Fic: Mortal Fear (2/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue
- Title: Mortal Fear
Series: 2/10 (end of 1: "The two of them traveled quietly for a few
minutes before passing a billboard advertising a burger joint at an
upcoming rest stop. Logan wordlessly pulled into the exit lane.")
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
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.
"Hey, sugar. Long time, no see."
Rogue looked up from her menu to find their red-haired waitress
addressing Logan. His gaze lifted and he gave the woman a brisk nod
"Oh, hey " his eyes darted to the server's nametag, " Kelly. Yeah.
Long time. Good to see you."
If Kelly noticed Logan's lapse in memory, she showed no outward
signs. "You'll be wanting your usual?" she asked perkily. Her large
breasts bounded with every movement. They were barely confined in
the snug pink uniform as it was, and they looked prepared to make a
break for freedom at the slightest hint of encouragement.
"Yeah, that's fine," he growled and stood up, announcing, "I'm gonna
hit the can."
"Ew! Thanks for the update," Rogue snapped in distaste. She
returned her attention to Kelly and ordered her meal. "I'll have a
burger, medium-well, and a glass of water with a slice of lemon. And
could I get some dijon mustard on the side?"
"Sure thing, sweetie" Kelly responded, writing the order down. She
turned to leave, but then seemed to have second thoughts. She leaned
over, her deep cleavage practically right in Rogue's face. After
looking to make sure Logan was safely in the bathroom, Kelly
conspiratorially whispered, "I know it's none of my business, but I
uh well, I feel like I should kind of, like warn you "
"Warn me ?" Rogue inquired. She tried not to inhale the overzealous
perfume in which Kelly must have just recently bathed. The musky
odor hung in a heavy cloud around the woman, and Rogue had to
restrain herself from coughing rudely. The sharp scent actually
pinpricked tears in her eyes.
Kelly sighed and leaned in further, guiltily looking both ways before
continuing. "Look, he's a good guy and all, but, uh, if you're
planning on having sex with him, you should know that he gets, like,
freaky intense in bed. It's kind of creepy."
Rogue's eyes grew huge. She did *not* want to hear this! The last
thing she needed to know about was Logan's sexual history with this
over-stuffed redhead! "Yeah, um, thanks. I have no immediate plans
to sleep with Logan, but I appreciate the heads up. I'll keep it in
mind should my intentions change," she bit out a touch too acidly.
Kelly shrugged. "Just figured I'd let you know."
The attention of both women suddenly redirected to Logan's approach.
His return seemed a little too quick to Rogue, and she wondered in
disgust if he'd even bothered to wash his hands. "Can we get this to
go?" His unnerving gaze raked over Rogue. "Gotta make good road
time for my client."
Kelly smiled brightly for him and replied, "Sure thing, sugar."
"Great." He gave a small head twitch to indicate Rogue and
added, "She'll pay."
Rogue leaned her elbow on the passenger's side door to prop up her
drooping head. She was completely exhausted. In hindsight, she
could see that she'd probably come very near to risking her life out
in the cold. Only now, hours later, was she finally feeling a
complete return of sensation in her extremities. The cab's lulling
heat and her recently filled belly were draining the last of her
energy. She was lingering on that sweet border between sleep and
lucidity, marveling at the feeling of pure, warm safety radiating out
from her stomach in a steady thrum.
Rogue hadn't felt this sense of contentment in years. Not that it
was much in an objective sense, but relatively speaking, it was the
most she'd had in a very long time. Conversation between her and
Logan had been limited to a level of superficiality she assumed was
typically shared between a driver and an unknown passenger. Not that
she knew for sure she'd never actually hitched a ride before and she
still didn't really know *why* she'd thought hitching a ride from him
was a good idea. Regardless, Rogue hadn't talked to anyone in such a
long time. It felt kind of nice.
Maybe it was partly because they were both mutants, Rogue
speculated. Logan could empathize with her loneliness. He'd
understand that combined look of disgust and terror in people's eyes
when they discovered "the dirty little secret." He probably had the
same driving urgency to keep moving, for fear of being discovered or
unintentionally hurting someone. Or maybe he had people tracking him
down, too. Whatever the reason, she felt a more substantial bond
with him than she suspected she would have with any random, non-
mutant guy just driving a rig.
