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4725Fic: Mortal Fear (6/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue

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  • karen_feigenbaum <kfeigenb@hotmail.com>
    Feb 17, 2003
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      Title: Mortal Fear
      Author: Karne-age
      Pairing: Logan/Rogue
      Rating: NC-17
      Series: 6/10 (end of 5: Muttering a curse under his breath, Logan
      slipped outside to get a smoke. He slammed the driver's side door
      behind him)
      Feedback: yes please
      Warnings: language, sex, a bit violent.
      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.


      When the windows defogged enough to see outside, Rogue spotted the
      top of Logan's head over the hood of the truck. His back was to her;
      he was leaning rigidly against the grill sucking down a cigarette.
      Despite the fact that Rogue had never inhaled so much as a single
      drag in her life, she was still buzzing on enough straggling Logan
      leftovers to actually crave a post-coital smoke. The thought of
      nicotine and tar swirling through her lungs in soothing eddies
      sounded mouthwateringly seductive.

      The man was ticked off…and not without good reason, either, Rogue
      sourly noted as she crossed her arms under her breasts and slumped
      back into the seat. But he'd been such a world-class jerk-wad,
      something inside her had kind of snapped and she'd bared her teeth in
      response. It hadn't mattered, though; Logan was too instinctually
      intelligent, and he'd known exactly what to say to lash her to the
      bone, further fueling her irritation. Damn him! Rogue was dying to
      chalk up her aggravation to his temperament still scalding through
      her system like lava, but she knew she'd already come down too far
      from that high to blame her foul mood on it.

      God, his strength had been like liquid fire inside her veins. Hot
      and wild and primitive and demanding…a sensation any heroine junkie
      would salivate over. Rogue covered her face with her hands and
      cringed. The things she'd said; worse yet, done! She'd been like an
      unleashed creature. Positively wanton! Rogue had never been a
      prude, but she'd certainly never had sex like a rutting beast before,
      clawing madly at a man and climaxing with such shattering force and
      speed. In the front seat of a semi, no less!

      But the question that kept drumming through her brain was, now that
      she was back to supposed normality, why didn't the thought of
      repeating that hard, hot sex sound even remotely unappealing?
      Because, for some unimaginable reason, conjuring up mental replays of
      her and Logan's performance made only darts of excitement shoot hotly
      between her thighs…without so much as an ounce of disgust. Had she
      absorbed something permanent off of him? Somehow incorporated his
      libidinous crudity into her personality? After all, even though her
      overall strength always increased a little when she drew a person's
      power, she'd been able to shove Logan backwards almost effortlessly.
      She'd already taken two sizeable pulls off him, perhaps his energy
      was just stockpiling within her.

      And he was such a deliciously strong man. Juicy strength that made
      her press her legs together hard to restrain the aching pangs
      generating at their apex. Rogue had been right: Logan was incredibly
      intense when it came to sex. And he'd wanted to go a second time,
      she remembered. Maybe more than that. A shiver rippled up her skin
      at the sudden thought. Why couldn't she have held onto that
      fearlessness just a little longer?

      Rogue sighed in exasperation. He hated her now, she realized,
      watching the back of his head. He thought she was as creeped out by
      the ferocity of his lovemaking as any of those other women. She
      didn't exactly have names, dates, or even faces, but Rogue knew there
      had been a good number of others. And they'd all been frightened of
      him…at least a little. Logan had always smelled it.

      It wasn't fair! Rogue's fear was neither of Logan nor his sexual
      intensity. Her mutation just made her afraid when *anyone* came near
      enough to touch her. She loathed that adage about life not always
      being fair. She sighed again. He was right: she could keep telling
      herself that it had been his energy making her so licentious, but
      she'd wanted him before she'd ever laid a hand on him. Before she'd
      drunk so much as a single drop of his delectable aggression. And
      she'd wanted him in a way that would make any respectable Southern
      belle blush furiously. She'd wanted him so badly she could taste it.

      Rogue continued watching the back of Logan's head. He kept raking
      his fingers back through his thick, black hair. She'd thought he
      wasn't handsome when she first saw him. She'd thought his face was
      too angular, too stern and set. His jaw was almost perfectly square,
      as if chiseled from stone. His mouth too feral…his nose looked as
      though it had been broken and healed countless times. And his biting
      eyes could cut glass. A small smile touched her lips – he was the
      sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

      Plus, he had those strong, perfectly bowed, not-too-thin-not-too-full
      lips that sucked at her mouth in a way that made her knees melt
      bonelessly. And that was to say nothing of his powerful body.
      Whew! What a man. A girl could overheat just thinking about it.

      Rogue was suddenly shaken out of her adolescent fantasizing when she
      saw Logan's attention jerk up as if he sensed something. His head
      slammed sharply right; his nostrils flared in and out, trying to pick
      up a scent. Rogue shifted in her seat and leaned forward.

