Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

4726Fic: Mortal Fear (7/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue

Expand Messages
  • karen_feigenbaum <kfeigenb@hotmail.com>
    Feb 18, 2003
    • 0 Attachment
      Title: Mortal Fear
      Author: Karne-age
      Pairing: Logan/Rogue
      Rating: NC-17
      Series: 7/10 (end of 6: 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.")
      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.


      As it turned out, Logan had gotten them two separate rooms with a
      connecting door. When Rogue emerged from the shower, a small motel
      towel tucked tightly under her arms, Logan was back in her room
      again. He was leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his
      broad chest, one leg crossed over the other. Even just standing
      there, wearing nothing more than jeans and a leather jacket, the man
      exuded so much raw masculinity Rogue's breath momentarily caught and
      flickered in her chest.

      He looked impatiently bored, but when he raised his bruising eyes, an
      unholy smile spread across his face as he let his gaze travel up and
      down her towel-swathed body. He did nothing to hide his appraisal,
      and Rogue felt his eyes all over her skin like a physical
      touch. "Like I said, a great body." His hungry stare fixed on her
      mouth and her throat went dry. "And lips I'm just dying to see
      wrapped around my dick."

      Rogue groused. Way to spoil a moment. "Must you always be such a
      vulgarian?"

      "Always" Logan replied, his topaz eyes flashing. "Especially around
      you. That mouth of yours makes me think up the nastiest shit."

      Against her brain's will, Rogue found herself becoming aroused.
      Logan's smirk deepened, and she couldn't help but imagine the dirty
      images going through his mind…images that made her heat from the
      inside out and sent electricity skating through her skin. Logan's
      smirk broke into a full-on grin, and Rogue felt her cheeks warm.
      Strange as it might seem, the man could look almost charming at
      times.

      She sighed in deliberate irritation, determined not to be swayed. "I
      still have to get dressed. Do you mind?"

      "I don't mind," he smirked, unabashedly eying her shower-misted
      legs. "I was just checking to see if you wanted Italian or Chinese
      food for dinner. I figured we should make reservations – you never
      know when a town with a population of three and a dog might be unable
      to accommodate two for dinner."

      "What a cosmopolitan choice in cuisine," Rogue muttered. "Either's
      fine, really…but I'm probably more in the mood for Chinese."

      Logan rolled his eyes. "Then why didn't you just say Chinese?"

      "Because I wanted to annoy you," Rogue chimed. She began pushing his
      back, directing him towards the door. "Go make the reservations and
      let me get dressed."

      When she was ready, they piled into his truck to travel the short
      distance to the restaurant. The cab was cold and Rogue rubbed her
      gloved hands together, blowing misty breath into them to warm up as
      Logan drove. An awkward silence charged the space between the two of
      them, and Rogue silently chewed the inside of her cheek. "Logan?"
      she finally asked. "I wasn't really scared of you. When we were,
      you know…together…in your truck. You know that, don't you?"

      "Yeah. I know," he mumbled, darting his eyes to her. "And… Christ,
      I said some shitty things," he grumbled. He scratched the back of
      his head uncomfortably. "Sorry I called you a snotty fucking bitch.
      You're not a bitch."

      Rogue scowled. Only Logan could make an apology sound like an
      insult. "Thanks. I'll work on the `snotty' and `fucking' parts."

      "Definitely the fucking part," he replied, the corner of his mouth
      twisting up.

      Then Logan reached his hand out to her and dragged a finger down her
      cheekbone. Rogue closed her eyes in sensual enjoyment of the
      tingling shocks left in its wake. As he withdrew, she lifted her
      eyelids, suddenly remembering how he'd also been holding her hand
      earlier when she'd returned to consciousness. "Why do you keep
      touching my skin?" she asked.

      Logan turned to look at her. His molten gaze was so hot and
      penetrating it practically scored her soft flesh. "I want you to get
      used to it."

      Liquidy desire drizzled down Rogue's sternum and curled her toes in
      her boots. "Oh," was all she could manage to answer, and it came out
      more as a sigh than a word. She might have felt cold before, but
      invisible flames now licked the insides of her veins. Heated oxygen
      expanded in her lungs. Suddenly, she felt stifled in her winter coat.

      Logan put on his signal and turned into a parking lot; the restaurant
      sprang up in front of them. He parked and the two of them scrambled
      down to solid ground. Rogue hadn't realized until just then that she
      hadn't eaten all day, and her stomach made small gurgling noises in
      protest of the hunger strike when she got scent of food. It smelled
      like dinner would be pure MSG, but she didn't particularly care at
      the moment.

