4721Fic: Mortal Fear (3/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue
- Feb 15, 2003Title: Mortal Fear
Series: 3/10 (end of 2: "Just recalling the overpowering scent of her
dripping desire made him hard as granite 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 week.")
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.
Rogue stared intently into her laptop screen; she had to be clever
about this. The man at the front desk had told her there was only
one bank in town, no ATM.
Simple wire transfer, my butt, she thought, gritting her teeth.
Maybe she was getting paranoid after all these years, but over the
past few months, Rogue had begun to feel as though the people chasing
her were getting closer. Closing in. It wasn't any mutant,
heightened sense of alertness. Just a general feeling. Call it a
hunch. Or paranoia, her brain offered gleefully, an idea she
immediately attempted to dismiss. Regardless, in either case, she
wasn't prepared to enact her grand scheme just yet, so she had to
keep running and that meant playing it safe. At least for a little
Rogue had always been suspicious of computer records Lord knew she
exploited them enough to meet her clients' demands. She knew how
much information could be gleaned through them, and she also knew it
was the sort of information she couldn't let the people seeking her
find out. Like her whereabouts. So that meant no credit cards, cash
payments for everything. But accessing the money in her secure
accounts when she was constantly on the run was becoming increasingly
difficult. She'd been forced to revert to some roundabout methods to
make her funds available for inconspicuous withdrawal.
A small-town bank with only one branch and no ATM was a worst-case
scenario as far as Rogue was concerned. If her pursuers somehow
traced the account, they could pinpoint her location. They'd know
exactly where she'd eventually show up and during bankers' hours, at
that. She'd have to channel the funds through a series of dummy
accounts she'd kill as soon as the transfers out were complete.
Rogue was just finishing up with her main account, lost deep in
concentration, when a low voice washed over her like an all-
encompassing black wave. "Shit. Is that your bank balance?" Rogue
gave a small yelp of surprise and slammed the laptop closed; Logan
was hovering over her shoulder. He turned his brutal golden eyes on
her, his gaze imprinting her flesh. "I knew I should have demanded
more than five hundred bucks."
Rogue clenched her teeth together; she hated how lost she became when
she was working. Until she could make her grand plan a reality, it
was dangerous not to be alert at all times. She'd even learned to
sleep lightly, but hacking remained her Achilles' heel. She always
became too blindly enveloped in her electronic ether-world, engulfed
by her thought-processes.
"What the hell are you doing with all that money?" Logan interrogated.
The question caught Rogue off-guard. "I'm going to build a home with
a state-of-the art security system," she blurted out, then closed her
eyes in disappointment. God, was she so eager for someone to talk to
that she'd just tell him anything? Rogue felt completely off-
balance; she needed to regain some semblance of self-control here.
Logan eyed her skeptically. "Sounds lonely. Fortresses might keep
people out, but they also lock you inside."
Rogue had never really thought of it like that. "Maybe being
quarantined isn't such a bad thing," she said glumly. "My mutation
makes me dangerous to other people." She looked up at Logan, her
eyes large and heavy with heartache. A thick silence stretched
between them. Rogue dropped her gaze.
"Here," he said, tossing a candy bar into her lap. "I thought you
might be hungry. It's been a while since that burger." Logan had a
half-eaten candy bar in his own hand, which he finished off in a
single, solid swallow.
Rogue's stomach growled at the thought. She really needed to eat
more regularly. But for the past three years, either her stomach had
been tied in knots with worry or she'd been too caught up doing work
to take notice of her body's need for nourishment. She'd lost quite
a bit of weight since she'd begun running weight she hadn't really
been able to afford losing. But once Rogue could build her
protective home, she'd have all the time in the world to nurture
herself back to health.
"Thanks," she replied far too enthusiastically, tonguing her lips,
ripping the wrapper off. When she bit into the chocolate-caramel
concoction, her eyes literally rolled back into her head and a low
groan of satisfaction purred in her throat. She wolfed it down at a
break-neck speed and didn't stop until she'd licked her fingers free
of the melted chocolate left behind.
