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FIC: 'Tis a Pity She's a Whore: 1/2: NC-17 [L/R]

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  • victoria_p@att.net
    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@att.net]
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 27 6:49 AM
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      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
      mature themes
      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.

      <Xavier's. Yes.>

      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.

      <Perfect.>

      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.

      <Xavier's.>

      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
      lurch.

      "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
      it, her.

      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
      her body.

      "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
      the cloth.

      Neither was hers, he thought, as she arched her hips off
      the bed.

      "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,
      "Fuck, Marie!"

      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.
      "How--"

      *Snikt*

      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
      his length.

      "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
      her orgasm.

      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
      times. "

      "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,
      Red."

      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
      here--"

      "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
      life here--"

      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.
      Okay?"

      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.

      "What?"

      "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."

      ***

      victoria

      --

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