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4720Fic: Mortal Fear (2/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue

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  • karen_feigenbaum <karen_feigenbaum@yahoo
    Feb 15, 2003
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      Title: Mortal Fear
      Author: Karne-age
      Pairing: Logan/Rogue
      Rating: NC-17
      Series: 2/10 (end of 1: "The two of them traveled quietly for a few
      minutes before passing a billboard advertising a burger joint at an
      upcoming rest stop. Logan wordlessly pulled into the exit lane.")
      Feedback: yes please
      Warnings: language, sex...maybe a bit violent in later installments.
      Archive: by all means e-mail me if you would like to post on your
      Disclaimer: Naturally, I do not own the Marvel characters - the story
      and characters and their histories are a blending of Movie-verse and
      Comic-verse lore mixed in with a big old heapin' helping of my own
      imagination (Karne-iverse) that totally brutalizes existing histories
      wherever I felt it made my story.
      Summary: Logan and Rogue meet; end up on the run from the Friends of
      Humanity. Interesting twist to Rogue's mutation.

      "Hey, sugar. Long time, no see."

      Rogue looked up from her menu to find their red-haired waitress
      addressing Logan. His gaze lifted and he gave the woman a brisk nod
      of recognition.

      "Oh, hey…" his eyes darted to the server's nametag, "…Kelly. Yeah.
      Long time. Good to see you."

      If Kelly noticed Logan's lapse in memory, she showed no outward
      signs. "You'll be wanting your usual?" she asked perkily. Her large
      breasts bounded with every movement. They were barely confined in
      the snug pink uniform as it was, and they looked prepared to make a
      break for freedom at the slightest hint of encouragement.

      "Yeah, that's fine," he growled and stood up, announcing, "I'm gonna
      hit the can."

      "Ew! Thanks for the update," Rogue snapped in distaste. She
      returned her attention to Kelly and ordered her meal. "I'll have a
      burger, medium-well, and a glass of water with a slice of lemon. And
      could I get some dijon mustard on the side?"

      "Sure thing, sweetie" Kelly responded, writing the order down. She
      turned to leave, but then seemed to have second thoughts. She leaned
      over, her deep cleavage practically right in Rogue's face. After
      looking to make sure Logan was safely in the bathroom, Kelly
      conspiratorially whispered, "I know it's none of my business, but I…
      uh…well, I feel like I should kind of, like…warn you…"

      "Warn me…?" Rogue inquired. She tried not to inhale the overzealous
      perfume in which Kelly must have just recently bathed. The musky
      odor hung in a heavy cloud around the woman, and Rogue had to
      restrain herself from coughing rudely. The sharp scent actually
      pinpricked tears in her eyes.

      Kelly sighed and leaned in further, guiltily looking both ways before
      continuing. "Look, he's a good guy and all, but, uh, if you're
      planning on having sex with him, you should know that he gets, like,
      freaky intense in bed. It's kind of creepy."

      Rogue's eyes grew huge. She did *not* want to hear this! The last
      thing she needed to know about was Logan's sexual history with this
      over-stuffed redhead! "Yeah, um, thanks. I have no immediate plans
      to sleep with Logan, but I appreciate the heads up. I'll keep it in
      mind should my intentions change," she bit out a touch too acidly.

      Kelly shrugged. "Just figured I'd let you know."

      The attention of both women suddenly redirected to Logan's approach.
      His return seemed a little too quick to Rogue, and she wondered in
      disgust if he'd even bothered to wash his hands. "Can we get this to
      go?" His unnerving gaze raked over Rogue. "Gotta make good road
      time for my client."

      Kelly smiled brightly for him and replied, "Sure thing, sugar."

      "Great." He gave a small head twitch to indicate Rogue and
      added, "She'll pay."

      Rogue leaned her elbow on the passenger's side door to prop up her
      drooping head. She was completely exhausted. In hindsight, she
      could see that she'd probably come very near to risking her life out
      in the cold. Only now, hours later, was she finally feeling a
      complete return of sensation in her extremities. The cab's lulling
      heat and her recently filled belly were draining the last of her
      energy. She was lingering on that sweet border between sleep and
      lucidity, marveling at the feeling of pure, warm safety radiating out
      from her stomach in a steady thrum.

      Rogue hadn't felt this sense of contentment in years. Not that it
      was much in an objective sense, but relatively speaking, it was the
      most she'd had in a very long time. Conversation between her and
      Logan had been limited to a level of superficiality she assumed was
      typically shared between a driver and an unknown passenger. Not that
      she knew for sure…she'd never actually hitched a ride before…and she
      still didn't really know *why* she'd thought hitching a ride from him
      was a good idea. Regardless, Rogue hadn't talked to anyone in such a
      long time. It felt kind of nice.