      Without warning, a huge dog – or wolf or *something* – leapt onto
      Logan. Rogue felt terror grip her bowels and turn her legs to
      water. Huge didn't begin to cover it; this thing looked like a mass
      of coiled muscle and slobbering, gnashing teeth. It knocked Logan to
      the ground in front of the truck, and out of Rogue's range of
      visibility. Her heart jumped into her throat and the bottom fell out
      of her stomach.

      Prompted by sheer adrenaline, she flung the cab door open and dropped
      to her feet outside. Rogue ran around to the front of the truck and
      saw Logan grappling with the gigantic animal. It was snapping its
      fangs aggressively towards Logan's throat. Even though it wasn't
      human, the thought instantly popped into Rogue's mind that she might
      be able to drain it of its energy. She didn't know what might
      happen, but she knew she had to try…for Logan's sake, at least.

      Unfortunately, man and beast were rolling around so frantically she
      wasn't sure how to get her hand wedged in there. Taking a few
      tentative steps closer while removing one glove, Rogue approached the
      snarling mess of entangled fighters. Logan saw her and his eyes
      popped large in surprise. "Behind you!" he called out in warning.

      But before she could turn around, pain exploded against the back of
      Rogue's head. She saw bright blobs spot in front of her eyes…
      followed by a bottomless sinkhole of blackness.





      Still struggling with the animal, Logan watched as a man smashed a
      long chunk of wood against the base of Rogue's skull. She collapsed
      into a pile like a lifeless flour sack; the man grabbed her beneath
      her arms and began dragging her off the road to his vehicle.

      A high-voltage current of raw, angry power surged through Logan's
      veins. His hand curled into a fist, and he drove it into the side of
      his opponent's head. The feel of solid meat and bone met his
      knuckles and the dog flew off him, landing on the ground with a
      whining animal whimper. The thing appeared incapacitated, which was
      in its favor, because Logan had been prepared to slice the stupid
      beast to little doggie bits if a filleting had been necessary.

      Turning his attention back to the man who'd swiped Rogue, Logan saw
      the bastard folding her legs hurriedly into the back seat of his
      car. Logan stomped a path to the vehicle, curled a hand around the
      guy's throat from behind, spun him around, and slammed him up against
      the driver's side door. "Talk," he growled in unleashed fury.

      The man made a few croaking noises and clawed impotently at Logan's
      arm. His dangling feet made weak attempts at kicking Logan's shins.
      Forcibly letting some of his fury drain, Logan lowered the man until
      his feet touched ground. Information could hardly be extracted from
      someone whose trachea had been crushed, after all. "Let's try this
      again," Logan fumed, reining back his rage. "Talk!"

      After a sharp inhalation, the man started sputtering. "Others –
      right behind me. Be here – soon." His fingers were still wrapped
      and twitching around Logan's large hand, attempting to pull it
      entirely away from his breathing passage.

      "Who?" Logan seethed.

      "Others. Got here first – had dog. Creed…gave go ahead…" he
      panted. He paused again to gasp violently.

      Graydon Creed! Logan's brain pounded out. The Fucking Friends of
      Humanity! "How'd you find her?"

      "Bank…account," the man choked out.

      With a quick draw and flick of his fist, Logan jabbed the guy hard in
      the face, his front knuckles driving into soft tissue. Blood burst
      and the man slithered unconsciously into a useless puddle at Logan's
      feet. Logan hauled Rogue out of the backseat. In the spirit of
      saving time, he'd have slung her over her shoulder if not for the
      head injury. As it was, he cradled her in his arms, mounted into the
      truck, and buckled her up as hastily but as gently as possible,
      attempting to minimize her movement.

      He hit the gas and the truck took off like a bat out of hell.
      Graydon Creed was a dangerous man – he was smart and strong and had a
      whole fucking army of redneck idiots ready to perpetrate his mutant
      hate crimes. How the fuck had the FoH found them in the middle of a
      deserted interstate? The question nagged at Logan.

      Okay, so Rogue had opened an account in Podunk, Alberta, and they'd
      found her through that. Logan reasoned that there had only been one
      highway in and out of that town – the bastards must have tracked it
      in either direction! The guy who'd attacked them was probably only
      scouting ahead and hadn't been intended as some kind of vanguard. He
      must have just seen a perfect opportunity while Logan and Rogue were
      pulled over.

      Logan knew he had to get off the main road…start taking back road to
      connecting back road until the FoH didn't have a clue where he'd
      gone. Jesus! Rogue must have spent the last few years barely a step
      in front of these assholes. Logan risked a glance at her and tapped
      her on the cheek with a few unsuccessful attempts to rouse her.
      Dammit, he needed to get somewhere safe – quickly – so he could
      examine her injuries.

