X-Men - ... can you save me from myself? (PART 3)
TITLE: ...can you save me from myself?
FANDOM: X-men
{during the third movie}
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: smut // bad, bad language
{fluffy-lover? Don't bother.}
PAIRING: Rogue/Pyro, hints of Rogue/Bobby
STATUS: 3/3
SUMMARY: She could still back away. Gods, he wished she would - do it, change your mind, get the fuck away from here, you fucking idiot - because if she didn't... she'd regret it.
A/N: Here it is, the third and final addition to the ”... can you save me from myself?” I just want to thank all of those who bothered to comment, because it really boosted my ego big time. I don’t consider Rogue/Pyro being one of the easiest fandoms to write, one my favorites, yes, absolutely, but the characters can really be bitches and give you some hard time. So, thanks for all the nice words - if no one had said those, I would not have been this fast. It’s 7am and I haven’t slept yet, in fact, I just finished the previous part and I’m already, with my eyes barely staying open, itching to write the final part. I’ll write this AN and go to bed, I swear…
{Random note, my sister and I counted how many times I say ‘fuck/fucking’ in one of my fics. The fic has 5000 words and the said word is there about 40 times. Is that a lot? I honestly can’t tell… meh.}
Weird. With this piece it seems so difficult to write any action (with the Best kind of Reality it was so, so much easier) because in this one, I REALLY enjoy being inside their pretty little heads playing mind games… oh well. Hope you aren’t disappointed ::rolls eyes:: and if you are… I really don’t care. You write it better, then, dude. It was supposed to be a bit more violent though, but as usual those stupid characters NEVER do what I want them to. Oh well.
{Saliva never fails you. Listen to 'Always' and you just have to write something, I swear}
Review and I might be tempted to write more Ryro, meh.
---- ♥ Complaints about my grammar shouldn't be pointed at me. Instead, they can be sent to scatterhearts as she's the poor, poor thing that offered to beta my typo-filled, grammar-hating fic. HA. (What I mean to say is THANK YOU, of course, but with me nothing's ever quite that simple)
---- ♥ Feel free to friend my journal if you wanna stay up to date with my stuff, you don't have to ask. All my really personal rants will be friends only, anyways :) You don't have to let me know, either, unless you want me to add you back, in which case, check out the user info first so that we’re on the same page.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, blah blah, no money is being made, etc etc, don't sue me, yada yada.
· PART 1
· PART 2
... can you save me from myself?
by Syrai
PART 3
She didn’t look back.
She ran onward, lungs burning with the lack of air, not caring about the pain stinging somewhere along her side. She had lost one of her shoes while running, she wasn’t sure when, but even the scorching pain in her bare foot didn’t stop the rapid movement. Nothing could. It was pure adrenaline that pushed her forward now, made her feet take one step after another and ignore all the glass, all the dirt, she ran over.
Rogue wasn’t afraid. She ran, knowing - no, feeling that he was following her, heard him getting closer, but yet she wasn’t scared. He’d probably catch her anyway, possibly even hurt her if she’d read the message in his eyes right, she knew all this, but instead of giving up, hiding or even asking for help, she simply kept going.
It was all a big damn game to him; nowadays everything was. It was what made him him, the little trait that made John turn into Pyro.
Maybe he’d never been truly John, she realized, maybe his true character had always been named Pyro, but the outside world hadn’t been able to deal with that. Chances were he had been a darling 5-year-old boy who had wanted nothing more then to belong, to be loved for who he was. She couldn’t tell for sure. He never spoke of his past and when she’d touched him, there’d been too little time and too many layers to peel off in order to reach the ardent core.
And if she were true to herself, like she wanted to be, because that was how she had been brought up, she had to admit that it had never even occurred to her to try and understand him. The people in her head, they never left her, she always kept a piece of them, but when his essence had been the strongest for that short period of time, she had just wanted it to end.