"You should eat better," Logan said, his eyes dropping to her gaunt
Rogue felt a sharp pang of insecurity and shame. Not that she could
have done anything physical with the man anyway, but his comment
still hurt. She wondered what he'd have thought of her if she were
built more like that top-heavy waitress, Kelly. "I'm sorry I don't
meet your stringent requirements," she replied in a stung voice.
Logan's expression was indiscernible. "Just eat more. You look kind
Ouch! God, was he totally oblivious to common social decency? There
were some things you just didn't say! "Thank you so much for
pointing out my inadequate body," she railed. "I'm sorry if I've
been so busy running scared for the past three years that my non-stop
worry has left my appearance below your demanding standards. But
like I said, you can't touch me anyway, so it really doesn't matter
if you think I'm scrawny!"
Frustration and anguish expanded like a balloon within Rogue until
her skin felt stretched taut with it. Heat jetted through her
veins. She leapt off the bed and moved swiftly for the door. Logan
grabbed her by the elbow crook. Rogue immediately panicked but then
remembered she was wearing long sleeves and relaxed. She tried to
yank her arm free, but he had it inextricably locked in his
grasp. "Marie," he said in a low voice. "Who's chasing you?"
"Let go of me," she hissed.
"Who's chasing you, Marie?" Logan again insisted.
Their gazes locked and Rogue felt the fight drain out of her. The
energy and anger firing through her system mere moments before seemed
to seep away until she felt almost languid with exhaustion. She
exhaled. "My parents. With the sponsorship of their creepy new
buddies, the Friends of Humanity," she added sardonically.
Logan's sharp eyes narrowed and his jaw set, giving his appearance a
cast of aggressive ferocity. "I know those FoH pieces of shit," he
growled thickly. "They've got a lot of resources for their mutant-
"Believe me, it's far from a game to those jerks," she sneered. Then
she softly added, "And lately "
When she paused, Logan pressed, "What?"
"Well, lately, I've just had this weird feeling like they're they're
getting closer." Rogue couldn't seem to lift her eyes enough to look
at Logan. "But then again, lately I've also begun feeling like I'm
becoming totally paranoid."
"It could probably go either way."
Rogue suddenly found the reserves to look up. "You think I'm crazy,
don't you! That it's all in my head!" Why not? she chided herself.
She'd certainly begun thinking it herself recently.
"I didn't say that," he soothed. "I actually think people ignore
their gut instincts too often. But, you've also been running for a
long time now. Your fear and suspicions are probably strung pretty
tight Like I said, it could go either way."
Rogue stared at Logan's chest and nodded dumbly. He still had his
jacket on, and she could smell the mixed scents of leather and
tobacco and something intrinsically masculine. The combination went
straight to her head; she wanted to lean in and draw deep breaths of
him. Resentment that she couldn't churned bitterly in her stomach.
"Go to bed," Logan said, with surprising tenderness. "We've got a
long day of driving ahead tomorrow."
"Where are you going to sleep?" Rogue asked in dejection.
"Next to you. Relax I'm not gonna put any moves on you or
Unfortunately, she knew that. He'd already made it painfully clear
just how little her skinny body turned him on. "What if I
accidentally touch you during the night?" she contested weakly.
"I'm pretty durable. Besides, you're practically covered from head-
to-toe, Marie," Logan said, eying her from her sock-clad feet to her
long-sleeved top. He smiled his cocky half-grin and tacked
on, "You're just being paranoid."
Rogue knew he was baiting her with that last statement, but she was
too tired to do justice to an argument. The corner of her mouth
crooked up ruefully and she nodded her reluctant acquiescence,
mumbling, "Okay," as she climbed into bed, suddenly aware of just how
palpable her exhaustion was. Slumber enshrouded her in a dark veil
the moment her head hit the pillow.
The next morning, Rogue awoke curled up against her boyfriend. She
felt toasty and drowsy and safe; she couldn't remember the last time
she'd rested so soundly. She ran her hand up and down the heated,
masculine chest in front of her. It was strong not like that of a
gym-defined model in a Diet Coke commercial just a naturally powerful
physique. Her fingers combed through the crisp hair found there and
desire warmed between her thighs. Her body quickened.
