Title: Animal Instincts|
Author: Donna Bevan
Fandom: X-Men movieverse
Rating: R (language, some sexual content)
Summary: A month has passed since Logan came back - how are he and Rogue doing?
Series: Adaptations #6
Category: Logan/Rogue romance
Disclaimer: So...I look like Stan Lee to you, do I? <smirk>
Dedication: This is for Jess, who challenged me to find the pseudoscience, but especially for Die, who inspired me with She's Not Marie, a truly wonderful fic…even if she did apologize for it. ;)
Logan lay awake in bed, on edge and unable to sleep. His head was aching, and his body was following suit.
The weeks since his return to Xavier's had flown by. He'd spent most of his time with Rogue, the two of them just talking and enjoying time together. She told him all about the end of the school year and about her summer and how it had gone. He'd ended up telling her about the places he'd been, what he'd found. All in all, there wasn't much to disclose, but she'd listened as if what he'd managed to uncover about his life actually mattered to her.
Logan wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to believe it really did matter to her, but it was a nice thought anyway.
He knew he was a pervert of the lowest order, but...Her birthday was only a few months away. She'd be eighteen, and Logan knew they'd be free to do as they wished - free to follow the dictates of their minds, if not their bodies. Xavier would give them their freedom and possibly his blessing. Funny, but that was what Logan wanted most - for the Professor to look at him with those kind, knowing eyes and tell him that he approved. Logan, the guy who'd never given a rat's ass about what was right or accepted, needed Xavier's support on this one.
His mouth twisted. Maybe it was because of the looks he'd been getting from some of the others. Jean was the only one who'd been inside Rogue's head, the only one who really knew. Unlike most everyone else, she didn't look at him like he was a convicted pedophile out on parole.
Like Ororo. She tried to hide it, but Logan could tell that she found the attraction between him and Rogue unsettling. He hoped she would, in time, grow to understand what was happening between them. He liked to think that Ororo's uneasiness over the subject was due more to her worry about Rogue than any actual problem with their relationship. At least, he hoped so.
Then there was that kid, Bobby Drake, the human Otter Pop. Every time Logan saw him, the poor kid shot him evil death looks from hell. Logan finally pulled him aside and tried to set things straight - he told the kid that he understood his anger and disappointment. He couldn't help but add that if he ever caught Bobby sliding a sideways look at his girl, he'd heap a ton of hurt on him, and it'd be the kind of hurt none of his handmade cold compresses would help. He took it well, almost like a man. He scowled and circled for a minute, then relented with a nod. They understood each other.
Logan wasn't worried about Bobby; Jean had commented on how Kitty Pryde seemed to be helping him pick up the pieces and move on, and Logan had smirked. The kid would be just fine.
Logan was, on the other hand, worried about Summers.
Oh, One-Eye most definitely did not approve of his feelings for Rogue. He'd cornered him in his room several days after his return, demanding to know why. Logan had known instinctively what he was asking - not why did he come back, but...why her?
The question had filled Logan with irritation, but it wasn't directed at Summers, not really. He was upset because, truth be told, he didn't have an answer. He didn't know why, except that maybe, just maybe, Rogue was the only person he could remember who'd truly seen him...and still cared.
But was that a good enough reason to bind her to him? And how could he make that kind of revelation to Summers without looking like a goddamned weenie?
In the end, he'd growled that his relationship with Rogue was none of his damned business, thank you very much, and could he please stay out of it? And he'd thought, for one crazy second, that Summers was going to give him a fight. An actual knockdown, drag-out, "anything ya bite off ya get to keep" brawl.
But it didn't happen. Summers never reached for his visor, never laid a fist on him. What he did instead was step up to Logan, face to face. "If you ever hurt her again, I'll kill you. And I'll do it with the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen, Logan, don't doubt that."
He did have an answer for that. "If I ever hurt her again, I want you to kill me," he'd replied bluntly.
Instead of looking shocked or skeptical, Summers had simply nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking just a little. Then he'd clapped a hand on Logan's shoulder and left the room.
So Logan supposed they understood each other, too.
He groaned and threw back the covers, climbing from his bed. Thinking instead of sleeping was getting him nowhere, and he needed to get his mind off of things. Needed to get his mind off Marie.
It started two days ago, the craving. Oh, it wasn't like he didn't spend every moment of every day wishing he could throw Rogue up against the nearest wall and ravish her...because he did. But this was different. Stronger. More demanding.