But now, thinking back, Rogue could actually relate - it was a realization she didn’t particularly like, but couldn’t hide either. She if anyone knew how pressuring people could be and so, she simply figured the outside world and their fucking fears, was what had made Pyro like this…twisted. It probably wasn’t the ultimate word she was looking for, but for now, it was the only one that popped into her head. Maybe there was no word for what he had become, because he was something completely different, something unique. If Wolverine hadn’t been there to bring her back to the school - and if Magneto hadn’t tried to kill her, of course - who knows, maybe she would’ve been just like him.
So no, she wasn’t afraid, but angry and above all, determined. She just wanted to show him that; let him know he had no power over her, not in the way he wanted to. I’m not afraid of you, Pyro; I never will be, never again.
The pain was starting to be too much, taking her breathing from minimal to zero. She had to stop, now, and take a deep breath before she’d collapse out of pure exhaustion. Find a place, any place, her mind screamed at her, just go and hide right now, you stupid little girl!
He was still following her when she saw an old, massive looking building on the other side of the street. The whole place looked to be a rundown hotel under construction, at least the sign above the door said “hotel” with letters that had used to be bright neon. There was another, smaller sign below it, but she didn’t give it another thought, only stormed across the street, nearly flew up the stone stairs leading to the wooden door, and slammed against it with all her might.
With a second slam and inconceivable ache unnerving her shoulder (not to mention his amused laugh reaching her ears signaling he was getting closer and closer, although he was walking now), the door gave in with a creak. Rogue wailed as she flopped down, trying to soften the fall with her hands. Yet another pair of cuts appeared on her body, bleeding, but she ignored the wounds, jumping up as fast she could. She only had a second or two to take in the surroundings, smell the mold and try and decide where to go next.
Upstairs!
She ran through the hall avoiding the dusty construction frames lying all over the place, and just when she reached the stairs, hand already on the rail, the door flared up into flames and fell to the floor. She had expected it, but still it managed to shake her. Involuntarily, she paused biting her bottom lip nervously, eyes wide with surprise and just stared at the fitted-carpet covering the stairs as if it had been the most fascinating sight she’d seen.
Everything after that was hazy, unreal somehow.
To her it seemed like a passing second when he was already there, behind her, too close… but yet it never crossed her panicking mind to start running again. She was still panting from the run before, which amused him highly, but the closer he got, the stronger the sound of his irrational breathing came, the slower her own breathing turned. When he finally reached her it seemed she’d stopped breathing all together.
Pyro stood there for a moment without saying anything, mainly to catch his breath again. Plus, he was pretty sure it would add its own taste to the current state of her mind, which he hoped to be damn nervous. She was standing on the 5th step, one foot already on the next one and her left hand on the railing, fingers wrapped around it so firmly that he thought they just might leave eternal marks on the wood.
Efficiently closing the little space between them, he stepped up and stopped on the 4th step contemplating on what to do next. He wanted to punish her for trying to run away, but praise her for fighting. He wanted to fuck her hard, right there, on the stairs, to show her how it was supposed to be done; to hurt Bobby. He wanted to fucking videotape it all and send it to the fucking popsicle in a pink gift wrap to show him how it was done.
And well, to make sure he’d never take her back.
Love, John Allerdyce.
He closed his eyes smirking deviously and with a cocked head, leaned towards her and breathed in the bewitching scent that had never stopped haunting him. She gasped quietly when his hands suddenly wrapped around her body and pulled her against him, forcing the girl to lower both of her feet to the same stair to keep her balance.
Rogue grabbed his fingers that were locked around his own arms, trying to fiercely pry them open. She didn’t wriggle against him, though, for she had seen enough r-rated movies to know what would happen then.
Then, unexpectedly, Pyro changed his position again, but only with his fingers - before she could resist, they had already snatched her attacking hands into his grip.
”You know,” he started against her back, purring, “We really don’t need these anymore.”
They didn’t need what? At first she didn’t get what he meant, but when he slowly started to remove her long gloves the reality came crashing down on her.
She had no powers. There was nothing to keep him from…
He knew for sure that she had finally caught up with the plot, when her cool composure came crumbling down. She started panting again, horrified, not wanting to experience whatever it was that he had planned for her.
Rogue wanted to wriggle free, she wanted to struggle.
