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Fic: Mortal Fear (4/10) - NC-17 - Logan/Rogue

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  • karen_feigenbaum <kfeigenb@hotmail.com>
    Title: Mortal Fear Author: Karne-age Pairing: Logan/Rogue Rating: NC-17 Series: 4/10 (end of 3: The mental haze finally lifted enough for him to see Rogue
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 15, 2003
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      Title: Mortal Fear
      Author: Karne-age
      Pairing: Logan/Rogue
      Rating: NC-17
      Series: 4/10 (end of 3: The mental haze finally lifted enough for him
      to see Rogue curled into a ball with her eyes closed, a single phrase
      pouring repeatedly from her mouth. "Please be okay, please be okay,
      please be okay, please be okay.")
      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 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.



      Rogue hugged her knees into herself, an icicle of fear slicing
      through her stomach. The torrent continued flowing from her lips
      while another plea drummed in her mind: Not again, not again, not
      again.

      She couldn't take hurting someone else. Not Logan.

      "I'm okay, Marie. God dammit! Shut the fuck up for a second and
      look at me!"

      Logan's words managed to sink through the icy dread shrouding her,
      and both her brain and mouth halted their respective streams of
      words. "Logan?" she asked, opening her eyes to focus on him.

      "Shhh," he coaxed. "I'm a real fast healer. See? Good as new."

      Anxious relief swamped her nervous system. He was right – he looked
      perfect. Better than perfect. She began throwing herself into his
      arms, then caught herself and jerked backward. "Omigod, I'm so
      sorry!" she started. "I was half-asleep, and my brain was confused,
      and I think I thought you were a boyfriend or something, and it's
      been so long since I've been with anyone and I was so, well, turned
      on and y-y-you just felt so good and I guess I kind of forgot about
      my mutation in the confusion and I didn't know what I was doing and I-
      -"

      "Marie!" Logan cut her babbling short. "Calm down and take a deep
      breath."

      A nervous grin teetered on her lips. She did as Logan ordered and
      inhaled…and his scent overwhelmed her. In an instant, her brain was
      swept blank, everything forgotten except the overpowering sensory
      overload she was experiencing. It was orgasmic. It was as though
      her sense of smell were truly alive for the first time in her life.
      The aroma coming off Logan that had teased her last night –
      mouthwateringly enticing and wholly male – now permeated the air, and
      it was spiced with a darker, richer scent that made hot sparks flash
      between her thighs. "Wow!" She crawled across the bed to Logan and
      began sniffing around him. "You smell amazing! My God, why does
      your scent make me so….hungry? You smell completely…"

      "Aroused?" he offered skeptically.

      "Yeah! That's it!" Then she wondered aloud, "Why should I be able
      to smell that?"

      "I have no idea," Logan responded in an edgy voice. "That's one of
      *my* mutant abilities."

      Understanding clicked in Rogue's brain. Apparently where she merely
      absorbed a regular human's energy and thoughts and emotions, she also
      took powers from mutants. That was one heck of a realization to have
      dropped on her. She tried to grapple with it.

      It was hard. Logan's odor kept filling her nostrils, and his tart
      lust made her increasingly wetter with each deep breath. Compounded
      with the aggressive energy prowling through her body – which Rogue
      knew was also Logan's – she felt primitive and feral and Christ she
      wanted to act on it. She was on all fours, inhaling the heady aroma
      pouring off his bare skin. A low growl rumbled in the back of her
      throat.

      And then Logan grabbed her sleeved arms and lifted her up and away
      from him. "I am far too horny right now for you to be doing that.
      At this point, you're beyond flirting with danger…you're about to
      start giving danger a blowjob."

      Rogue half-groaned, half-whined in frustration. No matter how
      predatory she might feel tripping off Logan's energy – no matter how
      revved up her body might be – the fact still remained that she
      couldn't actually engage him in anything physical. She frowned at
      the unfairness of it all.

      Logan muttered a curse beneath his breath and stood up. "I'm gonna
      go take a shower, and there better be a lot of soap in there. I
      haven't had blue balls in a long time, and I have no intention of
      getting them today."

      The implication of his words hit Rogue. She nodded solemnly. Logan
      snarled and ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Jesus fucking
      Christ, lady. You're a goddamned cock-tease. I did not need this
      this morning."

      "I didn't do it intentionally!" she flung back in instant
      irritation. "And hey, who took off his shirt during the night? What
      made you think *that* was a good idea?"

      "Because *someone* cranked the heat all the way the fuck up!" he
      barked. His disarming eyes blazed pure fire. "Christ, don't give me
      any I-told-you-so bullshit right now. I'm really not in the mood for
      it." He began striding towards the bathroom.