Also, at some point during the few hours in his company, Rogue had
lost her wariness of Logan. Sure, he was an imposing figure, and she
had little doubt that he often followed through on his tacit
threats. But towards her, he seemed all bluff and bluster.
In fact, she realized in her half-dozing state, she definitely felt
something altogether different than fear towards Logan. Rogue's
heavy eyelids lifted enough for her to slant a sidelong glance at
him. There was a quality to Logan that was, for lack of a better
descriptor, ruggedly sexy. His square features weren't remotely
handsome, but he was dark and primal and thoroughly masculine. And
his amber gaze made heat chase along her spine, zapping clear down to
her toes. Without question, he was a total grade-A jerk, but the
thought burned through her brain that Logan would be devastatingly
hot in bed.
Rogue bolted a hundred percent awake. Whoa! Where did an idea like
that come from? Her self-imposed restriction from physical human
contact had been achingly difficult these past three years, but not
once since her mutation developed had Rogue fantasized sexually.
She'd been too caught up in the drama of running away from her
parents and their scary new friends too wrapped up in the misery of
loneliness and of being held prisoner by her own skin too involved in
trying to enact her master plan. She hadn't had the mental room to
really indulge in sexual urges. But then again, she was only human.
Well, sort of, anyway. It was probably just the result of a synaptic
misfire, Rogue decided, created by Kelly's words of "warning."
But on the other hand, had Rogue thought her hormones had up and died
instead of merely retreating into dormancy? Maybe a nice little
fantasy was just what she needed.
Biting her lower lip, Rogue studied Logan. He was strong her
imagination didn't have to work hard to picture the sinewy muscle
roping his body. She could envision his hard power hovering above
her, thrusting into her. The sweating and grunting. Heat and
adrenaline slipped into her bloodstream at the mental image, kicking
her heart rate up a notch. Logan would ride her roughly thoroughly
back and forth, again and again until she'd ache with the need to
explode. His mouth would feast greedily on her breasts, gnawing with
tender ferocity, his possessive teeth sinking into her skin.
The thought lit up a hot wire of electricity from her nipples
straight to her loins. A small gasp escaped Rogue's throat and she
felt a gush of moist heat between her legs.
In the driver's seat, Logan's head slammed around to look at her, as
if he'd caught her committing a crime red-handed. At his gold
flashing glare, Rogue's sexual enjoyment morphed into instantaneous
guilt. She catapulted upright in shock, then shrank into her seat
and gulped back her mortification.
Oh God, her brain panicked, can he read other people's thoughts?
Maybe it was one of his mutant powers. Had he just witnessed that
little mental movie of hers? Rogue quickly forced her mind's eye to
conjure up an image of Logan in a fluffy pink dress with tiny
pigtails in his hair, skipping through a park trailing a balloon
after him. The idea was so completely ludicrous she couldn't help
but burst out in giggles. Logan was still staring at her
accusatorily, apparently finding nothing humorous. "What's so
amusing?" he demanded gruffly. Scratch the idea that he could read
Rogue shook her head and tried to stifle the laughter, without
success. The more she attempted to repress it, the more she saw
those stupid pigtails and that lacy pink frock until she was rolling
on the seat in uncontrollable hysterics. Logan shook his head. "You
are totally fucking psycho, woman."
Around midnight, Logan pulled off the highway to find lodging. The
next exit wasn't for another hundred fifty kilometers, and the last
one had been over seventy back. Logan had never been a city guy
too many people but small towns sort of pissed him off. At that
point, he figured he was better off in the wilderness.
But his sugar mommy was coughing up the bucks for a motel room, and
Logan was not about to forego a free night on a real mattress. The
futon pad in the back of his cab was comfortable enough, but it had
its limitations. There was definitely something to being able to
sprawl across a full-sized bed
The backwater stopover was so ridiculously tiny it only qualified as
a township under the most liberal of definitions. But its small size
did nothing to change the fact that when they got to the motel's
front desk, they were told there was only one more room
available. "Excuse me?" Logan spat back incredulously to the desk
clerk. "Since when did East Bumblefuck become a goddamned tourist
Rogue placed a gloved hand on his arm in restraint. "Forgive my
companion. He's just curious how such a small town could have so
The scrunched up gnome behind the counter looked nervously at Logan
and then back at Rogue. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Look,
we're the last stop in front of that long stretch of highway," the
man whined pathetically. He cleared his throat. "We get a lot of
travelers who want to sleep before they get to the next exit."
