Wicked Game

disclaimer: I don't own the x-men, just playing ...


note: ok ... finally some smut *s*

any mistakes you may find are mine


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“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Ah wanna ask you something.”

“Go ahead; ask me anything ye want …”

She chewed at her lower lip. “Oh wait, there’s something Ah wanna give you first”, Rogue said and scrambled off the bed and hurried to the vestibule. “Ah put it on the … oh, there it is …” Crawling back on to the bed again she took his hand, and placed something in the palm of it.

“If … if Ah decide to leave,” she said softly, and eyed him intently with her large brown eyes, “then Ah’ll be back for this some day.”

Logan opened his hand. Rogue had given him a thin silver chain.

“Here”, she continued, pulled the only piece of jewelry she wore off of her index finger, and handed it to him. “It’s only fair that Ah should give you the one thing Ah have left from before the power manifested itself. You gave me yours”, she finished, threads of uncertainty creeping though her voice.

“Rogue …”, Logan began. The ring was made of silver and MARIE had been engraved into the metal on the inside. He put it on the chain and fastened it around his neck. Smiling, he stroked Rogue’s cheek. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?” he murmured softly.

“Ah want you to be …”, she said quietly, while trying to hide behind that curtain of hair of hers.

“What darlin’?”

“Ah want you to be the first, to be mah first … for real. There’s no one that Ah can ever be this close to as you, because of my power … and yours.”

“Rogue, baby … I’ll do anything you want, you know that, and what you’re asking me … you sure, I mean really sure?”

“Yes, Ah want to know what it’s like, how it is supposed to be. Ah want it to be you because … because Ah know you care about me. Ah trust you, Logan, and Ah know you care … about me. You’re the closest thing to family Ah have left …”

Something inside him fell at ease at what she’d just said. “Okay, but I want to give you something first, to let you know I really, really do care about you.”

“Okay …”

“Turn around and sit in my lap, darlin, and lean your head against my shoulder. Grab my hand if you want to … if you need to.”

Rogue frowned at him. “What are ya gonna do to me?”

“I want to bring you over first, Rogue. I want you to feel safe, I want you to trust yourself with me”, Logan murmured, and brushed his lips against her neck. He drew on her scent, that flowery warm scent that was her. He wanted to mark her with his own too, knowing he could pick her out among hundreds of strangers just by sensing something that belonged to him. Mine. Rogue’s scent was everywhere, it mingled with his own, one twisting around the other, emerging, blending, sinking – it felt like nothing else he’d ever felt. The weight of her body against his own, having her face close to his – just watching her was everything. He traced the sides of her body, chest and belly and down those silky thighs – he did it slowly, and barely touched the skin. Logan could feel her breathing and something tighten inside her, of part desire, part fear. She was so scared of giving up control, to let go, to lose herself and letting someone else guide her. No wonder, knowing what experiences she’d been through. He wanted to help her, to heal those wounds, but didn’t know if his own healing ability would work on a wounded heart and mind, and Rogue had been in many ways so severely injured that even the very thought of trying and failing scared Wolverine. He could heal just about anything, lethal gunshots, broken bones and cuts, what ever it was. Wolverine knew he could heal Rogue if her injuries were physical, that much had been proved, but these old scars were something else. There was something soothing about touching her skin though, to sense it spill over into her.

The morning sun fell through the open windows, flowed over Rogue’s legs as Logan parted the bed sheet wrapped around her. She was beautiful. The muscles in her legs strained as he stroked the inside of her thighs, filling his and Wolverine’s senses with the heat and soft feel of them. Rogue turned her head, faced him and seized his hair before she found his mouth. She kissed him, breathed into it, shallow and fast. Her need crashed into Wolverine and brought a strangled sound from his throat. She wanted him. She wants me. And as Logan touched Rogue’s most sensitive parts, and found a pace that seemed to bring her closer to letting go, he stayed there. He felt the warm wetness spread though her body and it was like a slow burn – painful and pleasurable.

