FIC: 'Tis a Pity She's a Whore: 1/2: NC-17 [L/R]
- Stupid webmail is making me split this into two parts.
It's not that long...
Title: 'Tis a Pity She's a Whore
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: Logan and Rogue confront the X-Men
Series: Off the Corner #5
Rating: NC-17, sex, language, references to violence and
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and
Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no
infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool; with the rest of the series
Feedback: Me = feedback whore
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, and Meg. The title comes
from the 17th C. John Ford play.
< > indicates thoughts
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation
'Tis a Pity She's a Whore
Logan woke slowly, breathing deeply to familiarize
himself with the strange place he was in.
And curled up in his arms -- they'd switched positions in
the night -- was Marie. He smiled.
She looked so innocent in her sleep, one gloved hand
resting under her cheek, the other curled tightly to her
chest, which rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Her
lips beckoned to him, and he realized that he'd never
kissed her, never felt the rough velvet glide of her
tongue against his. And he wanted to, desperately.
He eased away slowly, not wanting to wake her. She
mumbled a protest, but continued to sleep.
He slipped silently into the bathroom and brushed his
teeth with one of the toothbrushes Xavier had
thoughtfully provided. He didn't want his morning breath
to be an issue during their first kiss, though he was
looking forward to tasting her with sleep still in her
mouth, and breathing in her waking breath.
That done, along with a quick shave to make sure his chin
was smooth, he went back into the bedroom and quietly
searched for some cloth that would allow him to taste and
feel her, even while providing them both protection from
her deadly skin.
It wasn't that he was afraid of her skin; he wasn't. He
just didn't want her to have to deal with anyone else in
her head ever again. Himself included.
His bag held nothing of use in this situation, though it
carried enough firepower to take over a small nation. He
turned his attention to the dresser. Maybe something had
been left behind, he thought, and after a couple of
minutes, he came upon a balled up pair of pantyhose.
Sniffing, he could tell they'd been washed and left in
the drawer for a while.
He extended one claw and cut the length of one leg in
half, giving him a very thin, fairly versatile piece of
material with which to begin his explorations of the girl
he believed he was falling in love with.
Rogue woke feeling warm and content for the first time in
ages. Everything was quiet -- no sirens, no garbage
trucks, no roommates humping strangers down the hall.
Cracking open one eye, she took in her surroundings.
She was in Westchester.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and grinned. It had all just
been a dream -- a really long, really *bad* dream. She
wasn't a hooker. She hadn't been beaten and fucked by
strange men for the past few months.
Of course, that meant that the last part of the dream --
the one with the man, Logan (and it was unusual for her
to remember so many details of a dream, but she
remembered everything -- *everything* -- about him; the
feel of his hands, the touch of his lips, the burn of
metal sliding through her chest) -- was also unreal. And
she was sad about that. He'd made her happy, and she
couldn't remember the last time, waking or sleeping, that
she'd been happy.
She sighed and stretched.
And heard a noise.
Her eyes flew open.
"It wasn't a dream," she whispered, and he could see the
disappointment on her face. It sent shards of pain
through his heart.
"No. Did you want it to be?" he asked gently.
"Not you, Logan," she said, sitting up and realizing how
he'd taken her words. "Everything but you."
And she smiled at him. It never failed to make his heart
"Well then," he said, his hazel eyes sparkling with
mischief and desire, "how about a good morning kiss?"
Her face fell. "You know I can't. I wish I could, though.
I wish I could spend the rest of my life kissing you."
Her eyes widened and she blushed, clapping a hand over
her mouth as she realized what she'd just said. She hung
her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair.
He smiled at her. "Me, too." He settled on the bed next
to her, then raised her chin with a gloved hand and
looked into her eyes. He brushed a thumb over her full
lower lip and nearly groaned at the thought of tasting
He held up the nylon. "I think it'll work." He waited for
her permission, which she granted with a slight nod. He
laid the sheer cloth over her lips and reverently brushed
them with his own.