But…
But… oh God…
0000
He had removed her gloves. Completely. Pulled them off, tossed them away over his shoulder and captured her fingers with his own receiving a muffled moan, which he assumed, had been intended to be a protest. Hadn’t quite come out as one, now had it? He took his time, doing nothing but stroking her fingers and playing with them in his hands, drawing pictures against the pale, soft skin…. that was it, all he was doing, and still, every moan she let out hit his groin just the same as if it had been her hands touching him, her mouth around him.
Teasing him…
His skin was so warm. So alive.
She couldn’t stop the moans, couldn’t keep her body from slightly leaning closer to him. It had been so long since she’d been touched and fuck, you could really tell. Felt amazingly satisfying to find out, one by one, all the little mistakes Bobby had made when it came to this marvelous creature he was holding close. Seemed Drake still hadn’t started fulfilling his duties in the touching department, which made him wonder if it meant that she was…
Okay. It was getting even better.
He had intended to make her scream his name and beg. He still did, but this time, with a slightly different approach.
Pyro could hear her whine in protest when he let go of her hands, but she didn’t have to go without skin contact for long, because the next thing she knew she was face to face with a pair of blue eyes. He had turned her around and placed his hands on her hips, carefully tugging her shirt from the waistband of her trousers and she had no choice but to place her own hands on his shoulders. She justified it by thinking - lying - it was the only way to ensure her balance. They didn’t belong there… how was it then that they still fit there, so beautifully, so perfectly?
It amazed her, he amazed her. Not the way he was looking straight into her eyes in a manner that made it impossible for her to turn her gaze, but the way he was touching her… his fingers were now on her sides, slowly - as if waiting for refusal - traveling up and down, tickling and she… she laughed.
Hearing her laugh, for him, caused an electric surge through his veins, which was something he had not expected to happen. She had never laughed like that, not for him, but for Bobby. She’d laughed at him, though, countless of times and always, always mocking.
Fuck. Why did he feel so pleased by the fact she hadn’t turned him down?
It was wrong, all wrong. She was supposed to fight and he was supposed to overpower her, show the girl her place. Although, admittedly, taking her like this, willingly, would certainly be the best kind of weapon towards Bobby (Hey, Ice, I fucked your girl!) the next time the fucker decided to come and screw up his plans.
And it means you want me, the voice said, you fucking want me.
That was something he’d never forget.
Time after time you told me I was fucking insane. That one time near the dorms, remember, Marie? You said I’m one cocky son of a bitch, who thinks too highly of himself, who has no one in his life to love and return that love. You're nothing but a pile of shit and everyone knows it, that’s what you said to me, and you hate it, John, hate the fact they all know.
No, what he hated was the fucking fact she refused to accept him for who and what he was. John, always John for fuck’s sake!
He had to say something. Anything to break the spell she had put on him, because this was not how it was allowed to go, it couldn’t end like that. All those things you said to me, I’ll prove you wrong, I’ll show you what I truly am.
“I always knew Ice don’t know how to handle your sex drive, but this is just pathetic, you know?”
The words said with that malicious, mocking tone were like a fucking slap across her face, something that woke her up from the dangerous trance. Like a knife in the heart. You just had to do it, you fuck. You just had to fucking do it; you couldn’t let it go… Immediately she drew her hands away, trying to pull back. Anticipating her next move, however, Pyro had grabbed her hips in a manner that left her very little room for another escape attempt. When she tried to push him away, he grabbed her fists, moving them to lie against his chest.
She could feel his heartbeat, fast and steady beneath her touch. Strong.
For crying out loud, what had she been thinking? Had she really been… giving herself to him? Oh, God, no. Bobby…
You love Bobby, remember? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? It’s him, he’s doing something to you.
But she knew the truth. For a moment there, he had been doing something. He had been doing the one thing she desperately needed but couldn’t have. Now Rogue had no witty response to add to the conversation, nothing to say. Whatever she’d say now, he could twist around. You fucked up, Rogue, you fucked up.
“I mean seriously,” he continued as she looked away, ashamed of how she’d let things progress, “if you’d just let me know when I was still around, I could’ve fixed this little problem pro bono.”