Rogue leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and lips half parted moist with his saliva, like a blazing imprint. She pressed her back against his chest, urged him not to slow down, by grabbing his hand and rubbing it against her cheek, down her neck, over her breasts. The sensation of her arousal made him crazy. He wanted to fuck her; he wanted so badly to press her body against the bed and thrust himself inside and own her. Mine.

Let go, Rogue, give yourself to me. Let go, sweetheart. She kissed him, and ran her hands down his legs, while mumbling things he couldn’t make any sense in. She seemed to be sobbing, when she wasn’t smiling, and she thought of him. She lusted after him, responded to his touch – everything came to Wolverine in small glimpses through her skin; the scent, the way her body was reacting to his very presence, and the things he did.

Logan Logan Logan Logan Logan ...

”Logan, Ah can’t take it anymore … no, please … please …”, Rogue panted, and squeezed his hand. She was squirming under his touch, so receptive to what he was doing to her that it took every effort out of him not to roll her over onto her back.

“Let go, darlin’… I’ll catch ye …”, he murmured, heard himself moan low into her ear, and felt her trip on the edge of the abyss in front of her. Taking the last step, she fell, and fell, she fell and spread through everything. The orgasm shot through her thighs and chest, and waves of raw pleasure leapt back into his and Wolverine’s senses. Stroking her hair he could almost feel some part of the lost Rogue he once knew fall into place, like in a jigsaw puzzle.

“You’re so beautiful, Rogue, ye really are so fuckin’ gorgeous”, Logan said softly, kissed and licked her neck. The skin was hot and moist, and it had his scent now too. As he nuzzled against her neck Logan suddenly felt the presence of Rogue’s power, like amber sticks glowing beneath the surface, ready to burst into flames. Waiting to destroy him.

Rogue trembled and covered her face in her hands.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“Then what is it?” he said, touched her shoulder and realized she wasn’t crying at all. Oh.

“Ye liked it then?”

Rogue turned around, on her knees between his legs. The facial expression made him think of a cat stretching and yawning in that typical lazy cat manner. It was like she’d fed, no other word came across Logan’s mind but that one and her cheeks had that healthy flush that came with being pleased, with being full of energy. She looked … revitalized – still panting, but there was an aura of desire around her, reaching after him.

“Wolvie …”, Rogue murmured and smiled in an almost sultry way – so unlike her that Logan had to arch his eyebrows at her. He could sense her appreciation of him laying there, her eyes wandering all over his chest.

He put his hands behind his neck, glad to see her at ease and relaxed in his presence. “How do ye feel, kid?”

“Ah feel … it felt wonderful”, she said and seemed to ponder on something for a while. “You know, Ah’m so used to take care of … that … on mah own … Ah never imagined anyone else doin’ it for me, but you … and Ah’m glad it was you, and ya know Ah’ve had ya present inside me for so long, and … well … it’s always been you, for many reasons, Wolvie …”

She placed her hands on his thighs, traced the muscles in a deliberately slow pace which made Logan visualizing her hands working themselves upwards, fuck he was so hard and wanted her so badly, he almost threw himself at her. All this talk about Rogue pleasing herself, just the thought of her having done that so many times, with him being in the same building, and all the while she’d been thinking about him … But he wasn’t a dog … or tried not to be.

“Happy to hear it and I’ll do it again if ye want me to, whenever ye want it”, he said and reached for the cigar in the ashtray.

“Never mind that,” Rogue said softly, nodding towards the bed stand, “you can smoke later. There’s still something Ah want to give you, something Ah want to have.”

“Rogue …”

“Something you owe me, Logan …”

She unwrapped the bed sheet and exposed her body – the skin displayed the shade of dark honey, caused by the morning sun and the light swept around her, highlighted some places and hid others. Rogue resembled a painting, although he couldn’t remember which one. All he could do was trying not to stare too hard at her.

“Come here.”

“You sure about this?” Logan asked while getting up on his knees, knowing his conscience and morals had already fled the room long ago. He pulled Rogue closer to him, the movement caused her to let out a small gasp, as he cupped her bottom. Her nipples brushed his chest and made him groan of withheld lust. He held her gaze, but wanted to press his mouth against those half parted, moist and full lips of hers. Rouge really had the most luscious mouth he’d ever seen – it seemed made for kissing and biting and sucking. It was something about the way she always seemed to be pouting, not a lot just slightly, that made her so tempting.