      Maybe it was partly because they were both mutants, Rogue
      speculated. Logan could empathize with her loneliness. He'd
      understand that combined look of disgust and terror in people's eyes
      when they discovered "the dirty little secret." He probably had the
      same driving urgency to keep moving, for fear of being discovered or
      unintentionally hurting someone. Or maybe he had people tracking him
      down, too. Whatever the reason, she felt a more substantial bond
      with him than she suspected she would have with any random, non-
      mutant guy just driving a rig.

      Also, at some point during the few hours in his company, Rogue had
      lost her wariness of Logan. Sure, he was an imposing figure, and she
      had little doubt that he often followed through on his tacit
      threats. But towards her, he seemed all bluff and bluster.

      In fact, she realized in her half-dozing state, she definitely felt
      something altogether different than fear towards Logan. Rogue's
      heavy eyelids lifted enough for her to slant a sidelong glance at
      him. There was a quality to Logan that was, for lack of a better
      descriptor, ruggedly sexy. His square features weren't remotely
      handsome, but he was dark and primal and thoroughly masculine. And
      his amber gaze made heat chase along her spine, zapping clear down to
      her toes. Without question, he was a total grade-A jerk, but the
      thought burned through her brain that Logan would be devastatingly
      hot in bed.

      Rogue bolted a hundred percent awake. Whoa! Where did an idea like
      that come from? Her self-imposed restriction from physical human
      contact had been achingly difficult these past three years, but not
      once since her mutation developed had Rogue fantasized sexually.
      She'd been too caught up in the drama of running away from her
      parents and their scary new friends…too wrapped up in the misery of
      loneliness and of being held prisoner by her own skin…too involved in
      trying to enact her master plan. She hadn't had the mental room to
      really indulge in sexual urges. But then again, she was only human.
      Well, sort of, anyway. It was probably just the result of a synaptic
      misfire, Rogue decided, created by Kelly's words of "warning."

      But on the other hand, had Rogue thought her hormones had up and died
      instead of merely retreating into dormancy? Maybe a nice little
      fantasy was just what she needed.

      Biting her lower lip, Rogue studied Logan. He was strong – her
      imagination didn't have to work hard to picture the sinewy muscle
      roping his body. She could envision his hard power hovering above
      her, thrusting into her. The sweating and grunting. Heat and
      adrenaline slipped into her bloodstream at the mental image, kicking
      her heart rate up a notch. Logan would ride her roughly…thoroughly…
      back and forth, again and again until she'd ache with the need to
      explode. His mouth would feast greedily on her breasts, gnawing with
      tender ferocity, his possessive teeth sinking into her skin.

      The thought lit up a hot wire of electricity from her nipples
      straight to her loins. A small gasp escaped Rogue's throat and she
      felt a gush of moist heat between her legs.

      In the driver's seat, Logan's head slammed around to look at her, as
      if he'd caught her committing a crime red-handed. At his gold
      flashing glare, Rogue's sexual enjoyment morphed into instantaneous
      guilt. She catapulted upright in shock, then shrank into her seat
      and gulped back her mortification.

      Oh God, her brain panicked, can he read other people's thoughts?
      Maybe it was one of his mutant powers. Had he just witnessed that
      little mental movie of hers? Rogue quickly forced her mind's eye to
      conjure up an image of Logan in a fluffy pink dress with tiny
      pigtails in his hair, skipping through a park trailing a balloon
      after him. The idea was so completely ludicrous she couldn't help
      but burst out in giggles. Logan was still staring at her
      accusatorily, apparently finding nothing humorous. "What's so
      amusing?" he demanded gruffly. Scratch the idea that he could read

      Rogue shook her head and tried to stifle the laughter, without
      success. The more she attempted to repress it, the more she saw
      those stupid pigtails and that lacy pink frock until she was rolling
      on the seat in uncontrollable hysterics. Logan shook his head. "You
      are totally fucking psycho, woman."

      Around midnight, Logan pulled off the highway to find lodging. The
      next exit wasn't for another hundred fifty kilometers, and the last
      one had been over seventy back. Logan had never been a city guy –
      too many people – but small towns sort of pissed him off. At that
      point, he figured he was better off in the wilderness.

      But his sugar mommy was coughing up the bucks for a motel room, and
      Logan was not about to forego a free night on a real mattress. The
      futon pad in the back of his cab was comfortable enough, but it had
      its limitations. There was definitely something to being able to
      sprawl across a full-sized bed…

      The backwater stopover was so ridiculously tiny it only qualified as
      a township under the most liberal of definitions. But its small size
      did nothing to change the fact that when they got to the motel's
      front desk, they were told there was only one more room
      available. "Excuse me?" Logan spat back incredulously to the desk
      clerk. "Since when did East Bumblefuck become a goddamned tourist

      Rogue placed a gloved hand on his arm in restraint. "Forgive my
      companion. He's just curious how such a small town could have so
      many visitors."