She was growing angry, he just knew it. Such an intoxicating moment it was, he could almost feel himself getting high. He’d always known there was something about her, something captivating, but never had he thought that she could be like a drug. Better, honestly and he hadn’t even reached the best part yet!
He didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to lose a single moment and so he stood there looking at her, just watched how she bit her lip trying to keep the angry tears in. Watched how her teeth twisted the full, red lip so hard he expected to see blood any minute thinking, wondering, what that tongue, that blood, would taste like.
“Or maybe it’s been Wolvie scratching the itch all along?” he laughed sourly, but the laughter was cut short when she suddenly detonated like the time bomb she was.
Good.
“I hate you!” She screamed at him, fighting to release her captured wrists, not giving another thought to what was coming out of her mouth, “I fucking hate you so much! We tried to help you, we tried to be your friends but you’re so fucking full of yourself you didn’t see that! You were so jealous of Bobby, of Wolverine, of Cyclops, ‘cause they are so much better than you! So jealous ‘cause they have something you don’t have and you have no other way around that, no other way to get back at them but to fuck around with me! You’re the one who’s pathetic, John, you are! You couldn’t even take me on when I had my powers but you; you had to wait till I’d taken the Cure!”
She had no time react, only to whimper. She was thrown down against the stairs with such force that all the air vanished from her lungs, leaving her breathless. The pain in her already hurt shoulder doubled and she was pretty sure she’d have a fucking huge bump on the back of head very, very soon. He was standing above her, but when she moved to get up, to possibly scream some more, she hadn’t decided yet, he came down on her, slamming her already bruised body back against the sharp edge of the stairs forcing her hands to her sides, next to her face.
It hurt, hurt so much that the tears ran down her face regardless, but she didn’t cry. They were silent tears cried by her body, not by her mind.
“I was there, Marie,” he spat, his breath touching her face, eyes pouring secrets into hers, “I watched you there, thinking you’re fucking out of your mind for doing it, for taking the Cure. I wanted to stop you, but I didn’t, cause it was your damned decision. I was supposed to kill them all, kill you and I didn’t. Why the fuck didn’t I?”
Why are you telling her these things? Shut up, shit, shut up! Why the hell was he pouring his soul to her? It was so easy, so very fucking easy for her to use it against him, everything he said, every spoken word and yet there he was, telling her the kind of things she was never supposed to find out. But she had to hear it, he needed her to know.
“You wasted your gift,” Pyro hissed through gritted teeth, pressing his face even closer to hers, “and I know why.”
Her eyes were fixed on his as she spat back, “You know nothing.” She said it meaning every word, but there was that doubt, that grey area somewhere inside her guts that made her think that maybe… maybe he did. Maybe he did know. Maybe he was the only one that did.
“I don’t?” He insisted sarcastically, “Oh I think I do. You want him to fuck you.” Not trying or even wanting to control himself, his fingers dug deeper into her wrists, emitting yet another low whimper from her end. “You’re in need and that, my dear, is what this is all about,” he continued, disgusted, “You gave yourself away ‘cause that one son of a bitch is too scared to touch you.”
She shook her head, shook and shook, blinking the tears away. Yeah, it was obvious she wanted to disagree, but couldn’t find the words to express it.
He didn’t wait. Not now, not now that he knew she was breaking. “I watched them throw stuff at you,” he confessed, voice softening.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Pyro? Why are you exposing yourself like this?
… he didn’t know. He just had to.
“And I wanted to rip their hearts out, you hear me? Not because they were hating us, not cause of what they were, but ‘cause they were hatingyou. Hurting you.”
And what was he doing, huh? “You’re hurting me, too,” she tried, but he only smirked. “Yeah, well, this time you deserve it.”
No, she was sure she didn’t. She’d done nothing to him, nothing to deserve this kind of treatment. He couldn’t be mad at her just because she’d taken the Cure, it couldn’t be that. There was something else behind this, something more than Bobby.
“Why are you doing this?”
There it was, the question he had been waiting to come up eventually.
