XMMF Fic by Sionnain and Srichard
Title: Discipline
Authors: Sionnain and Sophie (Srichard)
Fandom: XMMF
Pairing: Magneto/Rogue
Rating: MA. See, Sophie makes Sionn write teh smut. *G*
Warnings: This is very D/S oriented, with some Hurt/Comfort and S/M on the side. In Sophie's words, "Meanness, ouchy leather gloves..." Mmm. Delicious!
Word Count: 2622
Summary: Rogue spent a little long listening to one of her former colleagues berate her for joining up with the Brotherhood. Magneto sees to it that she's disciplined for her mistake.
AN: Written for Lunalelle, for her birthday. She requested Magneto/Rogue (bless her, the darling girl.) When I informed Srichard that I was writing this, she said, "Do you think she'd mind if I wrote it with you?" After dying of happiness (Sophie's Magneto PWNS, omg), I said I didn't think she'd mind one bit. So here is your birthday present, Luna, dark and hopefully scary and erotic, courtesy of Sionnain and Sophie. We do hope you like it, m'dear. *loves*
Discipline
Rogue sat with the rest of the Brotherhood, shivering a bit with cold and nerves from the aftermath of their mission. She felt anxious and restless both; looking around, she wondered if she wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
Mystique was off briefing Magneto, and Pyro was playing a small ball of fire. She couldn’t quite make herself move closer him, though it would have warmed her. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down.
Magneto stepped out of his study after a long time, while Mystique left, her face perfectly unconcerned. "Marie," he said, in a voice dark with promise and threat.
Rogue winced. Use of her first name was not a good sign. Rather like with one’s parents. Pyro grinned at her from behind his fireball, which made her smile a little as it distorted the features of his face. “Yes, sir?”
He jerked his head simply, then turned and moved back into the study, expecting her to follow.
Pyro gave a low whistle, and she glared at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, as if he was trying to be nice, but the effect was ruined by his smirk. She pulled away and followed Magneto into his study.
Magneto sat down in his chair, spreading his legs wide, and beckoned her closer.
Rogue took a deep breath and walked slowly across the floor, her heart racing. Her eyes were very wide. “Is…is something wrong?”
Slowly and deliberately, he drew on a pair of gloves, then pulled her to stand between his knees, but didn't answer, just looked up at her, waiting for her to speak.
It wasn’t the cold making her shiver anymore. “I-he just-I guess I shouldn’t have listened to him, then.” She bit her lip and looked away.
He reached up, taking her chin in his hand and making her look at him. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me why you did, then?"
Rogue felt like she might faint, and she swayed forward a bit, but she knew better to touch him even if she was wearing gloves. “I-I didn’t expect him to…you know. Yell at me.” She winced, because that sounded rather juvenile.
"What did you expect?" he asked, then rose up, pressing on her shoulders.
Staring up at him, she sank slowly to her knees. She was too warm, suddenly, where before she’d been freezing. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she answered, voice soft. “Not that. I did everything I was supposed to…”
He sat again, looking down at her. "Oh? Followed Mystique's orders perfectly, did you?"
“Except that part where I argued with Bobby,” she answered hopefully. Then she sighed. “I guess that means no, sir.”
"Indeed. I think you know how I feel about disobedience, don't you, Marie?" His fingers wrapped around her whitened strand of hair and tugged on it, hard.
Her pupils were so dilated that the slight spill of light in the room hurt them. But her gasp wasn’t entirely from pain as she answered him. “Yes, sir. You don’t…don’t like it.” That was putting it mildly, but she was finding it hard to talk.
"What should I do with you, then?" he mused to himself. "Perhaps you need some time...alone...to think about the error of your ways?"
Whenever Rogue did something which required punishment, he locked her in a closet. She was horribly claustrophobic. His oblique threat brought tears to her eyes, but she was smart enough to answer him as she should. “Whatever you think, sir,” she said, though she looked at him a bit pleadingly as she said it.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Do you want that, Marie? Want me to lock you in the closet like a naughty little girl...?"
“Oh…” she moaned, head tilting back, the feel of his breath in her ear arousing her even as his threat made her shiver. “I want…whatever you think…” she could barely speak.
"Do you? Well, then, since you've no objection..." He rose, hand wrapping around her wrist, hauling her to her feet.
Unfortunately, the panic overtook her at the thought of being tossed in the closet and she started crying. “Please don’t,” she sobbed, staring at him with tears running down her face. “I d-didn’t m-mean to disobey.”
