Demented_Allure challenge fic, M/R, "Possession"
Title: Possession
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: XMMF
Pairing: Magneto/Rogue
Verse: Movie, my Ideology-verse
Rating: Adult
Summary: Rogue gives Magneto something he wants for his birthday.
Warnings: BDSM, breathplay
AN: Thanks to Kethlenda for the beta! This is sort of a companion piece to Lay me down to crawl, in a way, but this is sexual D/S where the other was not. Written for this week's Demented_Allure challenge! And I totally owe Rogue's suggestion to Magneto about rides at Disneyworld to a conversation I had with Nevacaruso
Possession
Nothing stands between us here
and I won’t be denied…
“Where is everybody?”
Rogue wandered into the rec room, confused and a little concerned. The fortress was completely empty, as far as she could tell, and she was starting to get a little worried. She felt a bit better when she saw Magneto sitting at the computer desk. She hid a smile at his scowl and the pair of reading glasses she knew he hated wearing.
She thought he looked sort of cute with them, but she’d never in a million years tell him that, or else she’d be sleeping in a cell. He was many things, but she’d never use the word “cute.”
Except with the glasses.
“Everyone is gone. Mystique and Mesmero went to Germany to finish up a recruiting mission. Gambit had something to do with his family in New Orleans and I told him to take Pyro with him.”
Rogue perched on the back of the sofa. “You gave everyone vacation? We get vacation?” She grinned. “Can we go to Disneyworld?”
He looked up at her and glared. “No.”
She coughed to hide her laugh. “But you could make all the rides go without us waiting in line again-”
“Rogue,” he snapped, taking off his glasses, but she saw the briefest hint of a smile on his face. “I did that once with Charles. I believe it made him angry.”
She giggled. “I bet. So why don’t I have a vacation?”
“Is there someplace you need to go?”
She thought about that. “I don’t have anyplace to go,” she said, shrugging. “It just doesn’t seem like you, giving everyone time off-” her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Oh. I get it.”
Rogue watched him struggle with his innate curiosity for a moment before giving in. “What do you get?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“You want them all gone since it’s your birthday in a few days,” she said wisely, walking over to stand in front of him.
His glare intensified. “I don’t know what you you’re talking about, Rogue.”
She snorted. “Uh-huh. Admit it. I know you hate it, attention on your birthday, don’t you?”
“How do you know that?”
She tapped the side of her head wordlessly.
He made a disgusted sound. “I have got to stop sleeping with people who know things I would rather they not,” he muttered. To her surprise, he held a hand out to her. She placed her gloved hand in his and he tugged her towards him.
“Maybe that’s just your type,” she said with a grin, a bit surprised when he pulled her into his lap. She balanced herself with her hands resting on his shoulders. “What do you want for your birthday?”
He traced the curve of her lips with one finger, which made her shiver, and arched a brow at her.
“That’s not anything you couldn’t have anyway,” she reminded him, her voice slightly husky.
“That’s true,” he said smugly, his hand wrapping in her hair. He tugged her head back. ““Did you have a reason for coming in here to distract me?” He began blowing softly on the side of her neck.
“I was a little concerned that everyone was gone,” she said, trying to focus on what he was saying. It was very difficult. “Thought maybe you’d all jumped ship and left me here.”
“Were you afraid?” His hands rested at her waist, lightly, and his voice was low and coaxing, the same tone she heard him use when he was trying to recruit for the Brotherhood.
“Just a little concerned,” she gasped, biting her lip as he continued breathing lightly on her skin. It was weird to think they could do this without worrying about someone walking in.
“Mmm. Sometimes I find I like making you afraid of me, Marie,” he murmured. “What if that’s what I want for my birthday?”
She stilled in his arms, her heart racing, staring at him a bit warily. “I-”
He raised his hand and pressed his fingers to her lips. She opened her mouth reflexively, and his bare fingers slid inside, in and out, and she felt the surge of her powers and tried to pull away-
“No,” he ordered her in a sharp voice, hand tightening on her waist for a moment as he forced her to draw from him. Her eyes flashed angrily-he knew she didn’t like that-but she closed her eyes, allowing his mind to flow into hers.
She saw fairly easily what it was he wanted from her, and it made her frightened and aroused at the same time. She was fairly submissive in bed by the simple virtue of not being very sure what she was doing, and besides, she found she liked him to be dominant with her. However, what she saw in her mind…
It took her a few moments to realize he was watching her, his face unreadable. She felt a slow twist of warmth low in her stomach and gave him a wide-eyed stare, her breathing unsteady. She wasn’t really sure what she was going to say until she said it.
“Okay.”
He smiled at her; it wasn’t warm or friendly at all. “You do understand what it is I want?”
“You want Rogue,” she whispered, shaking a little, her hands on his shoulders.
“Magneto does,” he murmured, tracing her collarbone lightly with the pads of his fingers; the touch was so light it took longer for her powers to stir. They’d learned, in the past few months, just how much he could touch and for how long.
“This makes us sound kinda crazy,” she murmured, cocking her head at him. “Callin’ ourselves by different names.”
“Mad as birds,” he agreed, but his expression was serious. “But you understand the difference?”
She nodded. “Oh yes.” Biting her lip, Rogue thought very carefully before speaking. “I sort of…I’ve thought about it, too.”
How could she not? He was a commanding presence, and while she was careful to separate their intimate relationship from their far more structured soldier/general interactions…she couldn’t lie to him.
“Is that so?”
She nodded again, bereft of speech.
“But it frightens you.”
Her gloved fingers curled into his shirt. “Yes. You like that,” she answered, watching his eyes darken. Her voice was slightly accusatory.
“So do you,” he challenged her, brushing her hair back from her flushed face. “At least a little. I can tell.” He kissed her, very quickly, before setting her away from him. She found it hard to stand.
“Incidentally, this cannot be a regular occurrence, no matter how much we both happen to like it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she said quickly, shivering a little. “When…?”
“I’ll decide. Now leave me-I have work to get done.” With that, he turned his attention back to the screen, appearing completely unaffected by her presence.
Rogue watched him for a moment longer, then left and went upstairs. She took in the sight of her expression in the mirror that hung over the dresser; flushed face, bright eyes, nervous expression.
She wondered how long it would be before he wanted to do this. Part of her hoped it was soon. Part of her didn’t.
Fear danced like ice up her spine, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
They had a normal evening; they ate dinner together, watched a movie, and it was almost like they were on vacation. She ended up relaxed on the couch with her head in his lap, him playing idly with her hair. Without Pyro and Gambit there to burst loudly into the room, she actually fell asleep until he shook her to wake her up.
She’d sleepily followed him to bed and was asleep in minutes. She didn’t even dream.
* * *
Rogue slept late the next morning, because no one woke her. She obviously didn’t have training with Mystique, but she didn’t know if Magneto would wish to run exercises with her or not. She stood up and dressed for working out, just in case, then went down to the dining room.
The fortress felt cavernous without the others there. Feeling rather isolated, she hurried into the kitchen, only to find it empty. Sighing-breakfast would be cereal and a cold bagel-she went over and fixed herself a pot of coffee, the one thing she could cook without mishap.
Rogue ate breakfast alone, looking around the dining room absently as she did so. It was so…quiet. When she was finished, she cleaned her dishes and put them away, then went down to the gym. There was no sign of Magneto, so she ran through some exercises, did a few miles on their ancient treadmill, then stretched.