      They made their way inside and were immediately seated. Once they
      settled in, Logan looked at Rogue with a look of dire earnestness and
      said in a low, important-sounding voice, "I know a place you can go."

      Rogue eyed him skeptically. "What do you mean `a place I can go'?"

      "An institute--"

      "I'm not insane!" she blazed.

      "Not that kind of institute, Marie. Would you calm down?" he hissed
      in a quelling whisper, looking around at the restaurant's other
      patrons. "I'm talking about a school. A school for mutants. I know
      the guy who runs it – Charles Xavier. He helps mutants control their
      powers." The waiter arrived just then and Logan looked up at
      him. "We'll have the Peking Duck special."

      The waiter nodded once and repeated, "Peking Duck," before taking off
      for the kitchen.

      "You didn't even bother asking me if I like Peking Duck!"

      "Do you like Peking Duck?"

      Rogue exhaled a deep sigh of exasperation. "Yes."

      Logan shrugged. "You'd be safe at Xavier's Institute; Charles would
      make sure of it. He's got better security than you could ever
      afford."

      "I don't know," Rogue replied doubtfully in a soft voice. "The way I
      can take other mutants' powers? I'm kind of a mutant among mutants,
      don't you think? It's probably better if I just stick with my plan
      and stay away from everyone."

      "The other students will get used to you," he reassured her. Rogue
      started to interrupt, but Logan continued speaking over her. "And if
      they don't, fuck `em. Keep to yourself, skulk in corners. It's what
      you'd be doing in motels anyway. But at least there you'd be safe
      from those dickholes chasing you. And Christ, Marie, the Professor
      could help you figure out how to control your mutation."

      Rogue sighed and compressed her lips into a tight line. "I'll think
      about."





      During the night, Rogue awoke for some unknown reason. After a
      mental shrug, she snuggled deeply into her motel comforter and
      quickly passed back into sleep. But she was immediately roused from
      slumber once again when a large, heated body plastered against her
      back and the mattress weighed heavily to one side, rolling her
      towards the solid mass. An arm curled around her stomach and began
      massaging one of her small breasts. There was definitely something
      hard prodding her in the rear.

      "Logan?" she asked, turning within his pinning grasp to face him.

      "You were expecting someone else?" his familiar voice scratched.

      "No, but I wasn't exactly expecting you, either." She yawned.

      "Surprise."

      Rogue knuckled her eyes sleepily. "What are you doing here?"

      "I want to fuck like monkeys `til dawn," he stated

      Logan's tone of voice was so calm and straightforward, Rogue wasn't
      sure she'd heard him correctly. She rubbed one eye with the heel of
      her palm. "You want to… What do you want to do?"

      With deliberate annunciation on each syllable, he repeated
      himself, "I-want-to-fuck-like-mon-keys-til-dawn."

      Rogue's eyes bulleted open. "God, Logan! What am I…here to service
      you every time you get an itch?"

      "Nah," he responded, leaning back against the headboard, basketing
      his head with his hands. "Just whenever I get a big old boner."

      "Ugh!" she whispered in furious disgust. "Why do you have to be like
      that? One second I'm thinking there's actually something almost
      charming about you, and the next you're…you're…"

      "Hard as a rock and looking to get laid?" he suggested through a
      thick grin. "Admit it, sweetheart, you can't get enough of me."

      "Oh God," Rogue sighed in resignation, dragging a frustrated hand
      down her face. "What am I going to do with you?"

      "I can think of a few things," Logan offered, sitting
      forward. "Starting with those thick lips of yours." He ran the pad
      of one thumb over her bottom lip.

      Rogue closed her eyes. "Logan," she whispered across a soft wisp of
      air.

      "Shhh, Marie." He pushed her heavy hair out of her face and she
      lifted her lashes to look at him. "Open your mouth for me," he
      ordered.

      He leaned in to kiss her, and Rogue parted her lips as he'd
      instructed. Logan's mouth touched hers – he tasted like spice and
      heat. The palms of Rogue's hands pressed hard against the mattress
      and the oral embrace deepened; his tongue wound through her mouth.
      Warmth tingled on her lips and sleeted through her chest. She felt a
      familiar tickle of need in her lower body.