“You look like Wolverine now, except for the claws”, she mumbled, short of breath, while raking her hands down his chest. Rogue pulled at the towel. “And Ah have to see ya, Wolvie, Ah have to see all of ya. Ah have to touch ya, and Ah want you to touch me, Ah need that, Ah need it.”

Logan slowly undid the towel, all the while keeping eye contact with her. The tension of it all made his skin ache and his body tighten, because he wanted to fuck her, he wanted her to fuck him, and he wanted to feel the inside of her and feed on that lust. He wanted her, and felt the yearning pour out of her when she looked at him. It was all it took; he was hard and ready and nearly staggered being this close to her, having her gaze upon him.

As gently as he could, Logan laid Rogue down across the bed. Her chest heaved, but she said nothing. There was no need for words, not for Wolverine, and now not for Logan. Rogue was laying there naked and her body showed no signs of injuries, at least not the ones he’d caused earlier. She traced her hands down her body and up again, paused to cup her breasts for a while. The hair spilled around her head like a fan, a dark brown fan with two white streaks in the centre – Rogue’s trademark as of late.

Logan nudged Rogue’s legs apart and positioned himself on top, his body merged into hers. The need made his skin crawl, like thousands of invisible ants were marching across it. He wanted her with such intensity he could hardly think about anything else but driving himself inside her. He had to behave himself, try to remember this was supposed to be her first time. He wanted it to be special in every way; he wanted her to remember what it had felt like and know this was the real deal.

“You sure you still want this, Rogue, because pretty soon it’ll be too late to change your mind”, he breathed. It took every effort not to push inside her right away.

“Yes. Yes, if it’ll only be one time in mah life then Ah want it to be now, and with you, Logan. With you, Wolvie,” she pulled him down for a kiss and murmured against his lips, “Ah want you inside me. Ah need you inside me. You hear me, Logan? Ah want you to show me what it is supposed to be like.” Rogue wriggled and moaned underneath him and arched her hips off the bed. She was so wet and full of desire that he almost couldn’t breathe.

“Look at me, I want ye to look me in the eyes when I do this, when we do this, darlin’.”

“Then do it now, Wolvie, do it now … damn it … please, Logan …”

He knew she was open and ready, and eased himself inside the warmth of it all, in one smooth motion. Rogue moaned and seized his hair. Her face was a mixture of emotions written on it. Logan grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. He kissed her, sucked her lips and tasted her with his tongue and mouth. Her neck tasted vaguely of vanilla and salt, and underneath it all that scent that was Rogue. Marie. Being inside of her, having her meet his thrusts, urging him to go faster, deeper …

Knowing he wouldn’t last forever, burying himself within Rogue, as much as he could, Logan tried to wager as long as possible on the edge. He drank of her scent, memorized every part of her body as if it was a treasure map that would magically disappear when he’d gotten the first glimpses of its hidden meanings. The thought of leaving his own marks, like invisible signs, imprints of the dark fire that rippled between them, excited him. It roared in his head, rushed through every body part and forced its way out of him as he cupped one of Rogue’s breasts, licked and sucked at the nipple. Through it all, it was like trying to pick out sounds in a raging storm, Logan heard Rogue moan of pleasure and mumble his name, and Wolverine’s, as she held his gaze, her eyes wider than ever – like two gleaming bonfires. He couldn’t help but smile at that, her newfound fondness of calling him ‘Wolvie’.

Thrusting himself back and forth between darkness and light, between worlds – hers and the outside, he rushed through everything with the frantic speed of a hunted animal, except that he too was the hunter. That Wolverine was the hunter, and they’d caught her scent long ago – faint traces of lilies and jasmine. Now they’d come to claim her, as she’d claimed and defeated them already, to take what she offered. What she wanted them to take and receive. What she wanted. And as he squeezed Rogue’s thighs, emptied himself deep inside her, Logan groaned and panted and snuggled her sweaty neck. The release was consuming, breathtaking. It was heaven.

He was home.
She was home.