      "Hey, uh, Logan?" Rogue asked tentatively.

      "What!"

      "Do you think you could, um…," she trailed off.

      He halted. "What!"

      "Could you take a really long time in there?" After drawing a deep
      breath, Rogue closed her eyes and said, "You're not the only one who
      needs to take care of, uh…business."

      Logan looked nonplussed. "You're gonna masturbate out here?"

      Rogue blushed down to her toes.

      An immoral smile broke on Logan's lips and he scrubbed a hand down
      his face. "Fuck. There's a mental image I didn't need right now."
      He turned and went into the bathroom.





      Fifteen minutes later, Logan emerged from the shower. He felt
      considerably calmer but still a touch surly. Which, in his case,
      meant he was pretty much back to normal.

      "I have to go to the bank down the street to get some cash," Rogue
      informed him.

      He stared at her. "You have an account at this piddly-ass town's
      bank?"

      "I set it up on-line last night," she responded sourly.

      Rogue grabbed up her already packed bag and went outside; evidently
      she was determined to pretend as though nothing had happened. Logan
      dragged his fingers back through his wet hair, gathered his few
      belongings together, and followed her out. The two of them tossed
      their stuff into the truck.

      "Hey, Logan?"

      "What!" he snapped, venting his pent-up aggression.

      "I… Do you think you could come with me into the bank? I'm kind of
      nervous."

      Logan's irritability gave way to some alien impulse…something akin to
      a protective instinct. "Why?"

      "Maybe it's just more paranoia, but I don't like the idea of a single-
      branch bank. I probably should have opened the account first thing
      this morning, but I wasn't sure if their records update through
      constant streaming or if they do a data dump once at night, and I
      wanted to be sure my money would be available today. But that means
      those guys tracking me had over eight hours to find me."

      "Speak English, Marie," Logan demanded impatiently. "Are you saying
      you think those FoH assholes might have located you because you
      opened a bank account last night?"

      Rogue nodded.

      "Shit," he swore, raking his hand back through his damp hair
      again. "Why didn't you set it up in a larger bank? We could have
      stopped at an ATM farther down the road."

      Rogue's dark eyes opened large. "Shoot. Yeah. That would have made
      sense."

      Logan pinched his eyes closed in exasperation. "You tech geeks!
      Always making things harder than they need to be. Christ," he
      muttered thickly. Then he exhaled loudly in exasperated
      resignation. "But don't worry, sweetheart. You've got your own
      personal security guard…at your service."

      A sunny smile broke across Rogue's face. "Really?"

      "Sure," Logan answered, turning his back on her to head towards the
      bank. "You still owe me two-hundred fifty bucks. Gotta protect my
      investment."





      Once they entered the small, brick building, Rogue filled out a
      withdrawal slip, stood in line for ten minutes, and met with a
      representative to close out the account. The entire visit took less
      than thirty perfectly uneventful minutes. Rogue was skittish up
      until the time Logan's truck pulled out of town, at which point she
      began scowling.

      "Why so pissy?" he asked. "I'd think you'd be pleased nothing
      happened."

      "I am," she sighed. "It's just that every time I get all nervous and
      worked up like this, nothing comes of it and I'm left feeling as
      though I really am just totally paranoid."

      Logan shrugged. "Hey, maybe your fear is justified. Maybe the only
      reason nothing's happened so far is *because* you've been all freaked
      out and extra careful."

      Rogue seemed to brighten a little at that thought. "I like your take
      on reality."

      Logan darted his gaze to Rogue and found her dark eyes
      sparkling. "So, we gonna talk about this morning?" he asked gruffly.

      The spark died like a doused flame. "What's to talk about?" she
      replied quietly.

      "Oh, I don't know. How about telling me what the fuck exactly
      happened?"

      "I…I don't really know how to explain it," Rogue drawled, then
      exhaled. "It's as if I suck away your life force or essence or
      something. I'm like a parasite or some kind of vampire, stealing
      energy and thoughts and even personality traits…and apparently mutant
      powers when applicable. Take, take, take, take, take. That's what I
      do. Isn't that nice?" she asked facetiously.

      Logan ignored the sarcasm. An idea had begun forming. "You grab
      memories too?"

      "Some. Well, sort of," she commented. "It's weird – everything gets
      kind of jumbled up in my brain and then most of it fades away."

      "Did you get any off me?" Logan demanded.

      "Memories? Yeah, a couple, I guess."

      "Like what?" he insisted. When she didn't respond, he pressed, "Come
      on, Marie. Like what?"