      In intuitive response, Logan slid a hand along Rogue's satin-clad
      thigh and inserted it between her legs. The fabric of her nightgown
      prevented true contact between them, but the barrier proved a minimal
      deterrent to her pleasure as he forced her thighs apart and wiggled a
      silk-wrapped finger to her wet entrance. Flames of delight instantly
      fanned to life when he found the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves
      buried amid her feminine flesh and began massaging vigorously. Her
      nightgown's sleek material created the most deliciously smooth
      friction. Rogue's body wrenched in wild reaction to the almost
      intolerable pleasure. She wanted him to slip those thick fingers
      inside her.

      Rogue dazed with passion so quickly, so completely, that Logan had
      the lower half of her nightgown pushed up around her waist and was
      draping her knees over his shoulders before she could protest. When
      she realized what he was planning, the first hints of nervousness
      started building in the pit of her stomach. "Wait a minute," she
      began.

      Logan shot her a lopsided grin. "Not a chance, sweetheart."

      Then he licked her. Back to front, the velvet rasp of his tongue
      dragging intimately across her flesh. Rogue flew into a million
      pieces; her body lurched. Logan's fingers dug into her hips and
      locked her lower body squarely against his rough mouth. He sucked
      with crisp suction on the engorged bud at the center of her pleasure,
      and her world burst into flames around her. She wanted to shriek,
      but no sound came from her throat; blazing electricity broadcast
      outward through every cell of her arched body. Her insides screamed
      and her feet curled tightly in midair. She was so close…

      More. She wanted more.

      Logan's tongue stabbed into her with a back-and-forth rocking motion,
      each stroke curling past the hyper-sensitized nub, driving her to
      maddening heights. Heat filled Rogue like a moist bubble against the
      oral onslaught, pressure mounting, mounting, mounting, until the
      frustrating pressure was too much and a violent kaleidoscope of
      sensation erupted inside her. Her world exploded into iridescent
      bliss, gushing out in warm, fluid flames. Rogue's hands coiled the
      sheets. Her body buzzed.

      Logan put her feet down on the mattress and spread her knees,
      crawling up between them like a prowling predator. His teeth clamped
      down on one nipple – in the aftermath of her fast, explosive orgasm,
      the pain sank through her in a way no mere tender caress could have.
      Rogue felt another inexorable wave snatch her up, and she knew she'd
      be tossed and carried and drowned amid the pounding surf.

      An inkling of fear clutched Rogue's stomach with an icy hand and
      squeezed tightly. Doubt slinked through her brain. What if she got
      scared in the middle of their lovemaking? What if both of them were
      too caught up in the sexual act when a panic attack began that they
      couldn't stop? What if Logan collapsed on top of her, pinning her so
      she was unable to push him away? She could suck him dry. She could
      kill him.

      Anxiety began germinating within Rogue, and it wrapped an invisible,
      steel band around her lungs. Her pulse rate spiked. She repelled
      Logan and squirmed out from under him, scooting back against the
      headboard. "Wait, no. Stop, stop, *stop*," she said, shaking her
      head frantically. Her legs recoiled into her body. "I can't do
      this. I mean, how are we supposed to make it work?"

      Anger rose like a red floodtide on Logan's face. "Insert tab A into
      slot B. Easiest directions in the world."

      "No!" she insisted. "There are too many ifs. What if something
      makes me afraid? We might be too…preoccupied…to be able to halt what
      we're doing in time."

      "Marie," Logan spat out in brutal incredulity. "You can't be
      serious. You're not gonna leave me like this."

      "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just too scared."

      His unnerving eyes bore into her tender skin like drill
      bits. "You're fucking kidding me!"

      Rogue shook her head.

      "Son of a bitch!" Logan raged. "You're *killing* me here."

      "I'm sorry," she reiterated. "I'm not trying to be cruel."

      "Cruel doesn't even begin to cover it," he stormed. "Christ, I just
      went down on you!"

      Annoyance snapped at Rogue. "I didn't realize this was a game of tit
      for tat."

      "Hell, I'd be willing to settle for a fast titty-fuck, even if it is
      straight out of high school."

      "Oh my God," Rogue muttered in disgust. How could she have thought
      for even one millisecond that this man was remotely charming? He was
      the biggest slime bag on Earth. "You know what? No one forced you
      to come over here and…and…do what you just did. Get out, please.
      Just go back to your room and take care of yourself."

      "Take care of myself," Logan repeated in disbelief, his eyes
      searching the ceiling for unfound inspiration. "Un-fucking-
      believable."

      Hot rage continued to expand within her. "Well, believe it. I'm
      sorry you were…how did you so eloquently word it? `Hard as a rock
      and looking to get laid'? But I'm afraid life's just full of
      disappointments."

      "That's not all you're afraid of," he growled softly.