Soon, though, he wanted more. Sliding one hand around her
neck and cupping the back of her head, he licked
insistently at her mouth and she opened it eagerly.
The kiss deepened, searing both of them with its
intensity, and she wrapped herself around him, trying to
pull him closer. Her gloved hands roamed up his chest,
under his shirt, and then around and down his back,
learning him by touch, memorizing every muscle and bone.
He broke the kiss, sliding the material down her jaw and
neck, allowing him to lick and nip lightly at her. Her
moan of protest changed to a gasp of pleasure as he found
a spot on her neck that sent electricity shooting through
"Logan," she whispered, not able to catch her breath
enough to speak properly. He grinned -- she could feel
the movement of his mouth -- but didn't speak.
He continued to kiss his way down her body, stopping only
long enough to divest her of the sweatshirt and pants she
still wore, so she was naked before him, except for the
gloves. He marveled at the smooth paleness of her skin,
all the angry, red scars healed by his touch.
"It's not safe," she groaned, trying to cover herself,
but he wouldn't let her.
"Trust me," he responded, and she could feel the scrape
of his sideburns along the inside of her thighs, only
slightly softened by the material he placed between them.
Her hands anchored themselves to his scalp when he ran
his tongue over her glistening, velvet folds, tasting her
for the first time, his pleasure not impeded at all by
Neither was hers, he thought, as she arched her hips off
"Logan -- uh -- ah--" She couldn't think -- her whole
world narrowed to the tiny bundle of nerves between her
legs as he gently licked and sucked at it, enjoying the
way she bucked and writhed in response to his caresses.
"Logan, please," she moaned. He laughed in delight,
sending vibrations shuddering through her as the
delicious tension radiating out from his mouth tightened
her muscles. He slipped one finger, and then a second
into her tight, wet passage and slowly stroked them in
and out in time with the rhythm he'd established with his
tongue on her clit.
She felt a sensation burning along her nerves, as if she
were on fire from the inside, and then, when she thought
she couldn't take the tension anymore, he sucked harder,
quickening the pace of his fingers.
She came hard, her hips banging into him as her nails,
even through the leather of her gloves, dug into his
skull. "Oh, Logan. Logan -- ahh--"
She shuddered with the intensity of it for several long
moments, and he continued to stroke her gently, enjoying
the glazed look in her eyes, proud he'd been able to
bring her such pleasure.
He got up to get another piece of nylon and she grunted
in protest. Returning quickly, he laid the sheer fabric
over her face and kissed her deeply, letting her taste
herself on his tongue.
Her hands drifted down his body and under the waistband
of his sweatpants to find his cock hard and ready,
dripping with pre-come. She stroked him gently at first,
then harder, from root to tip scraping one nail along the
sensitive underside. She grinned at his sharp exhalation,
She gave a sultry smile as she pushed him back, wrapping
the nylon around him. She engulfed the head of his penis
in her mouth and he groaned wordlessly, caught up in the
sensations her lips and tongue were producing.
But he wanted her to come again -- wanted this to be
about her, not him. He abruptly pulled her head away,
running his thumb across her swollen lips, which pouted
at him in confusion.
"Rubbers -- in my bag," he said, his voice tight with
need and control.
She took the foil-wrapped packet and looked at him.
Very carefully, he cut a slit in the front of his sweats
and pulled them back on.
"Oh," she crooned, delighted at his ingenuity. Reaching
in, she freed his penis, which sprung to attention. "Very
smart." And she proceeded to roll the condom down onto
"That's why I'm--" he managed as she straddled him and
dragged her wet sex along his sensitive head before
settling on his lap, "the best... there is... at what
I... do." She raised up and impaled herself on his cock
without warning. "Fuck!"
She grinned and leaned forward, pressing her breasts
against his sweatshirt-clad chest, her hands on his
shoulders for leverage.