An extremely unpleasant expression came over Magneto's face as he watched her cry and beg. "No? I was planning to leave you there all night...curled on the floor of that tiny, tiny closet, with no way out..."
She shook her head, shivering with fright at his words and the image they called up in her mind. She was finding it very hard to breathe. “Please, no, I-”
"But why not? You did say whatever I thought best..." He reached out to stroke her face with his gloved hand. "Don't you want to please me, Marie?"
His touch soothed her fear slightly, but it also increased her agitation. “Y-yes, sir.” She gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
"But how will you do that if you don't go into the closet like a good girl for me?" he asked, smiling.
Slowly, she raised one of her gloved hands and rested it lightly on his chest. “Is there nothing else I could do?” Something besides fear was slowly leaking into her voice.
"I don't know, Marie." His voice hardened suddenly. "I'm very displeased with you right now."
Her breathing was erratic. “I didn’t think what he said was right,” she said, placing her other hand on his chest. Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his sweater.
"But you listened." He was staring at her with hooded eyes.
Rogue nodded. “I did.” She dropped her head slightly, feeling a bit ashamed, hiding from him in the fall of her hair.
"Then I'll give you a choice, Marie." His voice was deceptively kind. "You can either go into the closet and then be my good girl...or stay out and hazard my displeasure."
Rogue wasn’t so sure this was a choice. She didn’t want to go in the closet, but it wasn’t just because she was terrified of it. She was so restless, and agitated, and…she stared up at him, a hint of challenge on her face. “I don’t think you should throw me in the closet.”
"No? Very well, then." His hand came up to grip at her arm, and he spun her around forcefully, flinging her towards his desk.
She stumbled forward and hit against the cold steel, wincing at the pain, but it was apparently what she wanted. Rogue was very aware she’d messed up, but apparently the punishment she wanted was a bit more intense than the closet.
He forced her face-down over the desk, and pinned her there with a hard hand at the back of her neck. "Take off your clothes," he ordered, not releasing her.
She gave a little gasp at that. He was holding her firmly enough to make it a struggle-and a rather painful one-to complete his instructions. “Gloves?” She tried to turn her head around to look at him, which might have been a mistake.
"Did I give you permission to look at me?" he asked, coldly, his hand moving from her neck to tangle in her hair, pulling her head up.
“No, sir,” she gasped out, the pain lancing through her body and making her shamefully wet.
He slapped her crisply across the face, then pushed her head down again. "Yes. Take off your gloves."
The slap stung so badly she felt her eyes tear up, and it took her three tries to get her gloves off. In a gesture of submissiveness, she tossed them at his feet. She pressed her face against the cold metal desk, hoping to ease the sting of his slap.
He pinned her there again, then brought his other hand down to caress the smooth lines of her ass. "This will hurt, Marie..."
She made some sort of noise torn between a sob and a moan, moving her legs apart, giving him whatever he wanted of her. “Yes, sir,” she gasped. Perversely, she wanted to look at him again, and had to force herself not to.
Without any warning, he pushed two fingers inside her, forcing the resistance of the leather gloves into her slick, hot flesh.
It hurt, but she pushed her hips back regardless. The restlessness inside her was rising, threatening to drown her. “Please…” She didn’t want to ask for anything, because she knew he was angry with her, but the word was torn out of her as she shivered beneath him.
"Please what?" he demanded, forcing a third finger painfully inside her.
“Make it…” she squeezed her eyes shut, not sure what she wanted to say. Her fingers scratched at the desk, fingers seeking purchase and failing. She clenched around his fingers, crying a little from the pain.
"Make it what?" He was working her hard with his three fingers, brutally.
“Hard,” she answered on a moan. “Hurt…” she was confused by fear and arousal and barely knew what she was saying.
He smiled nastily. "What else does such a disobedient slut deserve?" he demanded, stretching her painfully wide with a fourth finger in her cunt.
She started sobbing at that, finally, feeling rather broken and utterly overcome by pain. “Sorry, so sorry, please…”
"Are you? I don't think so..." He began pressing at her clit even as he jammed his fingers inside her cruelly.
“Am, promise, sorry…” she bit her lip again as pleasure danced just along the edges of the pain from his cruel fingers between her legs.
"And why should I care? You chose to hazard my displeasure, Marie..." He reached beneath her, twisting a nipple painfully with his other hand.