He'd walked into the dining hall the day before yesterday with little more on his mind than beef tips with rice and getting to see Rogue. Then, before he even caught sight of her, he sensed her. She was nearby, and she was filled with wanting. The knowledge had knocked him for a total loop, scrambling his brain and tightening his body.
The he saw her, and everything went to hell.
She was walking in the side door, talking to one of the new kids. His name was Renny LeBoof, or something stupid like that. He was from New Orleans, and Logan had overheard Jubilee and Kitty describe him as "sexy as sin and twice as good-looking." Now the red-haired devil was talking to Rogue - and wanting to do more than talk, from what Logan could tell. He growled low in his throat. He wasn't about to get edged out of the running by some two-bit Cajun charmer.
He started moving, and before he even had time to realize what he was doing, he'd wrapped his hands around both of Rogue's arms and pulled her away from the punk. When he started to object, Logan snarled and was on the verge of releasing his claws when Ororo stepped in, calling a halt to Logan's rather embarrassing display of macho possessiveness.
Logan flushed as he remembered the incident, humiliated by his own ridiculous behavior. He'd been ready to chalk the whole thing up to a startlingly stupid guy thing when Rogue had smiled, softly and secretly. That was when he knew that she'd been thrilled at his show of aggression, which was odd, because Rogue wasn't the type of woman who got into having men fight over her. She was too real, too honest, to enjoy that sort of thing.
So he started thinking something was wrong.
His suspicions were confirmed over the course of the next day. He literally could not stop thinking about Marie - her hair, her smile, the wicked way her body nipped in at the waist. When they were together, his senses became inflamed, and it was torture not to reach out and touch her. They shared long looks, and sometimes Marie would lick her lips or tilt her neck in a certain way, and Logan would lose his ability to think coherently. He only knew that he was in actual pain from not wholly taking her as his mate.
It was that thought, as well as the constant state of arousal he'd been suffering, that sent him running to the infirmary last night to find Jean. She'd been confused by his blathering, but she'd agreed to run some tests on Rogue.
A simple blood test confirmed Logan's fears - she was once again experiencing the hormonal fluctuations that accompanied her fertile cycle. Which, of course, meant that she was sending off some major physical signals, and he was picking up on every single goddamned one of them with animal precision.
Jean had made the requisite consultation with Professor Xavier, but they'd ended up not knowing what to do. At least this time Rogue wasn't losing consciousness or fighting an internal battle against her own body. Her proximity to Logan seemed to help alleviate the discomfort caused by her condition.
Logan had to make the decision for himself. He pulled Summers aside and said, "Lash me to the mast, Ulysses, or I'll end up throwing myself at her, and then you'll have one less schmuck picking on you." It was more plea than demand, and Scott had looked thoroughly bewildered.
In retrospect, Logan had to wonder if it was due to his begging, or whether Summers just couldn't quite believe he was actually familiar with the works of Homer.
Ultimately, Xavier had decided that isolating Rogue would be the easiest thing. He wasn't sure what would happen if they tried to restrain Logan - he'd argued that the Wolverine might make a particularly vicious appearance if they tried to keep him from his mate, and someone might end up hurt. Logan had found that he couldn't deny the possibility.
Rogue had agreed to spend as long as necessary in confinement. Even though every cell in her body was screaming out for Logan's, she'd do anything in her power to keep from hurting him. She wouldn't risk it. She couldn't.
The infirmary had two isolation chambers that were essentially cells made of tempered glass. Each one was ten feet square, with a security lock on the door that could only be opened from the outside with a five-digit code. They were equipped with video cameras, for observation, and narrow cots.
It pained Logan to see Rogue locked up, but she assured him it was for the best. "After all," she'd told him, "there's not a cell in the world that could hold you, right?"
When he'd risen from his bed tonight, Logan had intended on going outside for a walk. Maybe even do a little traipsing around in the wooded areas surrounding the compound. It would distract him, make the night hours fly a little more quickly.
He hadn't counted on the Siren call coming from the underground floors beneath him. He also hadn't considered the fact that any cell that couldn't keep him in also couldn't keep him out.
Scott eyed Rogue warily. It was well after two in the morning and she should have been asleep, but she'd crawled out of her bunk nearly a half hour earlier. Since then, she'd been pacing the floor and sniffing everything, looking for all the world like Logan on the prowl. It was odd, seeing so many of Logan's more primitive behaviors manifested in a slight female form clad only in scrub bottoms and a tank top.
Honestly, it was a little disconcerting.
He yawned, stretching his arms and leaning back in his chair. It had been a long night, but he didn't regret his suggestion that they maintain a round-the-clock watch over Rogue. His hours had just seemed to go by so slowly. At least Ororo would be down soon to relieve him.