She rode him and he pressed his hands to her hips, urging
her on -- faster, harder. She clenched her inner muscles
around him, enjoying the steady stream of encouraging
words tumbling from his lips. This was so different from
the sex she was used to -- she'd never felt like this
with any of her johns. That was all about playing a role,
and some of them weren't even interested in that.
She grabbed his hand and moved it between them, guiding
him once again to her clit. It wasn't long before she
lost the rhythm and climaxed again, drawing him deeper
into her body. She spasmed around him and he lost it --
the world went bright white behind his eyes and he thrust
into her hard, once, twice, three times -- coming with an
intensity that surprised him.
She collapsed against him, riding out the aftershocks of
He pushed her sweaty hair off her face and said, "I hope
we didn't wake the neighbors." She blinked and blushed as
he continued, "You were pretty loud, Marie." He grinned
slyly. "Hope none of the kids are on this floor."
"You weren't exactly quiet yourself," she responded
playfully. "I think I heard you call my name out a few
"That I did, darlin'. That I did."
She nestled down into the crook of his arm, ready to go
back to sleep when he tensed.
"Someone's coming," he said, every sense on alert.
She knew better than to make the obvious joke when she
saw the serious look on his face.
There was a knock on the door.
Logan rose and opened it; it was Jean. She was dressed
and looked like she'd been awake for hours. Catching
sight of the clock, Rogue realized she probably had been.
It was nine twenty-five. She blushed and slid further
down beneath the sheets.
"The Professor would like to see you, Logan," Jean said,
taking in the state of the room -- and Logan's sweats --
at a glance. She frowned but said nothing about their
morning activities, for which Rogue was grateful. She had
a feeling Scott wouldn't have been so restrained, and the
last thing she needed was him and Logan coming to blows.
"I'll be down in a minute," Logan said. When Jean showed
no sign of leaving, he continued, "I can find my way,
She harrumphed, but left them alone.
He sat down heavily on the bed. "I don't wanna cause you
any trouble, with these people, Marie. If you wanna stay
"I want to stay with you," she answered, and he could see
the resolve in her eyes. "Don't you," she swallowed hard,
"don't you want me to stay with you?"
His gaze softened and he stroked her cheek. "More than
anything, darlin'. But if you got a chance at a normal
She shook her head and he could tell from her scent how
upset she was. "You know what I am, Logan, what I've been
through. What kind of normal life can I have? At least
with you, I know where I stand."
He pulled her into a fierce embrace. "I don't wanna screw
things up for you."
"There's nothing *to* screw up if I'm not with you,
Logan. That's the truth. I have nothing without you." She
rubbed her face against his shoulder. "Let's stay
together. Just, just be honest with me, and it will all
be all right."
He pressed his lips to the top of her head, where it was
safe, and whispered, "I can do that."
She sniffed and pulled back to wipe her nose.
"You better get dressed," she said finally. "Professor
Xavier doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Logan shrugged. "I'm not too worried about him. In fact,
I'm gonna tear him a new one for letting you stay on the
street, and then I'm gonna get us the hell outta here.
She nodded and couldn't help the smile that spread across
her face. That made him want to kiss her again, so they
got distracted for a few minutes, until he heard the
voice in his head, ~Logan, we're waiting.~
He growled softly.
"He's talking to me in my head."
"Oh. That. Yeah. You get used to it." She frowned. "Or
maybe it's just me -- I got used to having all sorts of
voices in my head."
He growled again. "No more, darlin'. Not while I'm
around." Another few minutes passed as he felt the need
to reassure her physically that he would protect her.
"You better go," she said again.
He grunted, getting up and digging through his bag for
some clothes. He dressed quickly in jeans and a black
t-shirt, giving Rogue a bit of thrill as she watched him
change, sighing softly at the play of his muscles under
his taut, olive skin.
He bent to kiss her hair again as he left. "Try to get
some sleep," he suggested. "I'll be back soon."
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