      At the first exit, Logan left the highway.





      "Marie?" Logan asked, brushing a clump of her long hair away from her
      face.

      Rogue's eyes fluttered open; she smiled serenely at him. "Logan,"
      she drawled calmly.

      The corner of his mouth hitched up. She said his name as if she'd
      done nothing more than run into him at afternoon tea. He continued
      massaging the palm of her hand with his thumb. "How ya feeling,
      sweetheart?"

      Rogue tried to sit up, then winced at the pain and sank back into the
      bed. "Ow," she complained, rubbing the nape of her neck with her
      free hand. "My head feels like I was hit by a boulder."

      "Actually, a two by four," Logan growled. "I think you had a
      concussion."

      Her eyes tried focusing on the room around her. "Where are we?"

      "A motel. I took us about a hundred fifty kilometers into the middle
      of nowhere."

      "Why?" she asked, her voice quavering in worry.

      "The Friends of Humanity," Logan exhaled. "You were right to be
      paranoid."

      Fear sprang large in Rogue's eyes and a sudden wall of its odor
      punched Logan in the face. She yanked her hand out of his.

      "Here," he offered, placing his hand near hers on the sheet covering
      her. "Take a quick hit off of me. It'll fix your injury up in no
      time."

      She shook her head obstinately then flinched at the resulting pain.

      Logan chafed at her stubbornness. "Think of Manhattan – Times
      Square – teeming with people," he crooned, "you caught in the middle
      of the jumble. You're only wearing shorts and a tank top.
      Everyone's jostling you."

      Logan smelled her anxiety building, but still she refused to move her
      hand. Impatience spurted hotly in his stomach, and he pressed one
      finger to her bare flesh. In the span of a heartbeat, excruciating
      pain tore through him, knives of acid shredding his skin from the
      inside. But the sensation ended just as abruptly as it had begun
      when she immediately jerked back her arm. The entire incident was so
      short-lived, he shook off the after-effects in a matter of seconds.

      Rogue sat up and rolled her neck a few times. She shot him a rueful
      smile indicating her healed state as well as her disapproval of his
      doctoring methods. "Hey, um… Thanks. For saving me back there, I
      mean. I owe you."

      "I can think of a few positions you can use to pay me back," he said
      grinning.

      A small muscle ticked in Rogue's jaw, but in no other way did she
      acknowledge his comment. "Should we be worried about the Friends of
      Humanity finding us here?" she asked, jumping off the bed.

      "I don't think so," Logan responded. "I was pretty good about
      exiting frequently."

      "Where's my bag?"

      "Over there," Logan answered, indicating the closet.

      She nodded. "Could you give me a couple minutes to shower and
      change? I feel kind of grubby."

      "Sure," he responded, settling himself into his chair. Logan
      stretched his legs out long in front of him, crossing his feet at the
      ankles. His hands clasped behind his head.

      Rogue raised an eyebrow and glared at him. "A few minutes *alone*?"

      "Nothing I haven't seen already."

      Rogue's composure held, but her skin turned beet red. "That may be
      true," she claimed with an edge to her voice, "but it's nothing I
      feel comfortable showing off right now."

      "You should. Show it off," he clarified. "You have a great body."

      "If I recall, you said I looked emaciated. And you told me I have a
      bony ass."

      The contrast of hearing curse words come out in her taut, demure
      accent always amused Logan. He couldn't help but shoot her a snarky
      grin. "Either it was before I knew better or I was lying because
      you'd pissed me off. Besides, your DSLs could make up for all matter
      of failings."

      "My Digital Subscriber Lines?" she asked, halting her search through
      her bag to stand up and look at him in complete bewilderment.

      "Dick-Sucking Lips," he casually corrected.

      Shock landed like a slap across her face. "God! You're positively…
      shameless!"

      "Yeah," he taunted, "but who all but molested me in the front seat of
      my own truck?"

      Rogue's dark eyes grew huge and her jaw set in fury. Words seemed to
      fail her until she spat out, "You suck!"

      Logan tossed her a toothy grin and leaned forward. "True, but I do
      it so well. And if you're extra nice to me, I'll even let you be the
      lucky recipient of my expertise." He wagged his eyebrows at her.
      Rogue's moist scent quickly drenched the air, and an unexpected rush
      of heated blood lanced through Logan's groin. Christ, he really
      wanted nothing more than to lick and suck at her until she melted
      across his tongue. She'd taste all hot and salty and drip like honey.

      "Arg!" Rogue cried out in frustrated defeat. She slapped a hand to
      her forehead and clenched her eyes closed. After a fortifying
      inhalation, she lifted her eyelids and pointed to the door. "Get
      out," she groaned.