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

FIC: Driving Forces [1/4] R

Expand Messages
  • cajunbelle06
    Title: Driving Forces Author: CajunBelle Email: cajunbelle06@yahoo.com Rating: ** R Summary: This is a story placed 5-6 years into the future- and Rogue can
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 20, 2004
      Title: Driving Forces
      Author: CajunBelle
      Email: cajunbelle06@...
      Rating: ** R
      Summary: This is a story placed 5-6 years into the future- and Rogue
      can touch now, though she keeps it a secret. Rogue's been having some
      very explicit fantasies and Rogue and Logan's relationship is in for
      a drastic re-modeling. Part one in a series of four.
      Series: yes
      Category: X1
      Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own any of the X-men, not even
      Logan *sigh*
      Archive: Of course, it's always an honor to be archived, so if you
      want to use it, contact me using my e-mail address (above)
      Spoilers/Continuity: *** No spoilers as far as I know; continuity of
      X1 where I'm pretending X2 never happened, at least not yet, even
      though it's 5-6 years later
      Author's Notes:

      > Heat. Everything was heat, burning within and without. The woman
      > shuddered with it, her body writhing to escape it yet yearning to be
      > consumed by it. His breath was hot on the back of her neck, inches
      > away from her skin, sensitized nearly to the point of madness. His
      > touch scorched her; long, callused fingers traced over her neck and
      > shoulders, moved with aching slowness down her back, and spread out
      > to circle the flare of her hips. Some little inkling told her she
      > should recognize this touch, the hands touching her- and if she
      > hadn't been so new too this she would've known and pulled away as
      > instinct demanded, but she didn't.
      > No sound escaped her as he pressed his hard length against her back,
      > though she could feel his arousal with aching clarity. As if in
      > response to her unvoiced cry, the moist warmth of his mouth
      > to brush the hollow where neck flowed into shoulder; his tongue
      > moving in slow, delicious circles over her skin. Still, she found
      > gasps and moans of pleasure locked in her throat, even when his
      > left her hips to slide over her belly and capture her breasts. Her
      > nipples were already erect as he cupped her in his large hands,
      > against silky, yielding softness. His mouth sought the other side of
      > her neck, licking and sucking, while she arched in desperate,
      > silence against him.
      > And feeling him catch her nipples between his fingers was more than
      > she could bear. She struggled in his grip, and he obeyed her
      > desire, turning her in his arms. Before she could see his face he
      > lifted her, pressing his mouth between her breasts, his hands
      > her in place. She could do nothing but fling her head back, unbound
      > hair cascading behind her as his tongue moved in circles over her
      > heated skin, catching her nipple between his teeth. He moved from
      > breast to the other, claiming each thoroughly, ignoring her hands as
      > they clutched helplessly at his shoulders. The trapped cries in her
      > throat were an exquisite torture.
      > When he withdrew at last, she pressed against him, cold in the
      > absence of his scalding touch, but he let her slip down in his arms
      > and took her mouth in a kiss that drew the sounds of passion from
      > deep within her and set them free. Her own arms came about him,
      > raking his back as his hands tangled in her hair. His arousal was a
      > shaft of furnace heat against the inside of her thigh, rising to
      > her flowing warmth. In the instant before union, while he lifted her
      > onto himself and she prepared to take him, her eyes opened. And he
      > whispered a name. His face was cast in shadows, taut with hunger,
      > she could see his eyes. They were the source of the burning heat;
      > they radiated it, glowed with it. The full shock of those eyes
      > drained all the desire from her body and slowly replaced it with
      > shock.
      > "No!" she pushed at him, repelled his immovable strength. He was so
      > hard, demanding, staring at her with that hot, terrible gaze. Even
      > she struggled (inwardly as well as outwardly), she knew that if she
      > looked at him again, she would lose herself to him forever. His grip
      > tightened, and he forced her against him; he compelled her- he
      > compelled her to meet his eyes, to surrender, to submit to him now
      > and for all time. Her voice rose in a ragged cry of defiance, but
      > gaze was drawn irrevocably to his, and she was lost. Burning and
      > "No!" Rogue jerked to wakefulness, her body tangled amid the sheets
