Co-Authored FIC: Insatiable (10/?)
Title: Insatiable (10/??)
Authors: Skyblue Rae & Laenwyn
Genre: PWP - but lots of plot, Adult
Rating: NC-17
Continuity: AU
Summary: Even across the room he could scent her, still upset with what he'd done and how gruff he'd been with her, but now there was an undercurrent of frustration and excitement to it. Creed fought not to grin. So, she was restless. Good. That made two of them. He figured she'd sought him out, intent on letting him know how "mean" he was. She had no idea how mean he could be. Hopefully she'd never have to see Victor Creed's version of mean.
Authors' Notes 1: Affectionately referred to as the 'Daddy Vic/Lolita Rogue fic' until we finally came up with a name just a few days ago. Our story takes place in a post-MRA world where mutants need to flee north to survive and even then have no rights - especially female mutants. Victor Creed finds ways around the system though and possibly operates above the law - so what happens when he spies a runaway that sparks more than just a bit of his interest?
A/N 2: This may just be the longest PWP in history, but promises to be loads of fun! No beta on this one, so forgive us our errors. Lots of love to Monkie for the lovely icon.
Warning: Underage Rogue here. Picture her at the beginning of X-1, high school age. We in no way encourage th is irl, but definitely in our smutty Vic-fiction.
**************************
Rogue didn't jump to his instructions immediately, as she knew Victor expected her to do. Instead she found herself staring at the door frustrated, but most of all angry. She was trying to apologize and he'd told her he wasn't mad, but if he wasn't then why did he have to snarl at her like that? He certainly seemed angry, she thought. But somehow she knew if he was upset, that it wasn't just with her. Was that a good thing?
Maybe she had actually managed to put him off balance; a man that seemed to be in control of everything and everybody. Maybe he wasn't all that invincible after all? Or was he just acting, playing her for a fool, like he had ever since he brought her here? Rogue didn't know what to make of it - or him. She thought of the man himself while she stared blindly at the bag in front of her. Kissing him had felt wonderful and she could still feel the glide of his rough tongue on hers. She didn't even mind the sharpness of a few of his teeth because somehow he managed not to hurt her with them when he kissed her.
Rogue shook her head; who was she to judge odd mutations anyway? She'd take animal-like fangs and healing any day over deadly skin. True, her mutation was suppressed now, but in its true form it could do more damage than Victor's teeth or hands. She pondered what she knew about his mutation and what it meant for him. There was no way he was as affected by it as she was by hers. His mutation was a blessing, hers a curse and she'd never believe otherwise. Besides, she refused to believe that they had anything in common.
As she put the lingerie in a drawer, she tried not to study each garment too closely. The idea of having to wear black lace undies because Creed demanded she should was enough to make her blush even with no one around. She was not his play thing! Then what are you? He'd made her put on raunchy lingerie, he'd spanked her, he'd touched her everywhere *and* gotten her to return the favor. On top of it he'd shaved her. Down there! If that didn't make her his play thing...
So, he could do whatever he wanted to her. That didn't mean she was going to stop fighting it. Sure ... she'd almost given in - but then he was a rude bastard. It wasn't like he liked her, and no matter how good his hands felt - it was wrong!
"Ohhh," she huffed, shoving the rest of the underwear in the drawer. Creed had told her it was normal to feel good about him touching her, that it wasn't wrong. But how was she supposed to feel good about it after what he'd done? Part of her wanted to let go, but every fiber in her body screamed that only bad girls wanted what he did. She wasn't old enough for something like this, and Victor - he seemed old enough to be her father. It couldn't be 'good'.
Rogue crawled into bed, but wasn't the least bit tired. How was she supposed to fall asleep after what happened? He'd left, expecting her to just go to sleep like nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong! Why did he have to touch her at all if he only meant to torment her and then be rude?
She flopped back on her pillows. Stupid Creed!
Tossing and turning for over an hour without getting sleepy, Rogue finally scrambled out of bed. She'd had enough of Creed's humiliating games. She was going to tell him so too! He could at least be nicer about everything or else she'd find some way to unlock the collar around her neck and destroy it. Then, he wouldn't be able to touch her at all. Ever again. Smiling triumphantly to herself, she snuck out into the hallway.