      Rogue appeared flustered. "I…I don't know. It's like how dreams
      vanish after you've been awake too long. It's hard to sort out.
      They're mostly just scraps of evaporating sensations now."

      "Well, then concentrate, dammit!" he thundered. "What did you see?"

      "Stop harassing me!" she retaliated. "Let me think! I told you,
      everything's all mixed up in my head. There are just a few random
      pictures at this point, and they're disappearing. Um…I…I saw
      something about a war."

      "Which war?"

      "I mean, look, it's probably not right. I don't think it could be."

      "Which war?" he repeated more forcefully.

      "This is going to sound crazy," she hedged, "but I think World War
      Two."

      Logan felt something internal unclench. He'd never told anyone about
      those mental images bouncing around in his brain. "What else?"

      "I don't know, maybe…Japan? I saw a beautiful Asian woman in some
      sort of silk kimono-type outfit." Rogue shook her head. "Look,
      that's it. I mean, that doesn't even make sense, does it? World War
      Two, for Pete's sake?"

      "No – World War Two is right," Logan growled. "I don't recall
      anything about Japan, but I remember fighting Nazis in Europe."

      "But…but that's impossible," Rogue protested in disbelief.

      "I've got strong self-healing abilities," he explained. "Aging is
      the process of falling apart – I figure I stay put together too well
      to really get physically older."

      "Jeez," Rogue breathed out in awe. "Whoa! Is that what happens when
      those blades pop out of your hands? Do they actually slice through
      your skin?"

      "Did you think I had little slots for them?"

      "Well, yeah, I guess."

      "'Fraid not. I cut and heal every time."

      "Oh, gross!" Then Rogue quietly wondered, "Maybe that's why…"

      When she didn't supply any further insight, Logan rolled his eyes.
      Getting information out of Rogue gave new meaning to pulling
      teeth. "Maybe that's why what?"

      She shot him a tentative glance. "Maybe that's why nothing happened
      when I touched you this morning…I mean, at first."

      He blinked a few times. "So, normally you can't touch anyone – at
      all?"

      Marie shook her head.

      "I don't know," Logan pondered. "When that energy-sucking bit kicked
      in, it felt pretty unstoppable. I don't think my healing abilities
      had any effect."

      "Then I don't understand," Rogue groaned. "I haven't been able to
      touch people without draining them in three years!"

      "Wait… So you were, what, twenty, twenty-one when your mutation
      first surfaced?"

      Rogue nodded mutely.

      "That's weird. I've met a few mutants," he considered. "Most were
      either born with their abilities or developed them at puberty. I've
      only met one who developed his mutation so late in life, and in his
      case, it was triggered by a traumatic event."

      Rogue's eyes popped large and wide, but she said nothing. Not a good
      sign. "What happened to start all this, Marie?" Logan asked with
      deliberate calm.

      "I…" she broke off and frowned. Logan remained quiet. Time
      stretched and thinned, threatening to snap, until the oppressive
      silence seemed to seduce Rogue into filling the void. She closed her
      eyes and sighed. When she opened them, she kept her gaze locked on
      the cab's grungy floor. "I was in college, and one night I'd been
      working on a project at the computer lab. I'd gotten kind of lost in
      my head and hadn't realized how late it had become. I have this
      tendency when I do work to lose track of time and my surroundings
      and, well, pretty much everything but the computer screen in front of
      me," she explained.

      Logan had noticed that tendency. When he'd come back to the motel
      room from his walk last night, her attention had been locked like a
      laser on her laptop. He hadn't been remotely quiet slamming the door
      shut behind him, but Rogue had remained completely undistracted until
      he'd spoken directly into her ear.

      "It was pretty late," she continued, "and even though campus security
      was always warning students about wandering around alone at night, I
      started heading back to my dorm. And my brain was still kind of
      stuck in the problem I was working on, so I wasn't all that aware of
      things around me…"

      When she paused, Logan supplied, "You were attacked?"

      Rogue looked up; her chocolaty eyes were deep and liquid with
      sorrow. "Yes, I was attacked. I didn't even know what was happening
      until I was on the ground and he was on top of me." Her voice
      sounded detached, as if her brain were reliving the event but not her
      heart. "He tied my hands to a bike rack – he'd chosen the spot
      deliberately because of it – and he used his legs to pin mine down,
      kneeling on my thighs. Then he stuffed a rag in my mouth. His hands
      started tearing at my clothes while he tried to get his own jeans
      down at the same time. He was a bit too eager and couldn't decide
      what to do first…" she trailed off.

      "The bastard raped you," Logan ground out acerbically.