      "What did you say?" she asked in restrained fury.

      Logan spun on her and his flashing golden gaze sent cold tremors
      cascading down her spine. He was half-dressed, his chest bare above
      a pair of loose boxers. Dark hair sprinkled across angry, flexing
      muscles. He was furious, like some kind of untamed
      beast. "Sweetheart, you're so scared, it's pathetic. Because what
      you're really scared of is how much you want me."

      A sharp, indrawn breath hissed between Rogue's teeth. "No, what I'm
      really scared of is acting on my urge to crack your skull in two.
      But then, that would have to be one mean feat to accomplish on
      someone as thickheaded as you! Now, which word of `get out' did you
      not understand?"

      "Must have been the `get'," he mumbled in disgust as he headed for
      the adjoining door. "'Cause I sure as hell didn't get *any*!" He
      walked to his room and slammed the adjoining door closed behind him.

      Rogue folded her arms across her chest and gave a sour, "Hmmph."
      There was a loud series of creaks as she heard Logan plop down onto
      his bed. Great…their headboards shared a wall! The unmistakable
      sounds of male masturbation immediately leaked through to Rogue, and
      she uncomfortably overheard every individual grunt and groan.
      Logan's climax came fast and hard, and before he'd had so much as a
      chance to catch his breath, she heard him snoring. She rolled her
      eyes. Only a man could transition so easily from anger to self-
      pleasure to slumber in the span of three minutes.

      Rogue stretched her legs out along the top of the bed and leaned her
      back against the headboard. Her arms were still crossed over her
      chest. Sleep was not going to come for a while yet – she had too
      much adrenaline pumping through her veins, and her brain couldn't
      stop arguing with Logan. Where did he get off? Okay, so he hadn't
      gotten off, and that was kind of the point, but still! Of all the
      nerve, to just *assume*… As if it were something owed to him…and it
      had been her duty to provide it!

      Rogue's silent fuming continued into the night and was only
      interrupted when she heard more noises emanating from Logan's room…
      except this time, the sounds were loud, effortful groans. Rogue's
      wordless tirade came to an abrupt halt and she pressed an ear against
      their mutual wall. These were not the grunts of perfunctory
      masturbation; they were long, protracted, savage moans pushing out
      from the bottom of a man's diaphragm. Oh God – he was…he was having…
      sex! He was actually having sex with someone else over there! Blind
      fury forked white-hot through Rogue. That… despicable… *bastard*!
      How could he have gone from her bed, not an hour ago, into the arms
      of some other woman? Oh God! Maybe it was a hooker he'd just picked
      up. Forget being a slime bag – the man was the lowest form of…no,
      even lower than that… He was… There weren't words loathsome enough
      to describe him!

      Rogue bolted out of bed and stalked across the floor. She had no
      idea what she was going to say, but she was sure a few choice words
      would come to her in a fit of divine inspiration. Rogue tossed wide
      the door to Logan's room and stormed into his room.

      To her incredible surprise, Rogue found Logan alone, thrashing wildly
      in his sleep. There was no intimate coupling scene, as she'd
      anticipated. A small wash of unwelcome relief flushed over her. It
      was immediately followed by a sense of embarrassed resentment to her
      reaction.

      The thin bed sheet Logan had used to cover himself was twisted and
      coiled around his nearly nude body. It was as if a rowdy wrestling
      match were taking place between man and bedding, and the linen was
      decidedly slipping into the loser's position. Rogue's feelings of
      relief were quickly overtaken by worry. Whatever Logan was seeing
      behind his clenched lids was no ordinary nightmare. He looked as
      though he were reliving an experience straight out of the innermost
      depths of hell.

      Rogue approached him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Despite the
      cold temperature, Logan's dark skin was drenched in sweat, his black
      hair all but glistening with it in the filtered moonlight slitting
      through the blinds. His face was screwed tightly, as if he were
      suffering indescribable torture. Rogue grabbed the sheet's corner
      and used it to place a hand on Logan's hot flesh. His body heat
      burned like a furnace through the light cotton material. She shook
      his shoulder. "Logan," she whispered.

      Aside from the continued flailing of his limbs and the deep sounds of
      his distress, there was no reply. Rogue redoubled her efforts,
      shaking harder and hissing his name with more force and
      volume. "Logan!"

      Suddenly, he bolted awake and sat up with a loud roar, his piercing
      eyes instantly digging into hers. Rogue was so startled she made a
      choked sound and jumped backwards. Unfortunately, it was neither
      soon enough nor far enough away to prevent pain from slicing through
      her.