When she was finished, she felt a bit at a loss. Upstairs, his study door was closed-the ultimate “don’t disturb me” sign-but she wasn’t even sure he was in there. She went into the rec room and watched TV, but they had a very bad signal on most days and plus, she wasn’t used to being idle.
She read until lunch, which she also ate alone. After lunch she ran again, did some of the Pilates she’d been practicing with Mystique, and finished up with some yoga to relax. By the time she’d finished her third Salute to the Sun, she was pleasantly aching from exertion and covered in sweat, and going a bit mad from the silence.
Once or twice, she almost knocked on the study door, but she restrained herself. She indulged in a nice long shower, a luxury since they had rationed water with so many of them living there. She thought she heard him in the bedroom when she came out, but there was no one there.
Weird.
Rogue went down to dinner, relieved to see him in the kitchen, cooking something. She opened her mouth to say something, but he turned to her, looking as remote and frightening as he had when she’d first arrived. He placed a finger to his mouth. “Shh. I don’t wish for you to speak. Do you understand?”
She nodded slowly, her eyes wide. So this was part of…whatever it was she’d agreed to do for him. Rogue wasn’t all that talkative so it wasn’t hard for her to remain quiet-she was just glad to see him there. After dinner, she rose wordlessly and moved towards the kitchen to clean up. She gave him a shy sort of smile; his expression never wavered, and his eyes never warmed.
That night, when she came to bed, he was waiting for her in front of the doorway to their bedroom. “Tonight, Rogue, you shall sleep there,” he said flatly, pointing to the small bedroom she’d used when she’d first arrived.
She looked at him, suddenly nervous, wondering if this meant…
No. It’s part of the game. She nodded slowly, though she wasn’t relishing the thought of sleeping in a now unfamiliar bed. She paused, momentarily confused, as all her things were in their--his--room.
“You shall sleep naked for me, Rogue. I expect to find your clothing in a nice neat pile, gloves included, lying in the hallway. Do you understand?”
Heat rushed through her, along with the faintest hint of humiliation, which oddly did nothing to make the heat diminish. Oh, God. I have problems. She nodded one final time, and he waved his hand and opened her bedroom door for her.
She went into the room and slowly undressed, folding her clothes neatly. She peeked out into the hallway, blushed when she saw him still watching her with that impassioned expression, and leaned down to do as he said.
When she straightened, he gave a brief nod. “Go immediately to sleep, now.”
With that, she turned and went into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. She cried a little as she lay there in the cold sheets, though she wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it’s because it’s what he wants.
While she was crying, her hand crept between her legs, and Rogue touched herself in the dark as she lay there, wanting some sort of pleasure to make things more bearable. She came with a little sob, and while it relaxed her it wasn’t exactly pleasant.
She woke up often in the night, confused and disoriented. Once she went into the hallway and stood before the metal door, trembling and naked and cold, but she forced herself to go back to bed.
She’d agreed to this, hadn’t she? Plus, it was only one night, wasn’t it?
* * *
Except that it wasn’t.
Three days later, she was half-mad with forced silence and isolation. She’d woken up in the little bed and peeked out into the hallway, only to find a new set of clothes waiting for her. She saw him less and less, until the third day, when she saw him not at all.
Half a dozen times she nearly went to the study (he couldn’t be anywhere else, logically) and begged him to make it stop. The last time she’d seen him, at dinner the night before her day of total isolation, she’d barely been able to eat.
Each night, she fell asleep only after she’d brought herself off, and that moment of pleasure was the only thing that kept her going. Especially the third day, when she thought she’d go mad if she didn’t speak. She missed touch, as well-as careful as they had to be, it was still something she’d grown used to.
She wanted it, badly. She wanted him--no, she wanted Erik, not this cold and distant stranger who barely looked at her.
On the morning of the fourth day, she opened the door and found her uniform. Her heart sped up and she found herself breathing much too fast as she stared at it, understanding that this would be it. Her relief was so strong she nearly fell to her knees.
Instead, she picked up her uniform and carried into the bedroom.
It wasn’t like her old uniform back at the Mansion-the one she’d really never worn. It wasn’t leather, for one thing; it was some synthetic material that was waterproof and warm, providing ease of moment, but it fit her like a second skin. The top was high-necked, the sleeves full length. She had special gloves she wore with it, ones that she could easily remove, ones that had a small hole on the left fourth finger-her “secret weapon”-and those were leather, with Velcro straps she could easily tear off. The pants fit snugly yet had some stretch so she could fight, and the boots were the ones they all had-buckled up to the knee with metal straps.
The metal was for him; it was his way to keep tabs on them, help them out if needed. She always found that strangely comforting.
She dressed in the uniform and put her hair up in a ponytail, leaving the white streaks down around her face as she usually did. Her fingers traced through them and her breath caught.
Mine.
Shaking her head, she donned her trench coat, the last piece of her uniform. There was a note on top of the long black garment; it said simply, “If it’s too much, use my name.” Rogue understood immediately what that meant, though she didn’t really need the reminder. If she hadn’t done it yet, she doubted she stop him now.
She examined herself in the mirror; she looked deadly, strong. She looked like a soldier. Marie slipped away until only Rogue remained, the uncomfortable nature of the last few days forgotten.
With a proud tilt of her chin and her back straight, she left her room and went downstairs. She by passed the kitchen and went to his study, which was where they met before missions for their briefings. She knocked twice, then stood at attention with her hands behind her back.
The door swung open. “Enter.”
She walked in, her boots clicking on the floor, and came to rest in front of his desk, standing once again at attention. She’d thought when they got to this part she would feel weird, as if she were pretending to be a soldier while he pretended to be the general, but that’s not how she felt.
She briefly understood why this was dangerous. There was no fantasy. This was reality, and if they weren’t careful….her eyes remained fixed at a point above his head, as he’d always taught them to stand. Never let them see your eyes if you can help it.
“Rogue.” It was clearly a command.
She looked at him, unsurprised to find him in uniform. If he wanted to make sure she knew he was not Erik at the moment, that would be the easiest way. He’d left the helmet off, but wore everything else, including black leather gloves.
When Marie saw Erik wearing gloves, it usually made her knees weak. Rogue thought nothing of it. Dangerous. This is dangerous.
“How did you sleep last night, Rogue?”
“Fine, sir,” she said immediately, voice clipped and unemotional. In reality, she’d barely gotten more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep, but that wasn’t necessary information to share. It was the first time she’d spoken in nearly four days, but that didn’t matter, either.
“Are you lying to me?”
Startled, she looked at him. “I could have slept better, sir.”
“I see.” He walked around the desk and came to stand in front of her. Before she could fathom what he was about, he slapped her hard on the mouth. “That’s still lying. I expect the truth from you. Do you understand?”
Rogue had been punished, even harshly, and he’d struck her before. It had hurt, and made her feel humiliated. This hurt, and she was flushing, but…
Her eyes flew to his as lust hit her so hard she nearly collapsed from it. This was…oh, God. “I understand, sir,” she said, watching him, her breathing beginning to speed up.
She licked her lip, slowly, finding the pain strangely thrilling.
“I think you do,” he murmured, and she realized they weren’t talking about sleeping, or understanding… “You want to be my good girl, don’t you? Be my good soldier?”
She couldn’t take her eyes away from him. “Yes…yes, sir.”