      "No," Rogue said, shaking free of her reverie and looking up at
      Logan. "No, he didn't get a chance to. He was on top of me, and I
      was so scared…like I'd never been scared before in my life. I felt
      completely helpless. He'd taken away every resource I had and
      blocked every course of action available to me. My arms and legs
      were locked down; my voice had been stolen from me. He was so
      powerful, and I just felt so…so…power-*less*," she struggled to
      describe.

      "So your body created a self-defense mechanism to protect you," Logan
      figured out. "You'd been made powerless, so you took his power."

      "That's a good way to put it," Rogue said, exhaling and nodding
      bleakly. "Before he could start…you know…I began absorbing all his
      energy."

      "Why didn't he just pull back?"

      "Why didn't you this morning?" she countered.

      "Okay," he allowed, "so it's a little disorienting."

      Rogue grimaced. "He actually collapsed on top of me. I just kept
      sucking him dry until someone found us."

      "Holy fuck," Logan breathed.

      "And you know what scared me most?" she continued, finding momentum
      in her disclosure. "In that moment, I was so confused and torn
      between both our personalities, I wasn't even really sure which of
      the two of us I was." She paused for a moment. "To this day I can
      still tap into his energy and memories. His name is Cody Robbins; he
      was an architect student at the time…a senior. He had a girlfriend
      but liked to attack girls on campus because he got off on their
      fright and the struggle. His usual pattern was date rape, but the
      act had begun doing less and less for him. The high he got from
      assaulting women was like a drug, but he'd started building up a
      tolerance, so he'd decided to induce more fear in his victims by
      jumping strangers in the dark. I was his first." Rogue shook her
      head and spat out a hard, humorless laugh. "Actually, when he
      stuffed that rag in my mouth, my initial thought was that it was
      chloroformed and that I'd pass out. But…afterwards…I knew that he
      liked his girls – that's how he thought of us: his girls – he liked
      his girls to be awake. It wasn't any fun for him if his girls didn't
      fight back."

      "Jesus fucking Christ," Logan grated, his fingers curling tightly
      around the steering wheel. "Did he die?"

      "Just about," she answered. Her tone of voice was savagely neutral
      but her body shuddered. "Another minute and I'm sure he would have.
      But someone found us and pulled him off me – he was in a coma by
      then. Every once in a while I contact the hospital to check up on
      his status. The last time I called, he was still unconscious."

      Logan digested the information. "Does your brain ever still get
      mixed up with the stuff you drained off him?"

      "It's kind of hard to tell," she drawled slowly. "I don't get
      confused between memories that are mine and his, but… Well, I think
      parts of him kind of…integrated into me." She paused, then
      whispered, "To be honest, my being afraid of hurting people isn't the
      only reason I get so freaked out when people touch me. Part of it is
      that…"

      When she struggled to make the confession, Logan
      suggested, "It's `cause you get off on the other person's power
      surging into you, right? That power lust scares you…"

      Rogue blew out a soft breath. "Words can't describe what a rush it
      is to feel someone else's energy coursing through your veins. At
      first I assumed that addictive urge was Cody's, and I'd absorbed the
      personality trait. But now… I-I don't know. It scares me to death
      to think that maybe that…that hunger was in me all along."

      Logan shook his head. "I doubt it. It wouldn't scare you so much if
      it'd been there befo—Oh shit!" he cried out in a moment of flashing
      comprehension. "I knew there was something I just wasn't piecing
      together!"

      "What?" Rogue asked, jarring out of her sorrowful memories.

      "Earlier, you only began drawing off me when you got scared.
      Everything was hunky fucking dory until I smelled all that fear
      pouring off you, and then *bam*!" He added emphasis to the last word
      by slamming the palm of his hand into the steering wheel.

      Rogue's brow crinkled. "So what? You think I won't absorb people's
      strength if I'm not afraid?"

      "You didn't this morning," Logan pointed out.

      "Yeah, but I was half-asleep."

      "Exactly. You were too out of it to *let* yourself be scared," he
      concluded. "Most of the time, you probably psyche yourself out.
      You're so prepared for the worst to happen, you freak out when anyone
      comes near you."

      "I guess that makes sense," she reasoned skeptically, "I mean that
      fear triggers the process…assuming it's what created the defense
      reaction in my body in the first place."

      She didn't sound convinced. Logan slowed the truck abruptly and
      pulled over to the side of the empty road. "Logan?" Rogue asked
      hesitantly. "What are you doing?"

      His topaz eyes flashed wickedly as he took his gloves
      off. "Conducting a little experiment."
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