yelp of surprise and his grip loosened just enough for her to turn over and gain a foothold in the icy ground. She was scrambling, trying to gain traction as he roared in her ear and twisted her around again to slam her into the ground once more. The breath was knocked from her abdomen with the force of his body and she froze, helpless as he pressed himself against the length of her. The warmth of his breath was against her face as he sniffed at her again, a low rumble deep in his chest vibrated against her in warning. He was pissed at her deception, furious that she’d resisted him.
The pain in her leg was throbbing now, radiating outward, and she could feel herself losing strength with the blood that stained the snow. Their breath intertwined in the sharp morning air. Another low growl issued from his throat as he tightened his hold on her. The pressure against her leg increased, and then a whine, a whimper from her own lips. She had lost. She conceded.
But he wasn’t satisfied. Wasn’t taking her actions for granted this time. He snarled and pressed himself closer to her neck, scenting her, breathing her in. A sudden change and she could feel herself submitting. She hated it but couldn’t help the instinct that ran through her. He’d dominated her physically in the fight, and he was showing her that he’d won. A ripping sound and a desperate snarl met her ears as he drove his jaws into the exposed skin of her throat.
Lips. Tongue. Teeth. Lust. Fuck. The sensations ripped through her at the first contact of his mouth against her throat. And she wanted. God, she wanted him. He snarled in approval of the tilt of her neck, the relaxing of her body against his as she accepted his claim on her.
And then… the pull. A strong wave of complex and layered emotions inundating her. Confusion. Anger. Lust. Then, she was taking more. The hints of emotion became entire moments, snippets of memory and thoughts, troubling fears and tiny joys. The feelings of concern from him in the facility as he watched Rogue roughly wipe the blood from her eyes. The rumbling warmth deep in his chest as she had shot him a look, the arch of one brow. The budding lust from the feel of her body as she lay down on the mattress beside him.
And then, there. Finally, the sharp ache of consciousness once more blooming in her mind. His consciousness. Hers. Both now. A man with complicated emotions and contradictory thoughts. His doubt of his own capacity to be good. His struggle with others’ acceptance, and also the acceptance of himself. And, there, over all of it the need. The fierce need to protect, to provide, to bury himself inside her skin and envelope himself in her warmth. To be there beside her and have her keep him whole.
A sudden emptiness as the rush of thoughts broke off, and she felt the lessening of the weight on top of her. The male - no, Logan, shook his head briskly as he stared down at her, chest heaving with the force of their recent struggle. His lip was still curled up in a snarl as he gazed down at her.
Rogue. Marie. That’s who she was. Jesus. The strains of animalistic instinct still roiled within her, along with his thoughts and she wanted to lay back down on her back, open her thighs, and welcome - Fuck! She shook herself out of that dangerous line of thinking. Her mind was whirling, the recent influx of the mind of the wolf and Logan danced inside her, twirling together, the instincts of Wolverine and the wolf mirroring each other in a sick sort of synchronicity.
He moved off of her then, she felt his weight leave her, and she felt a spark of surprise at the feeling of emptiness that settled over her. Something was suddenly missing. Gone. She stared at him wildly as he looked up at her, hazel eyes returning and breath skill uneven and heavy, when a sharp tsk met the air.
“Que se passe?!” A sudden shout from Rogue’s left had both her and Logan jerking toward the source. Remy stood beside the large trunk of a pine tree in half-fighting stance, a look of bewilderment on his face. “You are covered in blood, chére!”
Rogue glanced down at her leg, feeling the throbbing pain of the wolf bite dissipate as Logan’s mutation flooded her body. She could smell the lingering effects of the stirrings of her own arousal, as well as the spike in Logan’s scent as he’d let the Wolverine take over. It was tinged with wildness and lust, and longing, and she didn’t know what the fuck to make of it.
“What the hell happened, chére?” Remy asked, walking cautiously over to her. And then, sensing her unease, he turned to furiously round on Logan. “What did you do to her?” His voice was full of accusation and anger.
“I didn’t...fuck. I didn’t fuckin’ do shit except save her ass, Gumbo,” Logan snarled, now standing slowly to his feet, before gesturing furiously to her. “I turn my back for a few goddamn minutes and the kid managed to get herself attacked by a pack of fuckin’ wolves.”
“Dis true, chére?” he asked, his voice softer as he addressed her.
Rogue couldn't’ respond. She could only continue to breathe, looking blankly at Logan, struggling with the recent influx of instincts and feelings running through her. If she hadn’t absorbed Logan’s healing, she’d likely be going into shock, or dying. Dammit, she thought harshly. That’s another time he’s saved my life. How am I supposed to ever make things even between us?
“You kill them all?” she asked him quietly. He only nodded, before tilting his head to something behind her. “All but that one, kid. You did that.” Rogue turned around slowly, glancing at the grey and white fur now matted with blood, her blood, in the snow, beginning to realize now the full extent of what had just happened. She couldn’t have been gone from the shelter more than fifteen minutes.