“You’ll do whatever I want, won’t you…”
“Yes,” Rogue moaned, unable to stop herself, wanting to feel the sting of leather against her mouth again. Crazy. This is crazy.
“Yes…?” He reached out and backhanded her again, just like she wanted. Her knees buckled and she stumbled backwards.
“Yes sir,” she gasped, trembling, forcing herself to stand up straight.
“Good. Now, how did you sleep, Rogue?” His voice was firm, brooking no argument.
“Very badly, sir.”
“Much better.” He reached out and stroked her face, lightly, drawing his fingers down her cheek. “That’s what I want.” His voice was nearly a purr. “Don’t you want to please me?”
She leaned into his caress, her eyes sliding closed. “Yes, sir,” she breathed.
“Tell me, Rogue, why didn’t you sleep well?”
“I-it was cold, sir.”
“Ah. Is that the only reason?”
She opened her eyes; her eyelids felt heavy. “No, sir.”
“No?” He smiled at her, his eyes intent. “Tell me…” his hand wrapped around her neck, causing her to tense. He’d done this before, once, when she’d been worked up and unable to calm down, and it had frightened her.
“I-I was lonely, sir.” It wasn’t really the right word to describe what she’d felt, but his gloved fingers were stroking the pulse of her neck with slow, sinister intent, and she couldn’t think.
He began walking her backwards; she moved immediately, without turning to see where she was going, trusting him implicitly. “Good girl,” he purred at her, and she’d never heard his voice sound like that before. He dropped his hand and walked around her; she remained still and staring ahead, though her entire body was shaking. He pulled the trench coat from her body, leaving it pooled on the floor at her feet.
She felt his hand curl around her own as he tugged her backwards; she was disconcerted for a moment as she lost her balance, only to find herself straddling his lap with her back to him, with him seated in a chair.
His hands drifted over her body, which made her breath spill out in quick, rapid pants as he touched her. “Did you cry, all alone in your little room?” One hand wrapped around the back of her neck again and squeezed.
Rogue cried out, unable to help herself, the command implicit in the gesture nearly undoing her. Her body was warm and she knew she was wet, which should really have bothered her, but she wasn’t thinking about anything but him… “Yes, sir,” she moaned, biting her lip.
“Clasp your hands behind your back, that’s a good girl,” he murmured, and she complied immediately, her head bowing under the pressure of his fingers. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, stroking slowly up and down. “You’re shaking, Rogue…are you afraid? Is there something you need to tell me?”
Rogue remembered how she’d touched herself at night and flushed, slowly, her trembling increasing. “I-I don’t know, sir,” she said, worried, and sucked in a breath as the pressure of his fingers around her neck increased.
“I specifically requested you sleep, did I not? Did you do anything in that bed besides sleep, Rogue?” His voice hardened. “Tell me the truth, or you won’t like the consequences.”
She squirmed a little on his lap, overcome with both embarrassment and lust. His hand tightened again. “Be still,” he hissed.
“Yes, sir,” she gasped out, her mouth dry, stilling at once.
“Answer my question, Rogue,” he ordered her, and his free hand slid possessively over her breast, pinching her nipple hard beneath the fabric of her shirt.
“I-I touched myself, sir,” she whispered, staring at her knees, forcing herself not to push forward into his hand.
“Did you? Did I give you permission to do that?”
She was breathing so fast she thought she was going to hyperventilate. It was almost just as well she couldn’t see him, as frightening as his ominous presence behind her was, because if his face looked as unforgiving as his voice…
The image came upon all her all at once; she saw herself chained to the machine on Liberty Island, saw his face both implacable and resigned as he came towards her, hands outstretched. I’m sorry…
Her cry this time was one of fear, his given name trembling on her lips. He stilled immediately, as if sensing her inner battle, and he lowered his head to her ear. “I asked you a question,” he said in a low voice, though not unkindly. “When I ask you a question, my girl, I expect you to answer me. Is that not what you have promised me? Your obedience?’
His voice and the dark, seductive words he was saying chased the image from her mind, and slowly she released a breath and focused on what he’d said. “Yes, sir. My obedience.” Her body relaxed back into his, which pleased him, and he spent a moment slowly touching her and easing her trepidation.
Gradually, she reminded herself that beneath the frightening amount of realism, this was still a game. “No, sir. You did not give me permission,” she said slowly, slightly gratified when she heard him suck in a quick breath.
He wouldn’t have asked again. He would have ended it, if you had been afraid. Slowly, she began to relax further, trusting him to keep her safe.
“That was very bad of you, Rogue, why did you do it?” His hand on her neck squeezed briefly, and she began to find the sexual element to what they were doing. The slight crowbar of difference was enough to banish her fear.
“I couldn’t sleep, sir.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No, sir. I was…” she blushed, but forced herself to finish. “I was uncomfortable, sir.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Aroused, sir,” she answered, her face flaming. Rogue wasn’t used to saying these sorts of things out loud.
“Ah. Did it help?”
She began breathing fast, this time not from fear, as his fingers slid down her stomach. “Y-yes, sir.”
“I see. Are you aroused now?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered truthfully.
His hand slipped further down, and she nearly fainted at the sight of his black-gloved fingers pressing between her legs. “Is this what you did?”
“Yes, sir,” she moaned, her body shaking frantically as he began to rub.
His hand began squeezing her neck, applying pressure to the pulse-point again, making her blood slow. She began to feel dizzy. “You will come for me, won’t you? You will let me do this, do whatever I want…”
“Yes, sir,” she managed, her eyes sliding closed. Snowflakes of white, edged in black, drifted behind her closed eyes as the blood roared in her ear. She felt lightheaded, and her stomach twisted with a faint blur of nausea. If it weren’t for the continual pressure of his fingers, rubbing between her legs, the sensation would have been unpleasant.
His fingers loosened around her neck, causing her to breathe in great gasps of air. The added oxygen caused her to jump on his lap as the pleasure spiked, sudden and sharp. “Oh,” she gasped, enthralled, having never imagined anything could be that intense.
He laughed softly. “Indeed. Submit to me, girl, and I’ll give you what you want.”
She leaned her head back until it rested against his shoulder, leaning her entire body back into his embrace. He sighed, the sound almost reverent, and moved her hands from behind her back to rest, palms down, on her knees. “That’s my good girl.”
Her mind felt as absolutely calm and quiet as it had the time he’d whipped her, but this was different, because his hands were still between her legs, rubbing her insistently. Her entire body felt like it was made of liquid, and she remained quiet and passive for him as his fingers began to squeeze her neck again.
Twice more he did that, brought her to the brink of orgasm, and Rogue was so incoherent she could barely make out what he was saying. Every now and then she gave a whimpered “Yes, sir,” if she could manage it, but mostly she just gasped and stilled herself for him, surrendering utterly.
The last time was the end for her; she cried out in pleasure and lost consciousness for a moment as the snowflakes behind her eyes crowded her vision, tipped with red from the blinding intensity of her orgasm.
When she opened her eyes again, she spent a moment dragging air back into her lungs, but she couldn’t move. She looked up at him, and if she hadn’t been so far gone she might have come again from that look on his face; frightening and intense, yet tinged with obvious approval and pleasure.
His eyes gleamed. “That’s my good girl…”
After several moments, when she could breathe deeply again, he stood up and turned her to face him. He said nothing, merely removed his hands from her body and watched her. She swayed a little as she found her balance, which took a few moments without his hands to steady her. Her neck hurt; she’d have bruises from his fingers. She was glad.