She cried out at that, loudly, tears in her mouth as she arched her body into his hands, no longer caring that it hurt so very badly, seeking release and some end to her punishment. “I’ll be good, sir, promise…”
"I don't care," he said nastily, continuing to fuck her with agonizing precision. "You're nothing more than a disobedient slut, who won't take her punishment, Marie. That's all."
Rogue was crying under the weight of his both his anger and his forced pleasure, and as her body finally found release in a very intense, painful orgasm, she found herself asking for the one thing she feared most of all. “Closet, please, sir…”
A smile spread across Magneto's face at that, and he opened a door easily, pushing her into the closet and closing the door behind her, then lowering the ceiling with his powers to pin her down on the closet's floor.
Shivering, Rogue huddled in a small ball on the cold floor of the closet and screamed until she was hoarse.
After precisely five minutes, he opened the door again, lifting the ceiling. He moved to sit in his chair once more. "Come to me, Marie...."
She crawled to him, not because she couldn’t stand, but because she knew he would want it. She ended up between his legs as he sat on the chair, and very carefully lowered her face to rest on his thigh.
"There..." His voice was nearly a purr. "Such a good girl, aren't you?" He stroked her cheek with his gloved hands.
She nodded, feeling quiet and relieved, hands clasping at the fabric of his trousers. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.
"Tell me what you want," he murmured softly.
Without looking at him, she rubbed her face lightly against his thigh, like a kitten. “I want…” her voice was raspy from all the screaming and crying, though peaceful. “You,” she finished simply.
He pulled her up to sit on his lap then, laying his cheek against the top of her head, her hair shielding him from her deadly skin.
Rogue gave a little sigh, arms around his neck, careful to keep the bare skin of her hands away from his neck. “Next time I’ll just kick him when he starts talking,” she offered.
He smiled at that. "Admirable. Though leaving him incapable of speech might be better still." He shifted her so that she was straddling him, reaching automatically for a condom in the desk drawer.
She leaned back a bit to smile at him. “Oh, I did. I guess I got a bit fed up with what he was sayin’,” she drawled. Her hands were resting lightly on his shoulders. “You want me to put my gloves on?” she asked shyly.
He shook his head. "Hands at your sides," he ordered calmly, shifting her back slightly so that he could undo his trousers.
She dropped her hands to her sides as he’d asked and balanced herself so she didn’t fall off his lap, because she was still a bit weak from the release of all that tension and unhappiness. She watched him intently, not moving or making a sound, submissive and quiet.
He rolled the condom over his thick, heavy cock with ease, then pulled her forward again, urging her up so that she could slide down onto him.
Her hands came up and grasped at his shoulders for a moment to steady herself, but she dropped them back to her sides and rocked forward slowly, eyes sliding closed.
"Good..." He grasped her hips steadily, helping her rise and fall. "You'll do better next time, please me, won't you?"
She nodded frantically. “Yes, promise,” she gasped, letting him control her movements. “Want to please you…” she clenched her muscles tight around him.
He looked at her steadily. "You'll kill him for me next time..." He was pushing his hips up, thrusting deep within her.
“Yes,” she gasped, throwing her head back. She had to clasp her hands behind her back to resist the temptation to touch him.
He ground her against him. "Come for me then, Marie, pretty girl, mine, come for me..." His breathing grew ragged.
This time when she came for him it was only from pleasure. She cried out as it washed through her, her back arching, but she kept her eyes open and trained intently on his face.
A low gasp, and then he was coming inside her as well, his head leaning back against the back of his chair as his hands gripped bruisingly tight at her hips.
She smiled as she watched him, drawing in a breath at the look on his face and the press of his fingers on her hips. She leaned forward, carefully, placing her head on his shoulder.
"That's better," he sighed, allowing her the simple comfort of being in his arms for a little longer.
“Mmm,” she murmured in agreement. She should move-Erik wasn’t exactly cuddly-but she felt very tired and replete, and it was nice to be held. “Sleepy.”
"Yes." He began shifting her off him. "You should eat something and then go to bed."
“Yes, sir,” she said as she moved off of him, her words more gently teasing than serious, though she had every intention of obeying him. She found her clothes and her gloves, dressing quietly. As she went to the leave the room, she paused. “Erik?”
He was removing the condom and fixing his trousers. "Yes, Rogue?"
She gave him an unwavering stare, chin tilted up. “Next time, I will kill him for you,” she assured him, the perfect image of a loyal soldier, voice assured and strong.
He smiled at her. "I know you will," he said warmly, then waved his hand to dismiss her from the room.
She smiled back at him, perfectly cheerful, then went to the kitchen. If she was lucky, maybe Pyro had saved her some dinner.