Suddenly, Rogue approached the glass wall of her cell, spreading her hands across it. "Scott! Scott!"
"What is it, Rogue?" He rose from his chair and stepped closer to her. "Do you need something?"
She nodded, and he noticed that her eyes were a tad bit wild. "I need you to open the door."
Scott took an immediate step back, shaking his head. "I can't do that, Rogue. You heard Logan last night, didn't you? He's feeling out of control, helpless."
"I don't know about helpless," came the growl from behind him. He recognized the low voice a split second before being slammed face-first into the glass of Rogue's cell. She stared back at him, her expression a strange mix of remorse and triumph. He was flipped around to face a growling Logan. "But I am feeling a little out of control."
No, not Logan, Scott corrected himself. The Wolverine. The Professor was right. He struggled to raise his hand to his visor, but Wolverine had his arms pinned to his sides.
The man laughed and shook his head. "Can't have you giving me the old laser-eye, Cyke. Now, this is gonna be real simple, or it ain't, and that's all up to you. Simple is if you open that door and let me get Marie. Not simple is if you do anything else. What's it gonna be?"
Scott sent a mental distress signal to Jean, hoping she wasn't in too deep a sleep to feel it. He had no doubt that he could avoid harm if he just opened the door, but he couldn't let Logan kill himself because he was thinking with his little head instead of his big one. No matter what kind of dickweed the guy was, he couldn't do that. "No way, Logan. You're not getting in there. You'll have to kill me first." He was firm, immovable.
Something flashed in Logan's eyes, something that was equal parts desperation, sadness, and pure unadulterated rage. "I'm not just assing around with you here, bub. I need to get in there right now," he snarled. "So open the door, Summers."
A cry of fury rumbled in Wolverine's chest as he raised a hand to Scott's throat, extending his claws toward skin. At the last moment, he jerked his arm to the side. His claws struck the keypad on the lock, destroying it beyond repair. Sparks flew as he withdrew his hand.
"Good going, Logan. You're not getting the door open now, are you?" Scott tried his best to sound bored and only mildly irritated, but he was getting close to pissing himself. Where the hell was Jean? Where the hell was anybody? He was about to get sliced and diced just because Logan was horny! He could use a little backup.
"There's a manual override switch somewhere. Tell me where," Logan demanded, claws returning to poise at Scott's throat. "Now."
"Logan!" Ororo's stunned voice filled their ears. "What the hell are you doing?"
"He's gone nuts, Ororo. Whatever you do, don't let him in there with Rogue!" Scott's breath cut off with a hiss as adamantium grazed his Adam's apple. "I'm trying to protect both of you here, Logan. Please."
"No, you're not," he argued. "You're keeping us apart." He kept his eyes fixed on Scott as he addressed Ororo. "You know where the manual override for the door is. Use it."
Ororo stepped toward the control panel housed next to the door. Her hand hovered over the switch uncertainly. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, but it looked as if Scott might if she didn't do as Logan asked.
She closed her eyes and looked within herself for her answer. When she found it, she opened them again...and her hand fell on the override switch, activating it.
As soon as the locked clicked out of place, Logan shoved Scott aside and yanked open the door. Jean hurried into the infirmary just in time to see Logan stalk into Rogue's tiny cell.
"Scott, Logan, NO!" she screamed, nearly knocking Ororo over as she ran past her. Ororo just stood, her face pale, praying she'd made the right decision.
Scott scurried to his feet and tried to pry open the door, but the lock had once again engaged when Logan had shut the door behind him. He pounded on the glass, and was soon joined in his efforts by Jean. "Ororo! Get the switch!" she yelled, her fingers clawing at the door handle.
Logan and Rogue were oblivious to the commotion outside the cell. They hesitated, then stepped towards each other. Logan's hands slid around her waist, and she clutched his shoulders desperately. Through their clothes, they could each feel the heat from the other's body, could sense the culmination of so much need, so much longing.
Then they were lost.
Logan's mouth descended on hers, crushing and coaxing. One of his hands snaked up to guide her head, to turn it so that he was allowed complete access to the recesses of her mouth. He was rendered clumsy by desire, and the sliding of his tongue over hers involved more sheer want than skill. Still, she gasped and shuddered as his tongue danced with hers in a quiet but frantic imitation of the mating their bodies cried out for.
They didn't hear the frightened cries from outside the cell.
They didn't notice when silence fell, and shock reigned.
They didn't fully realize that Logan was unharmed by their contact.
They were aware of nothing but the joy of being together.