“My good soldier, show me…show me you’re mine…”
Without hesitation, Rogue knelt before him, her head bowed with her hands palms-down on her knees once more. He walked around until he stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
She began to cry, shuddering, and the release of it was almost as powerful as her earlier orgasm. There was nothing left; she was utterly pulled under, drowning, and it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt.
* * *
She drifted contentedly in a fog of nothing until she began to become aware of the world around her; the soft press of light against her closed eyes, the quiet sound of her breathing, the feel of a mattress against her back.
She tried to open her eyes, but he stopped her with fingers on her lids. “Shh. Not yet. Just relax.”
At the sound of his voice, she obeyed; relaxing and falling back into that quiet pool of nothingness. It was a long time later-at least, it seemed like it-that she resurfaced again.
She swallowed; her throat hurt. This time, when she hesitantly opened her eyes, he didn’t stop her.
She was lying on her back in their bedroom, her arms at her sides, wearing nothing but her panties, her black bra, and her gloves. She didn’t remember getting up to the bedroom, or him undressing her. He was sitting next to her on the bed, no longer wearing his uniform, gently stroking her hair back from her face.
“How do you feel?”
Part of her didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to end it, but she was still in the mindset of obedience so she answered him. “My throat,” she croaked, a little embarrassed at the sound of her voice.
He held out a glass of water to her and helped her drink it, continuing to touch her very gently.
She sipped eagerly at the water but fell back again. “I feel…sleepy.” She looked up at him, very drowsy. “Is that…is that what you wanted?” she asked shyly, hoping she’d pleased him.
He nodded, then leaned down and kissed her brow. “It was, thank you.”
Feeling very pleased with herself, she smiled as her eyes slid closed. “M’glad,” she murmured. “Love you,” she whispered, wondering why the only time she could say that to him was after he did this, dominated her so completely that she couldn’t think straight.
“My good girl,” he murmured, kissing her brow again. “Sleep now.”
She did, immediately.
* * *
“Marie. Marie…” Erik waited patiently, shaking her slightly. She was probably exhausted, but she needed to eat something.
Rogue opened her eyes, yawning, stretching her lithe body and blinking sleepy dark eyes up at him. He was so pleased with her and what she’d done for him that he nearly shoved her back on the bed and forgot about dinner completely.
“Hi,” she said, arching her back up. His body stirred as her muscles tightened and relaxed, her deadly, fair skin very white against the dark sheets of his bed. “Mmm. What time is it?”
“Six thirty,” he said, stroking his hand down her disheveled hair.
Her eyes widened. “Really? Wow. Must be why I’m hungry.” She sat up and pulled her hair back-he’d taken it down when he’d undressed her-exposing her neck. He saw the bruises he’d left with his fingers around her throat.
“Do they hurt?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “A little, sir,” she said immediately, then blushed. “I mean-” her brow furrowed in uncertainty.
He laughed and reached out to touch her again, pleased by the way she calmed immediately. “You’re still in that headspace, aren’t you? It’s all right,” he soothed her, and she nodded.
“How long-how long will it last?”
“Do you want it to end?” He cocked his head at her, wondering what she’d thought of what they’d done. He’d not ask her now-she wouldn’t be able to answer him honestly while still half in thrall to him-but eventually, he would.
She shook her head. “No, sir,” she said quietly, moving closer to him. Marie wasn’t the most affectionate of lovers-with her powers, he could hardly blame her-but she was now, rubbing her face lightly on his sleeve and pressing against him. She reminded him of a cat, scent-marking. He didn’t think she was aware of what she was doing, so he didn’t mention it.
“Dinner,” he reminded her, and stood. She stood up as well, looking around, at sea.
“My clothes…?” Her clothes were in the dresser and the closet, exactly where they should be, but obviously she was still far enough under to ask him before she dressed.
He picked up a throw blanket and tossed it at her, wondering if she would say anything. She didn’t, just pulled the blanket around her and looked up at him expectantly. He moved past her and out of the door; she followed him without a sound.
They ate dinner, and she thirstily drank her Coke but mostly ignored her food. Towards the end of the meal she began to look a bit frantic, biting her lip and looking at him anxiously. “Um…sir?”
It was with a dark sort of satisfaction that he stood up, pushing his chair back, and held his hand out towards her. They couldn’t do this often-her submission was intoxicating, but he needed her clear-headed. She was a soldier first, his lover second. Still, this brief foray into fantasy was nice, and he’d take advantage of it as long as he could. “Come here.”
She moved towards him immediately, calming visibly when he touched her. Her body was trembling slightly. Usually, that was a sure sign of her arousal, but this was likely something else. “Don’t know why I-” she took a deep breath, then relaxed into his embrace, skin shielded by the blanket.
“You do,” he said, tracing his bare fingers over her lips. She sighed and closed her eyes. He forced himself not to make her kneel again-that was such a heady sight, surely no one could blame him for finding such pleasure in it?
He led her upstairs and settled her back on the bed, determined that he’d enjoy every second of his birthday present.
* * *
Rogue woke up the next morning naked, which was unusual, and probably dangerous. She groaned softly as she climbed out of the bed, her muscles protesting the movement, blinding reaching for her clothes.
“Going somewhere?”
She turned and scowled at Erik as she dressed. “That was kinda dumb, don’t you think? I could have killed you.”
“Again, you give me no credit,” he said, almost as cheerful as she’d ever heard him. She rolled her eyes and dressed, then climbed back into bed and lay on her stomach next to him.
“Happy birthday, Erik,” she said, smiling a little. Shyly, she leaned up and kissed him, very quickly.
“Thank you. Now, don’t mention it again.”
“Okay.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I don’t feel…you know. Like before.”
“I imagine you wouldn’t,” he said with a shrug, looking unconcerned.
“You liked it, though?” She blushed as he arched a brow at her. “I mean, it ain’t like I can return your present.”
“Of course I did. Did you?”
She thought about that, then nodded. “Yeah. It was very…intense. I feel really good, though, right now? Like I could get up and single-handedly destroy humanity.”
“That would be nice,” he said, smiling at her.
“Yup. Love some coffee first, though.” She bounded out of bed, twisting her hair into a ponytail. “I am also going to have breakfast in my pajamas, since no one is here.”
“How dangerous of you,” he murmured, and laughed at her mock glare, pushing the covers back and rising to his feet.
“Yeah, well, I live dangerously, you know.” She bit her lip, suddenly nervous.
He sighed. “What?”
“Did you like me better that way?”
“Of course not. I liked it, Marie, because I knew it wasn’t you. I’ve no real interest in complete submission to that extent from my lover, he said with a shrug. “I admit the novelty of not having you argue with me for a few days was nice-”
“I don’t argue that much-” she interrupted, then smiled sheepishly at his look. “Oh. Right.”
“And I expect it from you in certain areas-namely combat-but I no, I doubt it would be as thrilling all the time. Plus, you know, you are quite submissive in bed as it is.”
Rogue stared very hard out of the window. “Well, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she protested weakly.
He snorted. “It’s all right to like it that way, my dear. I don’t mind.”
She looked back at him and nodded. “I did like it, Erik. It was very…” she cocked her head, thinking of a word. “Freeing. Relaxing. Scary, but exciting.” She twisted her hands together before finishing. “Could we maybe…do it again sometime? Not for a while,” she said firmly, lest he get any ideas.
He smiled at her. “When’s your birthday?” he asked her, and laughed.