And it's not gonna be pretty, Marie, it's gonna make you cry and you'll beg, you'll beg for me to stop and you know what I'll say? Wanna know what I'll say, huh?
“You brought it on yourself, Marie.” And you know, just because I can. I’m strong enough and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me. Not a thing you can say to make me feel sorry for you. She could cry all she wanted to, but it wouldn’t stop him.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he decided to put her mouth to better use, do something better with his time than listen to her list of insults.
His mouth covered hers.
Rogue’s eyes widened and the reply on her lips died.
Oh my God… she couldn’t move her head, couldn’t keep him out. This wasn’t a kiss. This was something she had never experienced before. His teeth kept clashing against hers, wounded her lips and drew blood whenever she tried to close her mouth. Just like Pyro, his tongue definitely didn’t ask for permission to explore.
“The thing is, if it had been me, I would’ve fucked you, Marie. I would’ve touched you,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her again and releasing her other wrist to wipe the skunk stripe from her face as it was trying to edge itself into her mouth where there was no room for extra visitors. While doing so, he could feel something wet against his knuckles and it took a minute, before he remembered.
Oh, right, she’d cried.
Pyro didn’t want to think about it - why he suddenly felt remorse over something so simple as having made her cry - and so, he ignored the feeling and finished his speech with the line she’d always wanted to hear.
“I was never scared of you, Rogue."
Always wanted to hear from Bobby fucking Drake.
0000
Now she was scared, but not of him. It was those mixed up emotions she felt that scared the living shit out of her. You have to put an end to this, you have to stop him. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Bobby’s skin against hers. That it was Bobby who made her feel wanted.
Then why didn’t she close her eyes?
I was never scared of you, Rogue.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, “I love him… only him.”
Whether the trigger was the fact she said it didn’t matter - it did, he knew it - or the fact she dared to lie to him about loving Bobby - you don’t, you could never love him - the result was still the same. Before she could say another word or even see the warning in his eyes, he’d started pulling her shirt up and over her head, still holding her other wrist. When it turned out to be an impossible task to accomplish like this, you know, with Rogue fighting to keep her arms down and trying so desperately to kick him away now that she knew where he was going to take things, he finally got bored with it… she heard the distant click, which sounded very similar to the click she had once grown accustomed to, but there was something different about this.
But it still hurt.
From where had the fire appeared into his hand, she didn’t know, didn’t care, but it hurt like hell… burnt her skin.
He’d always thought there was something delicious about the smell of burnt flesh, probably because of his connection to the fire and she’d never understood it. Still didn’t. It made her want to throw up, empty her stomach of everything, all the way.
When it was too painful, when she simply couldn’t handle it anymore or keep the tears in, she pleaded for him to stop.
I’ll stop when you stop, his eyes said while his mouth grinned, and she did. She stopped struggling against the inevitable, after which it was remotely easier for him to remove the shirt and reveal her blue bra.
Blue like ice. He snorted. No fucking surprise there.
He’d have to get rid of that soon, but not now. Her breathing hitched as the tip of his tongue touched the part of her breast the bra didn’t cover, leaving a wet trail of saliva behind as it traveled.
Her body was exhausted, drained from all the fighting, but still there was something stirring there, near her pelvis. When he pushed his hips forward, making her feel, actually feel what she was doing to him, her back arched. No, no! It wasn’t the kind of reaction she’d wanted to give, but…
Yeah. It was more than he had hoped for.
Without saying anything, he suddenly grabbed her forearm and pulled them both up. She was about to ask what the fuck he was doing, when she was slammed against the wall, his mouth on hers. She couldn’t stop it, her hands that were on his shoulders, pushing down the jacket he was wearing didn’t listen to her. Her leg that he’d just lifted to his hip didn’t want to go down and really, she didn’t even tell it to. Her tongue, it was singing its own song - the one where it praised his taste and wanted more.
She didn’t want this.
His jacket fell down and soon after, his shirt suffered the same fate.
Her body, however, did.
She was on fire, which, when she thought about it later, was rather ironical given the situation.