Keeping her eyes closed, deliberately clinging to the pleasant state
of half-sleep, Rogue nuzzled her nose into the shoulder crook in
front of her. She dragged her lips down a muscular plane and swirled
her tongue around one flat nipple. He stirred when she began sucking
and nibbling there, a scratchy sound of morning lust rolling in his
throat. God, she was incredibly aroused! Why did it feel like an
eternity since she'd had sex? Liquid desire pooled wetly between her
Rogue arched cat-like, rolling her body along his. Hands found their
way up under her shirt and cupped her breasts. She swelled to fill
his palms; her nipples twisted erect. Something hot corded tight
within her loins and she gasped her pleasure.
Suddenly, the hands exploring her body froze. Every fiber of Rogue's
being protested. No! His thick, morning hard-on was stabbing her in
the stomach, so she scooted up enough to straddle it. Gripping the
shaft between her inner thighs, she proceeded to glide back and forth
along his length.
The sweet smell of Rogue's lust swamped Logan's senses. He was
drowning in her hot, wet scent it was like she was in heat. And she
was all over him, particularly those lush lips of hers, doing things
that made him want to push her down to where they could be most
effective. Shit! His sexual need right then was a sharp urgency
like he'd never experienced before. He wanted to strip her raw and
fuck her into a coma.
Rogue continued to rub herself up and down his throbbing erection,
still loosely trapped in his boxers. A frustrated groan tore from
his chest. Logan inhaled deeply and once again the smell of her pure
hunger flooded his head until he was drunk and dizzy on it. Christ,
she was so wet! No woman should smell so tempting: sweet and salty
and drugging, like a margarita. Shit, shit, shit! Rogue's teeth
nipped ferociously at his throat, her hands were all over his bare
chest, her thighs rode and squeezed his arousal. His own hands were
still hovering above her breasts, just itching to feel those tight
nipples stabbing into his palms again. He was surrounded. Nowhere
to run; nowhere to hide.
Oh, fuck it, his brain surrendered, and Logan gave over to the acute
demand gripping his body. His mouth came down fiercely on her neck
and his fingers curled around her pert breasts. The tangy clean
taste of Rogue's skin inundated his mouth and swam across his taste
buds. He felt savage and violent and hungry. His dick was pulsing
painfully, the pressure building, pounding at the base of his spine.
Desire knifed through his body down to the arches of his feet. Fuck,
he wanted her!
She had too many clothes on. They'd supposedly been for his
protection, but apparently he was immune to Rogue's mutation. He
thrust one hand down the front of her sweatpants, his questing
fingers seeking the tight knot of pleasure tucked between her legs.
He wanted to make her slick and ready for him as quickly as
possible. "Yes," she sobbed dreamily. "Oh God, I want you inside
"Doing my best to oblige, here," Logan assured her. When he touched
a finger to her damp heat, Rogue's eyes fluttered open and she drew
back slightly. For one infinite moment, those dark, liquid pools
stared at him in wonder.
And then the acrid scent of undiluted fear assaulted him. Logan felt
a hard, internal tug, and suddenly it was as though every cell in his
body were ripping apart at the molecular level. Pain tore through
him like a wildfire across his nerve-endings. He was burning alive
being shredded from the inside out. He roared at the singeing
torture. It was suffering like he'd never experienced before, in its
purest, most unadulterated form. High-voltage veins spidered
lightening out through his skin.
Rogue yanked her body back from their contact and the pain cut off
abruptly, like sound captured in a vacuum. Logan felt weak and
woozy, as though he'd been knocked on his ass and were being held
down by lead weights. Rogue was saying something, but he couldn't
make sense of the string of words muddling through his cottony
brain. She was probably lecturing him for having taken advantage of
her, he suspected, but he just couldn't get his mind straight enough
to sort it all out. Logan attempted to apologize, but the words
didn't want to form coherently; his tongue felt thick. He tried to
sit up and had to put a hand on the bed to stabilize himself. Whoa.
He shook his head in attempt to expel the dense fog blanketing it.
The mental haze finally lifted enough for him to see Rogue curled
into a ball with her eyes closed, a single phrase pouring repeatedly
from her mouth. "Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay,
please be okay."