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: XMMF
Pairing: Magneto/Rogue
Verse: Movie, my Ideology-verse
Rating: Adult
Summary: Rogue gives Magneto something he wants for his birthday.
Warnings: BDSM, breathplay
AN: Thanks to Kethlenda for the beta! This is sort of a companion piece to Lay me down to crawl, in a way, but this is sexual D/S where the other was not. Written for this week's Demented_Allure challenge! And I totally owe Rogue's suggestion to Magneto about rides at Disneyworld to a conversation I had with Nevacaruso
Possession
Nothing stands between us here
and I won’t be denied…
“Where is everybody?”
Rogue wandered into the rec room, confused and a little concerned. The fortress was completely empty, as far as she could tell, and she was starting to get a little worried. She felt a bit better when she saw Magneto sitting at the computer desk. She hid a smile at his scowl and the pair of reading glasses she knew he hated wearing.
She thought he looked sort of cute with them, but she’d never in a million years tell him that, or else she’d be sleeping in a cell. He was many things, but she’d never use the word “cute.”
Except with the glasses.
“Everyone is gone. Mystique and Mesmero went to Germany to finish up a recruiting mission. Gambit had something to do with his family in New Orleans and I told him to take Pyro with him.”
Rogue perched on the back of the sofa. “You gave everyone vacation? We get vacation?” She grinned. “Can we go to Disneyworld?”
He looked up at her and glared. “No.”
She coughed to hide her laugh. “But you could make all the rides go without us waiting in line again-”
“Rogue,” he snapped, taking off his glasses, but she saw the briefest hint of a smile on his face. “I did that once with Charles. I believe it made him angry.”
She giggled. “I bet. So why don’t I have a vacation?”
“Is there someplace you need to go?”
She thought about that. “I don’t have anyplace to go,” she said, shrugging. “It just doesn’t seem like you, giving everyone time off-” her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Oh. I get it.”
Rogue watched him struggle with his innate curiosity for a moment before giving in. “What do you get?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“You want them all gone since it’s your birthday in a few days,” she said wisely, walking over to stand in front of him.
His glare intensified. “I don’t know what you you’re talking about, Rogue.”
She snorted. “Uh-huh. Admit it. I know you hate it, attention on your birthday, don’t you?”
“How do you know that?”
She tapped the side of her head wordlessly.
He made a disgusted sound. “I have got to stop sleeping with people who know things I would rather they not,” he muttered. To her surprise, he held a hand out to her. She placed her gloved hand in his and he tugged her towards him.
“Maybe that’s just your type,” she said with a grin, a bit surprised when he pulled her into his lap. She balanced herself with her hands resting on his shoulders. “What do you want for your birthday?”
He traced the curve of her lips with one finger, which made her shiver, and arched a brow at her.
“That’s not anything you couldn’t have anyway,” she reminded him, her voice slightly husky.
“That’s true,” he said smugly, his hand wrapping in her hair. He tugged her head back. ““Did you have a reason for coming in here to distract me?” He began blowing softly on the side of her neck.
“I was a little concerned that everyone was gone,” she said, trying to focus on what he was saying. It was very difficult. “Thought maybe you’d all jumped ship and left me here.”
“Were you afraid?” His hands rested at her waist, lightly, and his voice was low and coaxing, the same tone she heard him use when he was trying to recruit for the Brotherhood.
“Just a little concerned,” she gasped, biting her lip as he continued breathing lightly on her skin. It was weird to think they could do this without worrying about someone walking in.
“Mmm. Sometimes I find I like making you afraid of me, Marie,” he murmured. “What if that’s what I want for my birthday?”
She stilled in his arms, her heart racing, staring at him a bit warily. “I-”
He raised his hand and pressed his fingers to her lips. She opened her mouth reflexively, and his bare fingers slid inside, in and out, and she felt the surge of her powers and tried to pull away-
“No,” he ordered her in a sharp voice, hand tightening on her waist for a moment as he forced her to draw from him. Her eyes flashed angrily-he knew she didn’t like that-but she closed her eyes, allowing his mind to flow into hers.
She saw fairly easily what it was he wanted from her, and it made her frightened and aroused at the same time. She was fairly submissive in bed by the simple virtue of not being very sure what she was doing, and besides, she found she liked him to be dominant with her. However, what she saw in her mind…
It took her a few moments to realize he was watching her, his face unreadable. She felt a slow twist of warmth low in her stomach and gave him a wide-eyed stare, her breathing unsteady. She wasn’t really sure what she was going to say until she said it.
“Okay.”
He smiled at her; it wasn’t warm or friendly at all. “You do understand what it is I want?”
“You want Rogue,” she whispered, shaking a little, her hands on his shoulders.
“Magneto does,” he murmured, tracing her collarbone lightly with the pads of his fingers; the touch was so light it took longer for her powers to stir. They’d learned, in the past few months, just how much he could touch and for how long.
“This makes us sound kinda crazy,” she murmured, cocking her head at him. “Callin’ ourselves by different names.”
“Mad as birds,” he agreed, but his expression was serious. “But you understand the difference?”
She nodded. “Oh yes.” Biting her lip, Rogue thought very carefully before speaking. “I sort of…I’ve thought about it, too.”
How could she not? He was a commanding presence, and while she was careful to separate their intimate relationship from their far more structured soldier/general interactions…she couldn’t lie to him.
“Is that so?”
She nodded again, bereft of speech.
“But it frightens you.”
Her gloved fingers curled into his shirt. “Yes. You like that,” she answered, watching his eyes darken. Her voice was slightly accusatory.
“So do you,” he challenged her, brushing her hair back from her flushed face. “At least a little. I can tell.” He kissed her, very quickly, before setting her away from him. She found it hard to stand.
“Incidentally, this cannot be a regular occurrence, no matter how much we both happen to like it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she said quickly, shivering a little. “When…?”
“I’ll decide. Now leave me-I have work to get done.” With that, he turned his attention back to the screen, appearing completely unaffected by her presence.
Rogue watched him for a moment longer, then left and went upstairs. She took in the sight of her expression in the mirror that hung over the dresser; flushed face, bright eyes, nervous expression.
She wondered how long it would be before he wanted to do this. Part of her hoped it was soon. Part of her didn’t.
Fear danced like ice up her spine, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
They had a normal evening; they ate dinner together, watched a movie, and it was almost like they were on vacation. She ended up relaxed on the couch with her head in his lap, him playing idly with her hair. Without Pyro and Gambit there to burst loudly into the room, she actually fell asleep until he shook her to wake her up.
She’d sleepily followed him to bed and was asleep in minutes. She didn’t even dream.
* * *
Rogue slept late the next morning, because no one woke her. She obviously didn’t have training with Mystique, but she didn’t know if Magneto would wish to run exercises with her or not. She stood up and dressed for working out, just in case, then went down to the dining room.
The fortress felt cavernous without the others there. Feeling rather isolated, she hurried into the kitchen, only to find it empty. Sighing-breakfast would be cereal and a cold bagel-she went over and fixed herself a pot of coffee, the one thing she could cook without mishap.
Rogue ate breakfast alone, looking around the dining room absently as she did so. It was so…quiet. When she was finished, she cleaned her dishes and put them away, then went down to the gym. There was no sign of Magneto, so she ran through some exercises, did a few miles on their ancient treadmill, then stretched.