Authors: Sionnain and Sophie (Srichard)
Fandom: XMMF
Pairing: Magneto/Rogue
Rating: MA. See, Sophie makes Sionn write teh smut. *G*
Warnings: This is very D/S oriented, with some Hurt/Comfort and S/M on the side. In Sophie's words, "Meanness, ouchy leather gloves..." Mmm. Delicious!
Word Count: 2622
Summary: Rogue spent a little long listening to one of her former colleagues berate her for joining up with the Brotherhood. Magneto sees to it that she's disciplined for her mistake.
AN: Written for Lunalelle, for her birthday. She requested Magneto/Rogue (bless her, the darling girl.) When I informed Srichard that I was writing this, she said, "Do you think she'd mind if I wrote it with you?" After dying of happiness (Sophie's Magneto PWNS, omg), I said I didn't think she'd mind one bit. So here is your birthday present, Luna, dark and hopefully scary and erotic, courtesy of Sionnain and Sophie. We do hope you like it, m'dear. *loves*
Discipline
Rogue sat with the rest of the Brotherhood, shivering a bit with cold and nerves from the aftermath of their mission. She felt anxious and restless both; looking around, she wondered if she wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
Mystique was off briefing Magneto, and Pyro was playing a small ball of fire. She couldn’t quite make herself move closer him, though it would have warmed her. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down.
Magneto stepped out of his study after a long time, while Mystique left, her face perfectly unconcerned. "Marie," he said, in a voice dark with promise and threat.
Rogue winced. Use of her first name was not a good sign. Rather like with one’s parents. Pyro grinned at her from behind his fireball, which made her smile a little as it distorted the features of his face. “Yes, sir?”
He jerked his head simply, then turned and moved back into the study, expecting her to follow.
Pyro gave a low whistle, and she glared at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, as if he was trying to be nice, but the effect was ruined by his smirk. She pulled away and followed Magneto into his study.
Magneto sat down in his chair, spreading his legs wide, and beckoned her closer.
Rogue took a deep breath and walked slowly across the floor, her heart racing. Her eyes were very wide. “Is…is something wrong?”
Slowly and deliberately, he drew on a pair of gloves, then pulled her to stand between his knees, but didn't answer, just looked up at her, waiting for her to speak.
It wasn’t the cold making her shiver anymore. “I-he just-I guess I shouldn’t have listened to him, then.” She bit her lip and looked away.
He reached up, taking her chin in his hand and making her look at him. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me why you did, then?"
Rogue felt like she might faint, and she swayed forward a bit, but she knew better to touch him even if she was wearing gloves. “I-I didn’t expect him to…you know. Yell at me.” She winced, because that sounded rather juvenile.
"What did you expect?" he asked, then rose up, pressing on her shoulders.
Staring up at him, she sank slowly to her knees. She was too warm, suddenly, where before she’d been freezing. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she answered, voice soft. “Not that. I did everything I was supposed to…”
He sat again, looking down at her. "Oh? Followed Mystique's orders perfectly, did you?"
“Except that part where I argued with Bobby,” she answered hopefully. Then she sighed. “I guess that means no, sir.”
"Indeed. I think you know how I feel about disobedience, don't you, Marie?" His fingers wrapped around her whitened strand of hair and tugged on it, hard.
Her pupils were so dilated that the slight spill of light in the room hurt them. But her gasp wasn’t entirely from pain as she answered him. “Yes, sir. You don’t…don’t like it.” That was putting it mildly, but she was finding it hard to talk.
"What should I do with you, then?" he mused to himself. "Perhaps you need some time...alone...to think about the error of your ways?"
Whenever Rogue did something which required punishment, he locked her in a closet. She was horribly claustrophobic. His oblique threat brought tears to her eyes, but she was smart enough to answer him as she should. “Whatever you think, sir,” she said, though she looked at him a bit pleadingly as she said it.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Do you want that, Marie? Want me to lock you in the closet like a naughty little girl...?"
“Oh…” she moaned, head tilting back, the feel of his breath in her ear arousing her even as his threat made her shiver. “I want…whatever you think…” she could barely speak.
"Do you? Well, then, since you've no objection..." He rose, hand wrapping around her wrist, hauling her to her feet.
Unfortunately, the panic overtook her at the thought of being tossed in the closet and she started crying. “Please don’t,” she sobbed, staring at him with tears running down her face. “I d-didn’t m-mean to disobey.”