Rogue didn’t know when she’d started kissing back or when her mouth had actually moved to his neck. It was all happening so fast, each devouring the other. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same, hers were doing the same. Traveling up and down, grabbing, stroking, tickling. Finding new places, areas she’d never known existed in male anatomy. Bumps and hills.
“Sometimes passion just is fire,” he murmured into her ear, but she didn’t understand what it meant. For a second there she was almost tempted to ask, but she figured he wouldn’t have answered anyway. Pyro liked to have his secrets, that was a known fact.
Then they moved again; Pyro rolled them over so that his back was now against the wall and smirked at her surprised expression. It didn’t say surprised for long, though, for she was already pulling him closer again, trying to wipe off that damned smirk. She didn’t need to be reminded of the fact she was making the biggest mistake of her life; the kind that felt and tasted so absolutely good and delicious that you couldn’t get enough of it.
It was just the feel of skin against skin, her mind screamed, you could have this with Bobby, too! You just need to leave first!
But she didn’t.
After a few more rounds of rolling against the wall, stumbling and tripping, they finally reached the second floor.
He’d thought they’d better find a room and a bed, but now that they’d reach the floor, he abandoned the idea. Rogue, she didn’t need a room and really, it would’ve taken too much time anyway. He didn’t want to walk another meter, never again.
He’d been right all along, hadn’t he? Such a perfect match.
No words were exchanged. He pushed her farther way, just enough to slip a hand between them to unzip her trousers. He pushed them down and she, somewhat eagerly be it noted, stepped out of them and kicked them aside with the lonely shoe accompanying them.
Then it was the blue (fucking piece of shit, you should never wear this color) bra that vanished from her body and was tossed down the stairs, as far away as possible. When his lips found her breast and the slick tongue played with her nipple, her head fell backwards, hands gripped his shoulders even tighter and the only thought running through her head was how amazing it felt. God, why had she never done this before?
Oh right… well, fuck that. Fuck everything, honest to God.
Her knees were about to buckle and to keep her standing, he backed her up against the wall, away from the stairs.
“I opened yours,” he said suddenly, licking the side of her breast while straightening his back, “Only fair you do mine.”
He watched her blush.
God, now she blushed?
Rogue assumed he knew she’d never done it before, but still, it wasn’t something she liked to announce. Not to him. But he wanted her to admit it, didn’t he? He wanted to hear her say it.
But I won’t. I won’t say it.
With a shaking hand, she reached down and did as instructed. He groaned out of pleasure when the pressure between his legs was finally released, stepped out of his trousers and boxers, abandoned his shoes… and smirked. Rogue was staring into his eyes.
Staring straight into his eyes and biting her bottom lip - again - not daring to look down.
How amusing.
Wrapping a hand around her neck meaning to pull her lips to his, he suddenly winced, aloud, which was probably the first time she’d hear him sound so exposed. She saw it all in slow-motion, the way he grimaced as the pain jolted through his body, how his skin turned slightly ashen. She could feel him again, inside her head, his voice becoming stronger and stronger, the pain and hatred floating back in waves.
But he didn’t let go. He didn’t let go of you and you, you didn’t move either.
It felt like an eternity before it - the feeling, the feeling of sucking the life out of him, finally subsided and he started breathing again.
If it hadn’t been for the wall, they would’ve both fallen; he collapsed against her, powerless, and she reacted in a way that surprised them both. She raised her arms and embraced him like a child, trying to sooth the pain. Both his hands were flat against the wall, trying to support him.
The next few minutes were spent in silence.
“Looks like your Cure is temporary,” he pointed out against her neck, but she didn’t listen. There was another voice, another Pyro speaking to her, stealing her attention.
And at that moment, at that one incredible, veracious moment, the secret revealed itself before her eyes, lighting every corner of her obscure subconscious. With the secret stripped naked, out in the open, she understood. Understood exactly what the reason behind his assault towards those policemen that had angered the mutant, why he left the safety of the school and joined the brotherhood. Why he’d done all those horrible things he’d done… why he’d kept fighting the war to free his kind from prejudice while at the same time only making it worse.