When she was finished, she felt a bit at a loss. Upstairs, his study door was closed-the ultimate “don’t disturb me” sign-but she wasn’t even sure he was in there. She went into the rec room and watched TV, but they had a very bad signal on most days and plus, she wasn’t used to being idle.
She read until lunch, which she also ate alone. After lunch she ran again, did some of the Pilates she’d been practicing with Mystique, and finished up with some yoga to relax. By the time she’d finished her third Salute to the Sun, she was pleasantly aching from exertion and covered in sweat, and going a bit mad from the silence.
Once or twice, she almost knocked on the study door, but she restrained herself. She indulged in a nice long shower, a luxury since they had rationed water with so many of them living there. She thought she heard him in the bedroom when she came out, but there was no one there.
Weird.
Rogue went down to dinner, relieved to see him in the kitchen, cooking something. She opened her mouth to say something, but he turned to her, looking as remote and frightening as he had when she’d first arrived. He placed a finger to his mouth. “Shh. I don’t wish for you to speak. Do you understand?”
She nodded slowly, her eyes wide. So this was part of…whatever it was she’d agreed to do for him. Rogue wasn’t all that talkative so it wasn’t hard for her to remain quiet-she was just glad to see him there. After dinner, she rose wordlessly and moved towards the kitchen to clean up. She gave him a shy sort of smile; his expression never wavered, and his eyes never warmed.
That night, when she came to bed, he was waiting for her in front of the doorway to their bedroom. “Tonight, Rogue, you shall sleep there,” he said flatly, pointing to the small bedroom she’d used when she’d first arrived.
She looked at him, suddenly nervous, wondering if this meant…
No. It’s part of the game. She nodded slowly, though she wasn’t relishing the thought of sleeping in a now unfamiliar bed. She paused, momentarily confused, as all her things were in their--his--room.
“You shall sleep naked for me, Rogue. I expect to find your clothing in a nice neat pile, gloves included, lying in the hallway. Do you understand?”
Heat rushed through her, along with the faintest hint of humiliation, which oddly did nothing to make the heat diminish. Oh, God. I have problems. She nodded one final time, and he waved his hand and opened her bedroom door for her.
She went into the room and slowly undressed, folding her clothes neatly. She peeked out into the hallway, blushed when she saw him still watching her with that impassioned expression, and leaned down to do as he said.
When she straightened, he gave a brief nod. “Go immediately to sleep, now.”
With that, she turned and went into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. She cried a little as she lay there in the cold sheets, though she wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it’s because it’s what he wants.
While she was crying, her hand crept between her legs, and Rogue touched herself in the dark as she lay there, wanting some sort of pleasure to make things more bearable. She came with a little sob, and while it relaxed her it wasn’t exactly pleasant.
She woke up often in the night, confused and disoriented. Once she went into the hallway and stood before the metal door, trembling and naked and cold, but she forced herself to go back to bed.
She’d agreed to this, hadn’t she? Plus, it was only one night, wasn’t it?
* * *
Except that it wasn’t.
Three days later, she was half-mad with forced silence and isolation. She’d woken up in the little bed and peeked out into the hallway, only to find a new set of clothes waiting for her. She saw him less and less, until the third day, when she saw him not at all.
Half a dozen times she nearly went to the study (he couldn’t be anywhere else, logically) and begged him to make it stop. The last time she’d seen him, at dinner the night before her day of total isolation, she’d barely been able to eat.
Each night, she fell asleep only after she’d brought herself off, and that moment of pleasure was the only thing that kept her going. Especially the third day, when she thought she’d go mad if she didn’t speak. She missed touch, as well-as careful as they had to be, it was still something she’d grown used to.
She wanted it, badly. She wanted him--no, she wanted Erik, not this cold and distant stranger who barely looked at her.
On the morning of the fourth day, she opened the door and found her uniform. Her heart sped up and she found herself breathing much too fast as she stared at it, understanding that this would be it. Her relief was so strong she nearly fell to her knees.
Instead, she picked up her uniform and carried into the bedroom.
It wasn’t like her old uniform back at the Mansion-the one she’d really never worn. It wasn’t leather, for one thing; it was some synthetic material that was waterproof and warm, providing ease of moment, but it fit her like a second skin. The top was high-necked, the sleeves full length. She had special gloves she wore with it, ones that she could easily remove, ones that had a small hole on the left fourth finger-her “secret weapon”-and those were leather, with Velcro straps she could easily tear off. The pants fit snugly yet had some stretch so she could fight, and the boots were the ones they all had-buckled up to the knee with metal straps.
The metal was for him; it was his way to keep tabs on them, help them out if needed. She always found that strangely comforting.
She dressed in the uniform and put her hair up in a ponytail, leaving the white streaks down around her face as she usually did. Her fingers traced through them and her breath caught.
Mine.
Shaking her head, she donned her trench coat, the last piece of her uniform. There was a note on top of the long black garment; it said simply, “If it’s too much, use my name.” Rogue understood immediately what that meant, though she didn’t really need the reminder. If she hadn’t done it yet, she doubted she stop him now.
She examined herself in the mirror; she looked deadly, strong. She looked like a soldier. Marie slipped away until only Rogue remained, the uncomfortable nature of the last few days forgotten.
With a proud tilt of her chin and her back straight, she left her room and went downstairs. She by passed the kitchen and went to his study, which was where they met before missions for their briefings. She knocked twice, then stood at attention with her hands behind her back.
The door swung open. “Enter.”
She walked in, her boots clicking on the floor, and came to rest in front of his desk, standing once again at attention. She’d thought when they got to this part she would feel weird, as if she were pretending to be a soldier while he pretended to be the general, but that’s not how she felt.
She briefly understood why this was dangerous. There was no fantasy. This was reality, and if they weren’t careful….her eyes remained fixed at a point above his head, as he’d always taught them to stand. Never let them see your eyes if you can help it.
“Rogue.” It was clearly a command.
She looked at him, unsurprised to find him in uniform. If he wanted to make sure she knew he was not Erik at the moment, that would be the easiest way. He’d left the helmet off, but wore everything else, including black leather gloves.
When Marie saw Erik wearing gloves, it usually made her knees weak. Rogue thought nothing of it. Dangerous. This is dangerous.
“How did you sleep last night, Rogue?”
“Fine, sir,” she said immediately, voice clipped and unemotional. In reality, she’d barely gotten more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep, but that wasn’t necessary information to share. It was the first time she’d spoken in nearly four days, but that didn’t matter, either.
“Are you lying to me?”
Startled, she looked at him. “I could have slept better, sir.”
“I see.” He walked around the desk and came to stand in front of her. Before she could fathom what he was about, he slapped her hard on the mouth. “That’s still lying. I expect the truth from you. Do you understand?”
Rogue had been punished, even harshly, and he’d struck her before. It had hurt, and made her feel humiliated. This hurt, and she was flushing, but…
Her eyes flew to his as lust hit her so hard she nearly collapsed from it. This was…oh, God. “I understand, sir,” she said, watching him, her breathing beginning to speed up.
She licked her lip, slowly, finding the pain strangely thrilling.
“I think you do,” he murmured, and she realized they weren’t talking about sleeping, or understanding… “You want to be my good girl, don’t you? Be my good soldier?”
She couldn’t take her eyes away from him. “Yes…yes, sir.”
“You’ll do whatever I want, won’t you…”
“Yes,” Rogue moaned, unable to stop herself, wanting to feel the sting of leather against her mouth again. Crazy. This is crazy.