There were sounds coming from the den. Rouge couldn't deny the thrill of fear and excitement at what she was going to do. No doubt would he be angry with her. So be it, she thought. By now at least, she was fairly certain he wouldn't kill her.
Victor was slumped back, sleeping in his leather chair. The mere sight of him was enough to make Rogue hesitate in the doorway. He'd obviously been drinking; a glass and an empty bottle of whiskey were on the table. He'd taken off his shirt and shoes. For the first time Rogue had the chance to study the man who'd bought her, without him studying back.
This formidable man had it in his head that he could do whatever he wanted with her. Even so, he was fascinating to look at, especially while sleeping. She couldn't deny that, no matter how angry he made her. She let her eyes wander all over his broad, massive chest, and remembered what touching him had felt like. Victor had told her he'd been in trouble more than once, and been severely hurt in the process, but he had no scars to show for it. His skin was flawless and at the same time slightly weathered enough to make him rugged. Rogue wondered at his age since his skin was probably no indication.
She'd accidentally nicked him with the scissors earlier, and watched as the tiny wound healed right in front of her eyes. What that meant, exactly, she wasn't sure. Because he wouldn't say! Could he heal from all kinds of injury? Even death? Was it like being ... immortal? That he was powerful, and "knew people in the right places" was certain and it was comforting, too. Was it possible that he could never be really hurt without healing up, maybe never get sick? If he said he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her, she knew that was within his power and he was telling the truth. Victor Creed, her bastard owner, could keep her safe from harm at all costs. Looking at him now, she realized she could've ended up with someone ten times worse.
***
Creed had been about to drift off, but the moment the door to his little fawn's bedroom opened, his senses were back on high alert. Still slightly buzzed, he couldn't help but pretend sleep. There was no use denying the pleasure he felt at having her look at him the way she did. Even across the room he could scent her, still upset with what he'd done and how gruff he'd been with her but now there was an undercurrent of frustration and excitement to it. Creed fought not to grin. So, she was restless. Good. That made two of them. He figured she'd sought him out, intent on letting him know how "mean" he was. She had no idea how mean he could be. Hopefully she'd never have to see Victor Creed's version of mean.
Deep down though, she'd probably come into the den because he hadn't given her release. She couldn't sleep because of her frustration - at him and at her own body. He was sure of it. There were still threads of arousal mixed with the anger she radiated. Even better, he thought.
He heard her sigh quietly, then tip toe back upstairs. His fawn needed time to think about just how good she had it. He needed time away so he could get his head on straight. He'd bought her to enjoy, but her feelings weren't supposed to be a major consideration. Somehow she'd made them such. Getting focused around her was proving difficult, plus he'd had an offer for some work tomorrow. He'd leave at dawn and give her tomorrow alone.
Victor rolled his neck before stretching out for some real sleep. He could see it now, her look at realizing he was gone for the day. First she'd be overjoyed at his absence, but by the end of the day she might feel forgotten. She'd probably have that little pout on her face upon his return. The thought made him grin smugly. He was already learning what to expect from her.
What he didn't expect was to dream of that pout all night long.
******
Rogue awoke to find a note on the counter in Creed's small, block print:
'I will be gone for the day. I may be back for dinner - cook for two. You may go outside.'
"Gee, thanks," Rogue said sarcastically.
Looking around, the reality set in. She had the entire day to herself. She didn't have to worry about him making her feel weird or talking to her in that voice. Rogue smiled and, with a little bounce, she bolted up the stairs.
It was spring and the sun was out and she really wanted to get out of his house, so she traded her jeans for a comfy pair of shorts and slid on a pair of sneakers. She grabbed the i-pod and was about to head downstairs, but stopped in the hall. Not sure what she was hoping to accomplish, she walked towards the door of Creed's bedroom. Well - he was away and she was a naturally nosey teenage girl. Plus, she thought, she lived here too and he'd never told her to stay out of his room. Rogue turned the door knob and found it locked.
"Uh," she muttered. She turned it more firmly. Definitely locked.
She went downstairs and wandered through the house. Every other room was open and available, but sure enough, the door leading to what must be the basement, was also locked. That's fine, she thought again. She didn't want to know what was in his nasty old room or the basement anyway.