An extremely unpleasant expression came over Magneto's face as he watched her cry and beg. "No? I was planning to leave you there all night...curled on the floor of that tiny, tiny closet, with no way out..."
She shook her head, shivering with fright at his words and the image they called up in her mind. She was finding it very hard to breathe. “Please, no, I-”
"But why not? You did say whatever I thought best..." He reached out to stroke her face with his gloved hand. "Don't you want to please me, Marie?"
His touch soothed her fear slightly, but it also increased her agitation. “Y-yes, sir.” She gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
"But how will you do that if you don't go into the closet like a good girl for me?" he asked, smiling.
Slowly, she raised one of her gloved hands and rested it lightly on his chest. “Is there nothing else I could do?” Something besides fear was slowly leaking into her voice.
"I don't know, Marie." His voice hardened suddenly. "I'm very displeased with you right now."
Her breathing was erratic. “I didn’t think what he said was right,” she said, placing her other hand on his chest. Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his sweater.
"But you listened." He was staring at her with hooded eyes.
Rogue nodded. “I did.” She dropped her head slightly, feeling a bit ashamed, hiding from him in the fall of her hair.
"Then I'll give you a choice, Marie." His voice was deceptively kind. "You can either go into the closet and then be my good girl...or stay out and hazard my displeasure."
Rogue wasn’t so sure this was a choice. She didn’t want to go in the closet, but it wasn’t just because she was terrified of it. She was so restless, and agitated, and…she stared up at him, a hint of challenge on her face. “I don’t think you should throw me in the closet.”
"No? Very well, then." His hand came up to grip at her arm, and he spun her around forcefully, flinging her towards his desk.
She stumbled forward and hit against the cold steel, wincing at the pain, but it was apparently what she wanted. Rogue was very aware she’d messed up, but apparently the punishment she wanted was a bit more intense than the closet.
He forced her face-down over the desk, and pinned her there with a hard hand at the back of her neck. "Take off your clothes," he ordered, not releasing her.
She gave a little gasp at that. He was holding her firmly enough to make it a struggle-and a rather painful one-to complete his instructions. “Gloves?” She tried to turn her head around to look at him, which might have been a mistake.
"Did I give you permission to look at me?" he asked, coldly, his hand moving from her neck to tangle in her hair, pulling her head up.
“No, sir,” she gasped out, the pain lancing through her body and making her shamefully wet.
He slapped her crisply across the face, then pushed her head down again. "Yes. Take off your gloves."
The slap stung so badly she felt her eyes tear up, and it took her three tries to get her gloves off. In a gesture of submissiveness, she tossed them at his feet. She pressed her face against the cold metal desk, hoping to ease the sting of his slap.
He pinned her there again, then brought his other hand down to caress the smooth lines of her ass. "This will hurt, Marie..."
She made some sort of noise torn between a sob and a moan, moving her legs apart, giving him whatever he wanted of her. “Yes, sir,” she gasped. Perversely, she wanted to look at him again, and had to force herself not to.
Without any warning, he pushed two fingers inside her, forcing the resistance of the leather gloves into her slick, hot flesh.
It hurt, but she pushed her hips back regardless. The restlessness inside her was rising, threatening to drown her. “Please…” She didn’t want to ask for anything, because she knew he was angry with her, but the word was torn out of her as she shivered beneath him.
"Please what?" he demanded, forcing a third finger painfully inside her.
“Make it…” she squeezed her eyes shut, not sure what she wanted to say. Her fingers scratched at the desk, fingers seeking purchase and failing. She clenched around his fingers, crying a little from the pain.
"Make it what?" He was working her hard with his three fingers, brutally.
“Hard,” she answered on a moan. “Hurt…” she was confused by fear and arousal and barely knew what she was saying.
He smiled nastily. "What else does such a disobedient slut deserve?" he demanded, stretching her painfully wide with a fourth finger in her cunt.
She started sobbing at that, finally, feeling rather broken and utterly overcome by pain. “Sorry, so sorry, please…”
"Are you? I don't think so..." He began pressing at her clit even as he jammed his fingers inside her cruelly.
“Am, promise, sorry…” she bit her lip again as pleasure danced just along the edges of the pain from his cruel fingers between her legs.
"And why should I care? You chose to hazard my displeasure, Marie..." He reached beneath her, twisting a nipple painfully with his other hand.
She cried out at that, loudly, tears in her mouth as she arched her body into his hands, no longer caring that it hurt so very badly, seeking release and some end to her punishment. “I’ll be good, sir, promise…”
"I don't care," he said nastily, continuing to fuck her with agonizing precision. "You're nothing more than a disobedient slut, who won't take her punishment, Marie. That's all."