“Yes…?” He reached out and backhanded her again, just like she wanted. Her knees buckled and she stumbled backwards.
“Yes sir,” she gasped, trembling, forcing herself to stand up straight.
“Good. Now, how did you sleep, Rogue?” His voice was firm, brooking no argument.
“Very badly, sir.”
“Much better.” He reached out and stroked her face, lightly, drawing his fingers down her cheek. “That’s what I want.” His voice was nearly a purr. “Don’t you want to please me?”
She leaned into his caress, her eyes sliding closed. “Yes, sir,” she breathed.
“Tell me, Rogue, why didn’t you sleep well?”
“I-it was cold, sir.”
“Ah. Is that the only reason?”
She opened her eyes; her eyelids felt heavy. “No, sir.”
“No?” He smiled at her, his eyes intent. “Tell me…” his hand wrapped around her neck, causing her to tense. He’d done this before, once, when she’d been worked up and unable to calm down, and it had frightened her.
“I-I was lonely, sir.” It wasn’t really the right word to describe what she’d felt, but his gloved fingers were stroking the pulse of her neck with slow, sinister intent, and she couldn’t think.
He began walking her backwards; she moved immediately, without turning to see where she was going, trusting him implicitly. “Good girl,” he purred at her, and she’d never heard his voice sound like that before. He dropped his hand and walked around her; she remained still and staring ahead, though her entire body was shaking. He pulled the trench coat from her body, leaving it pooled on the floor at her feet.
She felt his hand curl around her own as he tugged her backwards; she was disconcerted for a moment as she lost her balance, only to find herself straddling his lap with her back to him, with him seated in a chair.
His hands drifted over her body, which made her breath spill out in quick, rapid pants as he touched her. “Did you cry, all alone in your little room?” One hand wrapped around the back of her neck again and squeezed.
Rogue cried out, unable to help herself, the command implicit in the gesture nearly undoing her. Her body was warm and she knew she was wet, which should really have bothered her, but she wasn’t thinking about anything but him… “Yes, sir,” she moaned, biting her lip.
“Clasp your hands behind your back, that’s a good girl,” he murmured, and she complied immediately, her head bowing under the pressure of his fingers. His other hand rested lightly on her waist, stroking slowly up and down. “You’re shaking, Rogue…are you afraid? Is there something you need to tell me?”
Rogue remembered how she’d touched herself at night and flushed, slowly, her trembling increasing. “I-I don’t know, sir,” she said, worried, and sucked in a breath as the pressure of his fingers around her neck increased.
“I specifically requested you sleep, did I not? Did you do anything in that bed besides sleep, Rogue?” His voice hardened. “Tell me the truth, or you won’t like the consequences.”
She squirmed a little on his lap, overcome with both embarrassment and lust. His hand tightened again. “Be still,” he hissed.
“Yes, sir,” she gasped out, her mouth dry, stilling at once.
“Answer my question, Rogue,” he ordered her, and his free hand slid possessively over her breast, pinching her nipple hard beneath the fabric of her shirt.
“I-I touched myself, sir,” she whispered, staring at her knees, forcing herself not to push forward into his hand.
“Did you? Did I give you permission to do that?”
She was breathing so fast she thought she was going to hyperventilate. It was almost just as well she couldn’t see him, as frightening as his ominous presence behind her was, because if his face looked as unforgiving as his voice…
The image came upon all her all at once; she saw herself chained to the machine on Liberty Island, saw his face both implacable and resigned as he came towards her, hands outstretched. I’m sorry…
Her cry this time was one of fear, his given name trembling on her lips. He stilled immediately, as if sensing her inner battle, and he lowered his head to her ear. “I asked you a question,” he said in a low voice, though not unkindly. “When I ask you a question, my girl, I expect you to answer me. Is that not what you have promised me? Your obedience?’
His voice and the dark, seductive words he was saying chased the image from her mind, and slowly she released a breath and focused on what he’d said. “Yes, sir. My obedience.” Her body relaxed back into his, which pleased him, and he spent a moment slowly touching her and easing her trepidation.
Gradually, she reminded herself that beneath the frightening amount of realism, this was still a game. “No, sir. You did not give me permission,” she said slowly, slightly gratified when she heard him suck in a quick breath.
He wouldn’t have asked again. He would have ended it, if you had been afraid. Slowly, she began to relax further, trusting him to keep her safe.
“That was very bad of you, Rogue, why did you do it?” His hand on her neck squeezed briefly, and she began to find the sexual element to what they were doing. The slight crowbar of difference was enough to banish her fear.
“I couldn’t sleep, sir.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No, sir. I was…” she blushed, but forced herself to finish. “I was uncomfortable, sir.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Aroused, sir,” she answered, her face flaming. Rogue wasn’t used to saying these sorts of things out loud.
“Ah. Did it help?”
She began breathing fast, this time not from fear, as his fingers slid down her stomach. “Y-yes, sir.”
“I see. Are you aroused now?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered truthfully.
His hand slipped further down, and she nearly fainted at the sight of his black-gloved fingers pressing between her legs. “Is this what you did?”
“Yes, sir,” she moaned, her body shaking frantically as he began to rub.
His hand began squeezing her neck, applying pressure to the pulse-point again, making her blood slow. She began to feel dizzy. “You will come for me, won’t you? You will let me do this, do whatever I want…”
“Yes, sir,” she managed, her eyes sliding closed. Snowflakes of white, edged in black, drifted behind her closed eyes as the blood roared in her ear. She felt lightheaded, and her stomach twisted with a faint blur of nausea. If it weren’t for the continual pressure of his fingers, rubbing between her legs, the sensation would have been unpleasant.
His fingers loosened around her neck, causing her to breathe in great gasps of air. The added oxygen caused her to jump on his lap as the pleasure spiked, sudden and sharp. “Oh,” she gasped, enthralled, having never imagined anything could be that intense.
He laughed softly. “Indeed. Submit to me, girl, and I’ll give you what you want.”
She leaned her head back until it rested against his shoulder, leaning her entire body back into his embrace. He sighed, the sound almost reverent, and moved her hands from behind her back to rest, palms down, on her knees. “That’s my good girl.”
Her mind felt as absolutely calm and quiet as it had the time he’d whipped her, but this was different, because his hands were still between her legs, rubbing her insistently. Her entire body felt like it was made of liquid, and she remained quiet and passive for him as his fingers began to squeeze her neck again.
Twice more he did that, brought her to the brink of orgasm, and Rogue was so incoherent she could barely make out what he was saying. Every now and then she gave a whimpered “Yes, sir,” if she could manage it, but mostly she just gasped and stilled herself for him, surrendering utterly.
The last time was the end for her; she cried out in pleasure and lost consciousness for a moment as the snowflakes behind her eyes crowded her vision, tipped with red from the blinding intensity of her orgasm.
When she opened her eyes again, she spent a moment dragging air back into her lungs, but she couldn’t move. She looked up at him, and if she hadn’t been so far gone she might have come again from that look on his face; frightening and intense, yet tinged with obvious approval and pleasure.
His eyes gleamed. “That’s my good girl…”
After several moments, when she could breathe deeply again, he stood up and turned her to face him. He said nothing, merely removed his hands from her body and watched her. She swayed a little as she found her balance, which took a few moments without his hands to steady her. Her neck hurt; she’d have bruises from his fingers. She was glad.
