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4721Fic: Mortal Fear (3/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue

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  • karen_feigenbaum <kfeigenb@hotmail.com>
    Feb 15, 2003
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      Title: Mortal Fear
      Author: Karne-age
      Pairing: Logan/Rogue
      Rating: NC-17
      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
      site.
      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
      while longer.

      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
      torso.

      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
      of…emaciated."

      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-
      hunting games."

      "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
      anything."

      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
      legs.

      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
      me."

      "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."