“Fuck,” she muttered, as she woozily put a hand to her head, Logan’s senses still pulsing hotly inside her. Once she’d begun to process what was happening, she’d felt all of the instincts of the wolf and Wolverine swirling together. The feral, animalistic thoughts of protection and possession were oddly shocking. She could understand the wolf’s nature - Logan had killed her pack - but the Wolverine, that odd duality of wanting to keep her safe and own her. She didn’t, couldn’t, understand that. It had been so long since she’d had to take some of his healing, that she’d been unprepared for the new layers of complexity, of nuance. His thoughts had been nothing like this before. Now, things had changed. She had taken so much.
“Are you...ok?” she asked Logan finally, unable to bring her gaze to meet his.
“Fine,” he growled, crossing his arms as he did so.
Rogue exhaled sharply in frustration. She was familiar enough with that look. He wasn’t gonna say another goddamn word about what had just happened. He’d done what he’d needed to to keep her alive, and that was it.
A low growl echoed in her mind and she jerked at the sudden sound. It was her recent acquisition of Wolverine. He was so clear right now, pacing, looking out for her. Wanting to protect her, wanting other things from her too. She sucked in her breath at the sudden impression of raw, primal lust that he gave off and she closed her eyes to steady herself. Even if if the Wolverine wanted her, it was clear that Logan wasn’t going to act on those instincts. He kept forcing those thoughts down, keeping them locked, caged, his goddamn honor preventing him from going after what he wanted. Too convinced of his own shortcomings, his fear of hurting other people stifling his true desires. She’d long ago dealt with the realization that he’d never allow himself to look at her that way, as an equal, as somebody who could match his darkness with some of her own. Somebody who could dish it out as well as she could take it. The truth was, she’d enjoyed that wild primal instinct running through her. Too much. She’d wanted that bite to linger. Wanted the sharp scrape of his teeth to work down the length of her neck and taste her. Christ. With difficulty, she took a moment to box up the fresh personalities in her mind, compartmentalizing and quieting them. She needed to focus on her own thoughts now. Not waste her time over something that would never happen.
Rogue refocused on the situation unfolding in front of her and saw Remy shoot Logan another look, the red of his eyes still laced with blatant suspicion. Rogue knew that Remy, being an empath, had probably worked out the particulars of the situation before she had. The copper haired mutant sighed, before walking over to Rogue, offering her a gloved hand to help her to her feet, murmuring a “No worries, petit. Remy’s got you now.” She smiled weakly at him. Her legs were wobbly beneath her, but the leg injury was healed. Her arm, too, had stopped throbbing, the first time since she’d been shot.
“You all healed?” Logan grumbled.
“Uhh, yeah,” she said, gripping her arm once more, frowning as she worked out the achy pain that came with her skin stitching itself back together.
“Great. Guess that means you can start pullin’ yer own weight,” he barked roughly, and Rogue’s frown deepened. “Come, both of you. We’ve wasted enough fuckin’ time as it is and we need to find a way out of this shithole.” And with that, Logan turned on his booted heel and began to head back to the shelter.
Rogue shoved away the spark of irritation she felt at Logan’s behavior as she watched him walk away, the deep snow flying behind him, leaving a deep path for them to follow. Remy turned toward her again, placing one arm gently around the small of her back, softly urging her forward. “Après vous, chére.”
The short back to their abandoned shelter passed in silence, Rogue’s mind turning over everything. Remy must have sensed her restlessness, for he tried to engage her in conversation, his voice trailing off as he realized she wasn’t interested in talking. She just wanted to calm her thoughts. Forget the complex threads of emotions and instincts that had been forced upon her, and go back to just being Rogue.
They found themselves back at the cement structure in just a few minutes, the rough sound of metal being slammed into something reaching her sensitive ears. She could make out Logan’s movements inside the walls, could sense the tension coming off him from outside. She could detect her soft scent of sleep on the mattress, mixed with Logan’s and Remy’s, and she heard his rough pacing, the slam of the mattress against the wall as he growled with frustration.
Rogue and Remy strode into the building, stamping off the remnants of snow from their boots. Logan was haphazardly shoving medical gauze and kanteens back in their packs, scouring the shelter for anything else they could use, before he was roughly yanking them closed.
“You need any help?” Rogue asked, trying to break the tension she could sense rolling off him.
Logan only growled, shoving one of the packs in her hands. “Already done,” he said. Rogue’s frown deepened as she gripped the sides of the bag, before turning toward Remy.
“You two enjoy yer stroll through the fuckin’ winter wonderland?” he asked, his voice low and with a dangerous edge. Rogue knew he wasn’t entirely in control of himself right now, he was letting his instincts lead his actions. The fight with the wolves had roused his predatory instincts, and for whatever reason, Logan was having a hell of a time suppressing them.
“Of course, homme,” Remy said smoothly as he turned to face Logan, a sly grin on his face. “Who wouldn’t enjoy such time with ma chére?”
A low snarl of warning issued from his chest at Remy’s words and Logan froze at the blatant challenge in Gambit’s tone.