      The scrunched up gnome behind the counter looked nervously at Logan
      and then back at Rogue. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Look,
      we're the last stop in front of that long stretch of highway," the
      man whined pathetically. He cleared his throat. "We get a lot of
      travelers who want to sleep before they get to the next exit."

      "Shit," Logan cursed. "Fine, we'll take the room. She'll pay you,"
      he concluded, jamming a thumb in Rogue's direction. Fury crept up
      her neck and streaked red stains across her face. Logan turned to
      the door to go outside for a smoke, leaving behind one scared little
      piece of shit and one royally ticked-off-looking woman.

      When she finally joined him outside, Rogue did not look
      happy. "Would you mind telling me," she fumed in leashed
      agitation, "how you intend for us to sleep in one room? And I'll
      give you a hint: your answer better include either the phrase I sleep
      in my truck or I sleep on the floor."

      Logan flashed her a devilish grin. "What if instead it includes the
      phrase fuck like small woodland creatures?"

      Watching the red blotches color her cheeks, Logan was tempted to add
      something about how she should be up for the tumble, considering how
      hot she'd been in his truck. Christ, the smell of her! Her
      scorching wetness had instantly suffused the air, the thick odor
      overwhelming him so entirely he could practically taste her. It was
      the most sexual scent he'd ever smelled coming off a woman…and it had
      gushed off her in waves.

      Logan unconsciously licked his lips and looked into her face.
      Nothing about Rogue was conventionally pretty. At first glance, she
      was like innocence personified, with that prim Southern accent and
      those dark, drowning pool eyes…and Logan had never exactly been one
      for innocence. But further inspection revealed those deep optic
      pools held faint glints of nasty promises, the mere thought of which
      made him rock hard. Maybe it was the contrast. Or maybe it was
      those plump, dick-sucking lips of hers.

      "In case I haven't made it clear," Rogue drawled
      imperiously, "physical contact with me isn't even a remote
      possibility. So I hate to burst your oh-so implausible bubble, but
      there will be no fuck-like-small-woodland-creatures festivities

      It was downright comical hearing the word fuck stated so prudishly,
      especially coming from such a sexual-looking mouth. Logan smirked at
      her. "That's too bad. You look like you'd be a real freak in the
      sack. Could be fun."

      Fury again splashed across Rogue's face. She made a sound of
      frustrated disgust and threw her arms in the air, then spun on her
      heel and strode indignantly to the room. Logan smiled smugly from
      ear to ear as he trailed after her.

      As soon as they walked into the motel accommodations, Rogue made a
      beeline for the bathroom, passing the single bed without so much as a
      glance. "I'm going to take a shower," she announced, refusing to
      look back as she marched regally into the tiny room, her bag still
      strapped to her shoulder. The door shut behind her somewhat
      forcefully. Seconds later, Logan heard the taps running. He flopped
      onto his back on the bed, the mattress springs groaning beneath him,
      and he grabbed the remote to turn on HBO. Logan moaned in disgust –
      it would be "Battlefield Earth."

      Rogue emerged a half-hour later, her skin flushed pink. Her hair
      hung long in damp tendrils around her scrubbed face, and she was
      dressed in loose, gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved, cream t-shirt.
      Wrapped in the figure-hugging top, the silhouette of her body was
      easily discernable – she was a bit too thin and had below-average-
      sized tits.

      There shouldn't have been anything remotely arousing about Rogue's
      ordinary appearance just then, but damn if Logan wasn't suddenly
      sporting the hard-on of the century packed tightly into his jeans.
      The smell of clean female curled temptingly at his nose. A dark,
      primitive urge surged through his blood and sent him bolting to a
      standing position. Shit, he cursed internally. Hot saliva stung his
      tongue and lust grabbed him hard by the balls.

      "I'm going for a walk," Logan declared in a rough voice and he
      reached for his jacket. Rogue barely looked his way, instead busying
      herself removing a laptop computer from her knapsack and unwrapping a
      tangle of important-looking cables. "Okay," she replied
      distractedly, tucking her wet hair behind one ear. The mingled
      scents of soap and woman kept tickling his senses. Logan simply
      stood there for a moment, expecting something else to be
      communicated, but Rogue just continued unraveling what looked like a
      phone cord. He curled his hands into fists and walked out the door.

      Logan stepped out into the brisk cold, hoping it would help cool the
      spicy blood pooling hotly in his crotch. Why was he reacting so
      strongly to Rogue? There was nothing remotely special about her.
      Maybe it was the idea that she was some kind of forbidden fruit…that
      she couldn't be touched. Logan had never been good with rules or
      being told not to do something. Christ, was he making her into some
      kind of fucking challenge?

      Or maybe that wasn't it at all. Just recalling the overpowering
      scent of her dripping desire made him hard as granite. Maybe it was
      because he couldn't remember the last time he'd smelled so much hot
      hunger soaking a woman's panties he'd wanted to screw her into next

      Yeah – it probably had something to do with that second reason.