Rogue walked out the front door and slid the i-pod's ear buds on, thrusting her chin out defiantly. Down the front steps and past the area where he parked his truck, following the driveway, she wandered towards the front gate. It was a decent walk to finally reach the gate. She stared up at it, the black iron probably standing four or five feet taller than her. It seemed to stretch out forever in either direction and she wondered if she should walk the fence to see where it took her. Why not? It wasn't like she had anything else to do.
Rogue wandered down the length of fence for awhile, noticing a few mounted cameras in places. When she got a little too close, a red light would flash near the camera. Some kind of sensor?
"Paranoid, much?" she mumbled to herself.
Victor Creed was obviously into very dangerous stuff to think he needed to protect himself and lock whomever out that badly. Did he have a problem with people trying to get to him? She knew about his wish to keep her from getting away, but prior to her coming to live here, what reason would he have for all the hardware?
The fence led into the woods and went from black iron to tall chain link. Somehow she got the feeling that if she, or anyone else, attempted to climb said chain link; they'd get a shocking surprise. She had no interest in finding out. As a matter of fact, she wasn't really interested in escape. As much as he unnerved her and as uncomfortable as she sometimes was with their situation, there was no drive for her to run away. Where would she go? With no place to run and the dangers outside those gates so imminent, her bastard owner was the better option - for now.
"Kinda depressing," she said to herself, but that wasn't true either. It wasn't terribly depressing at all actually. It wasn't perfect, but it was tolerable. If only he would just leave her alone. Let her live here, maybe clean his house and cook and do whatever to carry her weight around the place - but not look at her like that or make her feel all embarrassed and squishy inside. Not likely, she thought.
"Oh well," she said, picking a short stick up off the ground. She'd deal. She'd manage, she always did. And it wasn't so bad, if he wouldn't be so weird about it.
Swishing the stick through the air, Rogue headed back towards the house. Victor's advances weren't torture exactly, even if she'd never admit it. It was difficult enough to admit it to herself. When he did things to her it was like she kind of wanted it, but another part of her was screaming 'NO!', so she was either wrapped up in how good it felt or wanting to smack him for doing those things to her.
Plus, he was just so odd sometimes. She never knew when he was going to be gruff and distant, or arrogant and demanding, or mean and shouting, or taunting and maybe even a little bit sexy. He was nerve wracking. The whole thing was nerve wracking! A year ago she was trying to maneuver through high school and fretting over what boy found her cute. Now she belonged to this mutant who was involved in God knows what, and it wasn't boys she was fretting over. It was a man. A very real, very tall, very large, very scary man.
What could he possibly see in her anyway? Rogue wasn't clueless. As frightening as Creed could be, she imagined there were tons of women that would be all over him like white on rice. But sometimes he acted like he really thought she was pretty, like she was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen - and it hurt to think he might just be pretending.
"Stop it Rogue," she fussed at herself. It shouldn't matter what he thought of her or how he felt. Their situation was what it was, and it wasn't like they were 'a couple'. She'd try to make the most of it and survive, and if he went too far or tried to do anything weird, then she'd fight it - somehow. It was best to just take it one day at a time. Who knew? He could get tired of her after a while and let her go. Maybe send her off with some money or if not she'd figure something out on her own. She'd have to, because in this world, she had no choice.
*****
Creed had watched from his laptop as Rogue approached the front gate. He knew his curious little girl wouldn't be able to resist investigating now that he was gone. Truth was, he'd have been disappointed if she hadn't snooped at least a little. She might be upset with him for his treatment of the situation last night, but he knew that was all there was to it. She could pout and glare at him, trying to put up a tough facade. Reality was that she couldn't help but respond to him - not that she couldn't stand him. It wasn't like that all. The one Rogue had issues with was herself. Creed didn't mind a challenge, as she'd already proven to be, and fighting what she wanted would only keep things interesting. For now.
She'd yield to him eventually, no question about it. He'd sensed the fire within her, and knew that with a little patience and some proper training, she'd come around. His little fawn would turn into a minx, and she'd learn to be grateful too.
He continued to watch as she entered the house. From the indoor cameras, he could see her pilfering around the kitchen, snacking. Then she went to her room to grab one of those notebooks and sketch pads he'd bought her. She went back outside onto the back patio and sat in one of the lounge chairs. Satisfied that his clever girl was going to stay out of trouble, Creed snapped his laptop shut and went on about his business.
