
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/338513.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Logan_(X-Men)/Rogue
  Character:
      Logan_(X-Men), Rogue_(X-Men)
  Additional Tags:
      Porn_Battle_XIII
  Collections:
      Porn_Battle_XIII_(Lucky_Thirteen)
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-12 Words: 473
****** Sweet ******
by JaqofSpades
Summary
     They were due for a talk. About control, and tolerance, and testing
     her limits.
Notes
     Porn battle XIII prompts: skin, sweet, tolerance
The first time, she killed him, and only the fact that his dumb body didn't
know how to die saved him. He's haunted by a black, sweeping tide, and the
agony of his soul being ripped out, but mostly, he remembers the horror of
watching his claws sink deep into the body of an innocent.
It hurts less, the second time. She's strapped into Magneto's obscene
invention, dying, and he begs for the pain, that incomparable death. When it
comes trickling in, he presses his lips to her forehead in a frenzy of
gratitude. Her skin tastes sweet, he thinks, and it's the last thought he takes
into the blackness, and his first on waking, three days later.
The next time he touches her, no one is dying, or desperate. Her ankle would
have healed well enough, given time, but seeing her hobble about the place
annoys him. It's unnecessary, he grumbles. Inconvenient. (Sweet, so sweet, his
animal sings.)
He shoves the impulse down, and waits. A morning jog through Xavier's woods,
and they pause to admire the frozen beauty of the lake. He grabs her hand,
fingers stroking the bare skin that peeps between top of glove and bottom of
sleeve. He wants to bring it to his lips but her eyes are terrified, so he
relinquishes it out of respect for her fear. That, and her mutation drops him,
leaving him stunned but conscious on the margins of a picture postcard.
Lying in bed that night, he is trying not to think about her when the
realisation lands. It had been painful, but not agonising. Forceful, but not
irresistable. Something had changed.
He slips it into conversation casually.
&#x201C;Hey kid. You controlling it now?&#x201D;
&#x201C;What? My skin? No, Logan. Trust me, sugah, you'll be the first to
know,&#x201D; she smiles, and the promise shining from whiskey-coloured eyes
makes the animal purr.
He doesn't say anything more, because he knows she'll be wondering why he'd
asked soon enough. And he is fresh in her head, every carnal impulse and impure
thought laid bare. (Lick, there, that spot on the side of her neck. Lap the
sweat from where it pools in the centre of her back. Push her down on the
frozen ground, knees apart, and drown in the taste of her thighs, her clit, her
cunt, her tight little asshole.)
He wasn't gonna chase down a teenage girl, but if she comes to him &#x2026;
well, no one ever accused him of being the good guy. He'd leave it a few days,
see if she figures it out for herself. If not, they are due for a talk. About
control, and tolerance, and testing her limits.
Because the next time he touches her, he plans to stay on his feet.
(Taste her. Mark her. Fuck her. Own her. So, so sweet.)
fin
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