Still, you did it believing it was the only way to protect the mutant race, the only fucking family you’ve ever known. You’re fucked up, evil, even, but I know you are capable of love, of that unconditional love that makes everything brighter, better. You can love. On your own terms, in that weird, twisted way of yours, you can love, lust and admire and sometimes, sometimes they’re the same to you.
Sometimes there’s no difference.
Pyro moved, pulled away just enough to be able to look at her and the little bruises he’d planted on her lips. He had his own fair share, though. His hands were still against the wall whereas hers were still around him as if they belonged there.
He noted it with great satisfaction. Maybe they did, you know, belong there. Maybe that is why you don’t belong with him, Rogue.
“I don’t know what happened,” Rogue said shyly, but didn’t apologize. Good, he didn’t want her to.
“It’s all fine, Rogue, just a little surprise, is all.” She didn’t understand why he sounded so damn amused. She had nearly killed him! Again! Wasn’t he supposed to be angry?
“What if it comes back again?”
”Then we deal,” he replied, chuckling at the look on her face. She was worried, but she wasn’t worried for him. She was worried for herself. How could they finish their little game if he died in the middle?
Didn’t she see it? God, how slow could one be?
She wouldn’t be sorry if it happened again. She wouldn’t be sorry if her power would return full-force. Perhaps she didn’t admit it, at least not to him, maybe she didn’t even realize it herself, but if she’d truly wanted to live without her lethal ability, she would’ve been upset right about now. Angry and shocked, because there was a possibility the Cure didn’t work.
But it wasn’t the right time to think about all that shit.
“Come here,” he said, letting out a hoarse laugh and continued his original plan and invaded her mouth again. Only, it didn’t feel like invading, because in his mind, it was his. She was his.
Feeling her naked body against his, it was the only thing needed to bring his erection back alive - she’d kill it pretty efficiently with that little trick of hers.
Her panties were the final piece of clothing between them, but not for long.
Pyro smelled her. Even now, kissing her, he smelled the scent of essence everywhere and wanted more of it. All of it. She shrieked, surprised when his finger touched her clit and that was that. No more waiting, no more playing.
He roughly pushed her up against the wall, lifting her into the air and bringing her legs around his hips while pushing into her, deep, hard. He didn’t warn her, didn’t bother to go easy on her, not even when he clearly felt she’d never done it before. No, and she hadn’t expected him to, either, because this was Pyro, not John, and Pyro didn’t care. Her nails cut into his back and his were leaving their own imprint on her hips.
He squeezed them, again and again, hoping there’d be bruises tomorrow to remind her of what she’d done.
His pace was fast and hard, with every thrust he wanted to go deeper, touch her hidden core. And with every thrust, she wanted him there, deeper, inside her core.
It didn’t take long before he felt her hips respond to his thrusts. Her hear moans get louder and louder, breath hitching. She’d clench her inner muscles around his cock, sway her hips from side to side making his pleasure grow promptly. She’d done it accidentally the first time, but the sound that had escaped his throat, had told her she’d hit a golden spot.
Pyro reached his climax with a snarl and if she reached hers, he didn’t notice.
Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t care at all, you know, he did… but he was simply too busy wondering the best way to let the popsicle know his girl had been marked by another.
0000
There was no snuggling afterwards. He lowered them to the floor, her on top of him and just held her there until he finally fell asleep. Her power had really taken its toll on him.
Lying there, she could pretend again. Not that it was Bobby, but that it was John. John, who held her, because he loved her, not because he just wanted to keep her there, away from all things he didn’t like.
Maybe it was about love. Maybe it wasn’t. All she knew was that his love was nothing like the love she needed.
That one day, when you decided to give up on us, John, and join Magneto, I wondered why you’d done it.
Now she knew.
Because you, Xavier - you chained him, this powerful being, you chained him with your rules and regulations, tried to suffocate the one thing that made him strong.
He needed more than we could give.
And he can’t give what you need.
And because sometimes you have the will to burn and no desire to stop.
Still, when the naked pyromaniac (if you didn’t count the socks) woke up from the hotel’s floor later that day, Rogue was already gone.