      > and blankets of the bed. The only sound was the harshness of her
      > breathing; there was no one with her, no burning eyes engulfing all
      > the world. For a long moment she lay gasping, trapped in the
      > warmth of the covers and staring into the sun-bleached darkness of
      > her room. She focused slowly on the odd but comfortable furnishings;
      > the old oak bureau and the compact stereo system, the various framed
      > photographs and artwork ranging from black and white to abstract to
      > multi-dimensional computer graphics. The first morning light,
      > a brilliant, broken shaft across the floor, gave the illusion of
      > midday and cast the corners of the room in deep shadow. She groaned.
      > It was only 4 am.
      > Rogue concentrated on the light until her breathing had slowed and
      > she was able to think clearly again. A nightmare. She reassured
      > herself with that thought over and over until its reality took firm
      > hold. With slow, deliberate movements she freed her arms and legs of
      > the entangling covers. They were soaked with perspiration; the
      > illusion of heat that had infused her nightmare had not been
      > a fantasy. It helped to remind her that the feeling of being trapped
      > had also come from a very real condition. But that was not entirely
      > comforting. Rogue could feel the remnants of another kind of heat,
      > coiling unfulfilled deep within her. There was moisture there, too;
      > her mind and body had reacted to the nightmare with an enthusiasm
      > that frightened her.
      > In the nightmare she had lost control- completely and irrevocably.
      > Her body had rejected the careful fetters that her mind had
      > to impose so many years ago. In her dreams her mind lost its
      > She sat up, ignoring the hard edges of the wooden headboard at her
      > back. Those eyes in her dream. She had recognized those eyes. Rogue
      > wrapped her arms tightly around herself and suppressed a shudder.
      > still wasn't quite sure who she'd been in the dream, and now doubts
      > were assailing her as to if it was even her dream (the first half
      > anyways), but it was clear who her lover had been. It was Logan.
      > For over six years she hadn't been able to touch without absorbing
      > someone's life-force, with risk of a painful death for them and
      > countless months of mental agony for her. And now, at twenty-one
      > years old, that she could touch thanks to her partial absorption of
      > Mystique (who was in a deep coma) and lots of control, her mind was
      > making up for those years with a vengeance. But Logan? Sure, when
      > was younger and new to all this she had a crush on him- and they'd
      > always had a close connection, not to mention that she'd had him and
      > his memories, in her head longer and more times than anyone. He was
      > almost as big a part of her as she was herself, in fact; but this
      > so far beyond all that it scared her.
      > Because of this, Rogue doubted that she could ever look at him the
      > same [innocent] way again, doubted she could run to him and hold him
      > and enjoy his affection like she used to. Especially since this
      > wasn't the first time she's had the dream; or, rather, put herself
      > it like that- even if she wasn't sure who she'd really been. Running
      > a hand through her long, brown and white striped hair restlessly,
      > sighed and clutched a sheet to her lithe, bare form as she slid out
      > of bed. Rogue padded over to the large oval mirror that hung over
      > dresser and looked at her appearance; flushed, wide-eyed and with a
      > fine sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. Forget the certain wetness
      > someplace else entirely.
      > She'd just taken a shower earlier that night, and had been so
      > exhausted she dropped into bed as is, but it looked like she was
      > going to need another one- for obvious reasons. Because it was
      > guaranteed that Logan would be up and roaming the halls already,
      > would later be right there in the kitchen with his morning paper and
      > coffee as she came down. Though his enhanced senses could catch
      > something miles off anyway. Making a face in the mirror, and
      > the small chill that just ran down her spine, she grabbed a fresh
      > of clothes and headed into her private bathroom- one of the perks of
      > having her own room in the adult wing. And nearly forty minutes
      > but still on edge, she stripped the sheets off her bed to prepare
      > them for the wash and fell onto her bare bed with a frustrated
      > It was gonna be hell trying to sleep again.
      > *****************************************************************
      > Part Two coming Soon
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.