“My good soldier, show me…show me you’re mine…”
Without hesitation, Rogue knelt before him, her head bowed with her hands palms-down on her knees once more. He walked around until he stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
She began to cry, shuddering, and the release of it was almost as powerful as her earlier orgasm. There was nothing left; she was utterly pulled under, drowning, and it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt.
* * *
She drifted contentedly in a fog of nothing until she began to become aware of the world around her; the soft press of light against her closed eyes, the quiet sound of her breathing, the feel of a mattress against her back.
She tried to open her eyes, but he stopped her with fingers on her lids. “Shh. Not yet. Just relax.”
At the sound of his voice, she obeyed; relaxing and falling back into that quiet pool of nothingness. It was a long time later-at least, it seemed like it-that she resurfaced again.
She swallowed; her throat hurt. This time, when she hesitantly opened her eyes, he didn’t stop her.
She was lying on her back in their bedroom, her arms at her sides, wearing nothing but her panties, her black bra, and her gloves. She didn’t remember getting up to the bedroom, or him undressing her. He was sitting next to her on the bed, no longer wearing his uniform, gently stroking her hair back from her face.
“How do you feel?”
Part of her didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to end it, but she was still in the mindset of obedience so she answered him. “My throat,” she croaked, a little embarrassed at the sound of her voice.
He held out a glass of water to her and helped her drink it, continuing to touch her very gently.
She sipped eagerly at the water but fell back again. “I feel…sleepy.” She looked up at him, very drowsy. “Is that…is that what you wanted?” she asked shyly, hoping she’d pleased him.
He nodded, then leaned down and kissed her brow. “It was, thank you.”
Feeling very pleased with herself, she smiled as her eyes slid closed. “M’glad,” she murmured. “Love you,” she whispered, wondering why the only time she could say that to him was after he did this, dominated her so completely that she couldn’t think straight.
“My good girl,” he murmured, kissing her brow again. “Sleep now.”
She did, immediately.
* * *
“Marie. Marie…” Erik waited patiently, shaking her slightly. She was probably exhausted, but she needed to eat something.
Rogue opened her eyes, yawning, stretching her lithe body and blinking sleepy dark eyes up at him. He was so pleased with her and what she’d done for him that he nearly shoved her back on the bed and forgot about dinner completely.
“Hi,” she said, arching her back up. His body stirred as her muscles tightened and relaxed, her deadly, fair skin very white against the dark sheets of his bed. “Mmm. What time is it?”
“Six thirty,” he said, stroking his hand down her disheveled hair.
Her eyes widened. “Really? Wow. Must be why I’m hungry.” She sat up and pulled her hair back-he’d taken it down when he’d undressed her-exposing her neck. He saw the bruises he’d left with his fingers around her throat.
“Do they hurt?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “A little, sir,” she said immediately, then blushed. “I mean-” her brow furrowed in uncertainty.
He laughed and reached out to touch her again, pleased by the way she calmed immediately. “You’re still in that headspace, aren’t you? It’s all right,” he soothed her, and she nodded.
“How long-how long will it last?”
“Do you want it to end?” He cocked his head at her, wondering what she’d thought of what they’d done. He’d not ask her now-she wouldn’t be able to answer him honestly while still half in thrall to him-but eventually, he would.
She shook her head. “No, sir,” she said quietly, moving closer to him. Marie wasn’t the most affectionate of lovers-with her powers, he could hardly blame her-but she was now, rubbing her face lightly on his sleeve and pressing against him. She reminded him of a cat, scent-marking. He didn’t think she was aware of what she was doing, so he didn’t mention it.
“Dinner,” he reminded her, and stood. She stood up as well, looking around, at sea.
“My clothes…?” Her clothes were in the dresser and the closet, exactly where they should be, but obviously she was still far enough under to ask him before she dressed.
He picked up a throw blanket and tossed it at her, wondering if she would say anything. She didn’t, just pulled the blanket around her and looked up at him expectantly. He moved past her and out of the door; she followed him without a sound.
They ate dinner, and she thirstily drank her Coke but mostly ignored her food. Towards the end of the meal she began to look a bit frantic, biting her lip and looking at him anxiously. “Um…sir?”
It was with a dark sort of satisfaction that he stood up, pushing his chair back, and held his hand out towards her. They couldn’t do this often-her submission was intoxicating, but he needed her clear-headed. She was a soldier first, his lover second. Still, this brief foray into fantasy was nice, and he’d take advantage of it as long as he could. “Come here.”
She moved towards him immediately, calming visibly when he touched her. Her body was trembling slightly. Usually, that was a sure sign of her arousal, but this was likely something else. “Don’t know why I-” she took a deep breath, then relaxed into his embrace, skin shielded by the blanket.
“You do,” he said, tracing his bare fingers over her lips. She sighed and closed her eyes. He forced himself not to make her kneel again-that was such a heady sight, surely no one could blame him for finding such pleasure in it?
He led her upstairs and settled her back on the bed, determined that he’d enjoy every second of his birthday present.
* * *
Rogue woke up the next morning naked, which was unusual, and probably dangerous. She groaned softly as she climbed out of the bed, her muscles protesting the movement, blinding reaching for her clothes.
“Going somewhere?”
She turned and scowled at Erik as she dressed. “That was kinda dumb, don’t you think? I could have killed you.”
“Again, you give me no credit,” he said, almost as cheerful as she’d ever heard him. She rolled her eyes and dressed, then climbed back into bed and lay on her stomach next to him.
“Happy birthday, Erik,” she said, smiling a little. Shyly, she leaned up and kissed him, very quickly.
“Thank you. Now, don’t mention it again.”
“Okay.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I don’t feel…you know. Like before.”
“I imagine you wouldn’t,” he said with a shrug, looking unconcerned.
“You liked it, though?” She blushed as he arched a brow at her. “I mean, it ain’t like I can return your present.”
“Of course I did. Did you?”
She thought about that, then nodded. “Yeah. It was very…intense. I feel really good, though, right now? Like I could get up and single-handedly destroy humanity.”
“That would be nice,” he said, smiling at her.
“Yup. Love some coffee first, though.” She bounded out of bed, twisting her hair into a ponytail. “I am also going to have breakfast in my pajamas, since no one is here.”
“How dangerous of you,” he murmured, and laughed at her mock glare, pushing the covers back and rising to his feet.
“Yeah, well, I live dangerously, you know.” She bit her lip, suddenly nervous.
He sighed. “What?”
“Did you like me better that way?”
“Of course not. I liked it, Marie, because I knew it wasn’t you. I’ve no real interest in complete submission to that extent from my lover, he said with a shrug. “I admit the novelty of not having you argue with me for a few days was nice-”
“I don’t argue that much-” she interrupted, then smiled sheepishly at his look. “Oh. Right.”
“And I expect it from you in certain areas-namely combat-but I no, I doubt it would be as thrilling all the time. Plus, you know, you are quite submissive in bed as it is.”
Rogue stared very hard out of the window. “Well, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she protested weakly.
He snorted. “It’s all right to like it that way, my dear. I don’t mind.”
She looked back at him and nodded. “I did like it, Erik. It was very…” she cocked her head, thinking of a word. “Freeing. Relaxing. Scary, but exciting.” She twisted her hands together before finishing. “Could we maybe…do it again sometime? Not for a while,” she said firmly, lest he get any ideas.
He smiled at her. “When’s your birthday?” he asked her, and laughed.