Rogue was crying under the weight of his both his anger and his forced pleasure, and as her body finally found release in a very intense, painful orgasm, she found herself asking for the one thing she feared most of all. “Closet, please, sir…”
A smile spread across Magneto's face at that, and he opened a door easily, pushing her into the closet and closing the door behind her, then lowering the ceiling with his powers to pin her down on the closet's floor.
Shivering, Rogue huddled in a small ball on the cold floor of the closet and screamed until she was hoarse.
After precisely five minutes, he opened the door again, lifting the ceiling. He moved to sit in his chair once more. "Come to me, Marie...."
She crawled to him, not because she couldn’t stand, but because she knew he would want it. She ended up between his legs as he sat on the chair, and very carefully lowered her face to rest on his thigh.
"There..." His voice was nearly a purr. "Such a good girl, aren't you?" He stroked her cheek with his gloved hands.
She nodded, feeling quiet and relieved, hands clasping at the fabric of his trousers. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.
"Tell me what you want," he murmured softly.
Without looking at him, she rubbed her face lightly against his thigh, like a kitten. “I want…” her voice was raspy from all the screaming and crying, though peaceful. “You,” she finished simply.
He pulled her up to sit on his lap then, laying his cheek against the top of her head, her hair shielding him from her deadly skin.
Rogue gave a little sigh, arms around his neck, careful to keep the bare skin of her hands away from his neck. “Next time I’ll just kick him when he starts talking,” she offered.
He smiled at that. "Admirable. Though leaving him incapable of speech might be better still." He shifted her so that she was straddling him, reaching automatically for a condom in the desk drawer.
She leaned back a bit to smile at him. “Oh, I did. I guess I got a bit fed up with what he was sayin’,” she drawled. Her hands were resting lightly on his shoulders. “You want me to put my gloves on?” she asked shyly.
He shook his head. "Hands at your sides," he ordered calmly, shifting her back slightly so that he could undo his trousers.
She dropped her hands to her sides as he’d asked and balanced herself so she didn’t fall off his lap, because she was still a bit weak from the release of all that tension and unhappiness. She watched him intently, not moving or making a sound, submissive and quiet.
He rolled the condom over his thick, heavy cock with ease, then pulled her forward again, urging her up so that she could slide down onto him.
Her hands came up and grasped at his shoulders for a moment to steady herself, but she dropped them back to her sides and rocked forward slowly, eyes sliding closed.
"Good..." He grasped her hips steadily, helping her rise and fall. "You'll do better next time, please me, won't you?"
She nodded frantically. “Yes, promise,” she gasped, letting him control her movements. “Want to please you…” she clenched her muscles tight around him.
He looked at her steadily. "You'll kill him for me next time..." He was pushing his hips up, thrusting deep within her.
“Yes,” she gasped, throwing her head back. She had to clasp her hands behind her back to resist the temptation to touch him.
He ground her against him. "Come for me then, Marie, pretty girl, mine, come for me..." His breathing grew ragged.
This time when she came for him it was only from pleasure. She cried out as it washed through her, her back arching, but she kept her eyes open and trained intently on his face.
A low gasp, and then he was coming inside her as well, his head leaning back against the back of his chair as his hands gripped bruisingly tight at her hips.
She smiled as she watched him, drawing in a breath at the look on his face and the press of his fingers on her hips. She leaned forward, carefully, placing her head on his shoulder.
"That's better," he sighed, allowing her the simple comfort of being in his arms for a little longer.
“Mmm,” she murmured in agreement. She should move-Erik wasn’t exactly cuddly-but she felt very tired and replete, and it was nice to be held. “Sleepy.”
"Yes." He began shifting her off him. "You should eat something and then go to bed."
“Yes, sir,” she said as she moved off of him, her words more gently teasing than serious, though she had every intention of obeying him. She found her clothes and her gloves, dressing quietly. As she went to the leave the room, she paused. “Erik?”
He was removing the condom and fixing his trousers. "Yes, Rogue?"
She gave him an unwavering stare, chin tilted up. “Next time, I will kill him for you,” she assured him, the perfect image of a loyal soldier, voice assured and strong.
He smiled at her. "I know you will," he said warmly, then waved his hand to dismiss her from the room.
She smiled back at him, perfectly cheerful, then went to the kitchen. If she was lucky, maybe Pyro had saved her some dinner.