“Fuck off, bub,” Logan snarled.
“Or what.” It wasn’t a question. Remy had stepped forward, his hand moving toward the now unzipped lining of his coat where Rogue knew he kept his cards.
“You know what, swamp rat,” Logan said as Rogue heard the smooth slide of metal releasing from between his knuckles. “There’s only one way this thing would go, and it begins and ends with me guttin’ yer sorry ass.”
A spark of red fluttered against Gambit’s fingertips as he reached for a card. “I’d like to see you try, le con carcajou.”
“Enough!” Rogue exploded forward and shoved each man back, her temporary borrowed strength allowing her to move even Logan’s heavy frame back a few steps. “I’m beyond sick of this bullshit between you two.”
Logan’s look was fiery as he rounded on Rogue, their eyes locking for one torturous unending moment. Finally, he broke his gaze, sneering at the pair of them as he retracted his claws and stormed out of the shelter, without a word.
“You ride wit’ Remy dis time, chére,” he said as he let the charge between his fingers dissipate in the cold air. “He keep you plenty warm now.”
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” Rogue couldn’t keep the low growl out of her voice, and Remy blinked at her reaction.
“You need some time to let the wolf dissipate, eh?” he asked gently.
Rogue rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the knots of tension in her neck. “Yeah. I really do.” She looked up at him, and gave him a small smile. “Let’s keep moving. I wanna take the world’s longest bath when we get back to the mansion.”
Remy chuckled and moved closer as he held his hand out for her. “And Gambit wants you nice and warm, chére. Let’s go, eh?”
They headed outside to see that Logan had already mounted his snowmobile, offering them nothing more than a tense jerk of his head to tell them to get a move on with it already.
Though the sun had now been up for some time, the sky was so overcast that Rogue could no longer tell which direction they were headed. The roar of Logan’s snowmobile ahead of them filled her ears, and Rogue found herself leaning into the broad planes of Remy’s back, enjoying the small bit of warmth he provided. She let her attention drift as the time passed, trying not to think about Logan’s reaction back at the shelter, or about how much gas was left in the snowmobiles. She suppressed the fierce hunger she felt. Her stomach was growling noisily, her body craving sustenance from the energy it had expended healing itself. Eventually the white landscape darkened into gray, and she sniffed the air suddenly.
“Remy!” She shouted into his ear, trying to be heard above the whine of the engines. He slowed their pace enough for her to speak. “Southeast. I can smell food.”
Remy nodded once as he saw Logan turning as well, and he adjusted their course to follow.
“Oh, god,” Rogue moaned as she sorted through the various smells of cooking food. “I’m starving.”
Remy practically purred in response. “We get you plenty to eat soon, chére.”
Rogue’s heart sank as she noted that Logan was already slowing his snowmobile as they approached the outskirts of the village, obviously intent on not barging into town. Leave it to Logan to want to be subtle now. The smells of civilization were intoxicating, and though Rogue still felt the desire of the wolf to turn away from such noises and smells, her own instincts for food and warmth prevailed. She’d noticed the biting edge of the cold increasing, and while it had been getting steadily darker, she knew that Logan’s healing was beginning to wear off. It had been more than twenty-four hours since they’d been abandoned, and the effects of the elements were beginning to wear on her.
From this distance the village appeared to be nothing more than a few buildings, most of them with sheet metal roofs, it would be enough for them to find food and heat, and maybe, a phone.
Just beyond the backside of one of the buildings on the outskirts, Logan killed the engine. Remy followed suit. They were all quiet as Rogue wearily climbed off the back of the snowmobile, stretching her stiff muscles.
“We’ll stash ‘em here,” Logan grumbled.
Before either of them had a chance to reply, he’d dismounted his ride and trudged forward through the snow, following the stale scents of cigarette smoke, sweat, and beer. He threw open the battered wooden door and the sounds of music and Russian voices met her ears.
“Figures.” Rogue said as they followed behind Logan.
“What figures, chere?” Remy asked curiously as he walked beside her.
She sighed, too tired to sugarcoat anything. “It figures that the first building Logan finds in Siberia is a fuckin’ bar.”
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Chapter End Notes:
And the moral of the story is; STAY AWAY FROM WOLVES. THE END. Just kidding.
Thanks for all the kick-ass feedback and support lately. Sorry for the longer delay in posting. @englishmajor226 had to break a lot of college students’ hearts commenting on papers and posting final grades. And @bluefrog had to tell people how to not suck at their job. It’s been a rough week.
Merry early Christmas! Look for chapter 5 soon, we both have some time off work coming up and plan on collaborating the shit outta this thing!
Thanks for all the kick-ass feedback and support lately. Sorry for the longer delay in posting. @englishmajor226 had to break a lot of college students’ hearts commenting on papers and posting final grades. And @bluefrog had to tell people how to not suck at their job. It’s been a rough week.
Merry early Christmas! Look for chapter 5 soon, we both have some time off work coming up and plan on collaborating the shit outta this thing!