"Shit," Logan cursed. "Fine, we'll take the room. She'll pay you,"
he concluded, jamming a thumb in Rogue's direction. Fury crept up
her neck and streaked red stains across her face. Logan turned to
the door to go outside for a smoke, leaving behind one scared little
piece of shit and one royally ticked-off-looking woman.
When she finally joined him outside, Rogue did not look
happy. "Would you mind telling me," she fumed in leashed
agitation, "how you intend for us to sleep in one room? And I'll
give you a hint: your answer better include either the phrase I sleep
in my truck or I sleep on the floor."
Logan flashed her a devilish grin. "What if instead it includes the
phrase fuck like small woodland creatures?"
Watching the red blotches color her cheeks, Logan was tempted to add
something about how she should be up for the tumble, considering how
hot she'd been in his truck. Christ, the smell of her! Her
scorching wetness had instantly suffused the air, the thick odor
overwhelming him so entirely he could practically taste her. It was
the most sexual scent he'd ever smelled coming off a woman and it had
gushed off her in waves.
Logan unconsciously licked his lips and looked into her face.
Nothing about Rogue was conventionally pretty. At first glance, she
was like innocence personified, with that prim Southern accent and
those dark, drowning pool eyes and Logan had never exactly been one
for innocence. But further inspection revealed those deep optic
pools held faint glints of nasty promises, the mere thought of which
made him rock hard. Maybe it was the contrast. Or maybe it was
those plump, dick-sucking lips of hers.
"In case I haven't made it clear," Rogue drawled
imperiously, "physical contact with me isn't even a remote
possibility. So I hate to burst your oh-so implausible bubble, but
there will be no fuck-like-small-woodland-creatures festivities
It was downright comical hearing the word fuck stated so prudishly,
especially coming from such a sexual-looking mouth. Logan smirked at
her. "That's too bad. You look like you'd be a real freak in the
sack. Could be fun."
Fury again splashed across Rogue's face. She made a sound of
frustrated disgust and threw her arms in the air, then spun on her
heel and strode indignantly to the room. Logan smiled smugly from
ear to ear as he trailed after her.
As soon as they walked into the motel accommodations, Rogue made a
beeline for the bathroom, passing the single bed without so much as a
glance. "I'm going to take a shower," she announced, refusing to
look back as she marched regally into the tiny room, her bag still
strapped to her shoulder. The door shut behind her somewhat
forcefully. Seconds later, Logan heard the taps running. He flopped
onto his back on the bed, the mattress springs groaning beneath him,
and he grabbed the remote to turn on HBO. Logan moaned in disgust
it would be "Battlefield Earth."
Rogue emerged a half-hour later, her skin flushed pink. Her hair
hung long in damp tendrils around her scrubbed face, and she was
dressed in loose, gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved, cream t-shirt.
Wrapped in the figure-hugging top, the silhouette of her body was
easily discernable she was a bit too thin and had below-average-
There shouldn't have been anything remotely arousing about Rogue's
ordinary appearance just then, but damn if Logan wasn't suddenly
sporting the hard-on of the century packed tightly into his jeans.
The smell of clean female curled temptingly at his nose. A dark,
primitive urge surged through his blood and sent him bolting to a
standing position. Shit, he cursed internally. Hot saliva stung his
tongue and lust grabbed him hard by the balls.
"I'm going for a walk," Logan declared in a rough voice and he
reached for his jacket. Rogue barely looked his way, instead busying
herself removing a laptop computer from her knapsack and unwrapping a
tangle of important-looking cables. "Okay," she replied
distractedly, tucking her wet hair behind one ear. The mingled
scents of soap and woman kept tickling his senses. Logan simply
stood there for a moment, expecting something else to be
communicated, but Rogue just continued unraveling what looked like a
phone cord. He curled his hands into fists and walked out the door.
Logan stepped out into the brisk cold, hoping it would help cool the
spicy blood pooling hotly in his crotch. Why was he reacting so
strongly to Rogue? There was nothing remotely special about her.
Maybe it was the idea that she was some kind of forbidden fruit that
she couldn't be touched. Logan had never been good with rules or
being told not to do something. Christ, was he making her into some
kind of fucking challenge?
Or maybe that wasn't it at all. Just recalling the overpowering
scent of her dripping desire made him hard as granite. Maybe it was
because 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
Yeah it probably had something to do with that second reason.