*****
Hours slipped by on Rogue as she sat outside, writing and drawing. The weather was perfect and it was only when her hand started hurting from all the work that she put her pencils down. She stretched her legs and wandered around the patio and deck, checking out all of Victor Creed's luxury. The man had set up his outdoor area with nice, cushioned lounge chairs, a big patio table and chairs, umbrella, state of the art grill, a huge jacuzzi that she was NOT going to think about, a fire pit, and a lit path heading away from the house.
He certainly didn't seem like a man who cared about luxury, but maybe when he spent time at home, he wanted to have everything that he enjoyed exactly as he wanted it. Now he definitely seemed like that kind of man. The old saying that a man's home was his castle must be true in his case. Plus, Rogue thought, being a mutant and dealing with the every day prejudice of it - he probably felt like this place was his oasis. She understood that, and understood his desire to have a place that felt safe and comfortable.
Easy Rogue. She stopped herself, not wanting to become at all understanding of him. It wasn't as if they had tons in common. They weren't alike - at all! They weren't! Picking up her items, Rogue went back inside, to her room for a nap.
*****
It was just after dark before Creed returned home. He'd cleaned up from his job, but still wore the protective leather over his wrists and forearms, heavy black boots, and leather straps over his legs that could holster various weapons. Smiling to himself, Creed thought about how he rarely needed weapons other than his own two hands. Still, sometimes jobs needed to be ... neater.
He walked in, tossing his bag into the closet. He'd remove it to the basement later.
Rogue stood in the kitchen, washing something in the sink so her back was to him. She was still listening to his i-pod, unaware that he'd returned, so he leaned against the refrigerator to watch her. She hummed along quietly with the music while scrubbing down carrot sticks and alternatively using them to keep the beat in the air.
There was a grin creeping onto his lips, but Creed was loathed to admit it. After a day like today, how could something so mundane make him want to smile?
Then Rogue sang a little louder so that he could fight smiling no longer.
"Ah you know you're a cute little heart breaker ... Foxy!" she sang as her head bobbed and her hips shook. "You know you're a sweet lil' lovemaker. Ha - Foxy!"
To keep from laughing at the sight or recognizing how much he enjoyed it, he opened the fridge for a beer. The noise was enough for Rogue to hear and she spun around, trying to pull out the ear buds with the carrot sticks still in her hands.
"Oh! I didn't ... I didn't hear you. Sorry," she said sheepishly, trying to play off her performance. Suddenly very busy, she went to add pasta to the pot of water that was boiling on the stove.
Creed took a long sip of his beer. "What are you cooking ... Foxy?" he asked smugly.
Rogue went back to her carrots, trying to ignore his attempt at embarrassing her. She didn't need his help in that department obviously.
"Spaghetti with meat sauce and a salad," she answered shortly.
Taking her by the shoulders, Creed turned her to face him.
"And?" He held her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. He knew his little girl wasn't dense, yet she insisted on fighting the rules on how things were done around his house. She was still trying to put up a tough facade and normally he wouldn't let something like that get to him, but after a long day of hard work, he had no time for coming home to a girl with a stuck up attitude. He expected her to be happy to see him - or at least fake it. He wanted to see that little pout over him being gone all day. Dammit.
Rogue's look went from embarrassment to forced defiance, but she still managed to look so innocent, with those big brown eyes and blushing cheeks.
"And ... what?"
Creed sighed impatiently. "I'm not gonna put up with a haughty attitude and bad manners, especially not after the day I've had. You're here to please me, and you being snooty does not please me at all. It upsets me, you got that?"
She nodded at what he'd just told her.
"Try again!" He couldn't keep the first traces of anger from his voice. She was still trying to fight him on this.
Rogue's shoulders tensed at the tone. "Yes, sir," she murmured.
Pleased with her answer, he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. It was something he'd longed to do all day. She was wearing that stuff on her lips again, making Creed's eyes gleam at the look of them.
Rogue stood there, letting him stare, but she took the opportunity to stare back. She looked down at the hand that was holding her chin and followed it to his forearms encased in leather. Why was he dressed like that?
"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked, trying to feign repulsion. The truth was the look kind of fit him, but no way was she going to tell him.
Creed just raised an eyebrow at her with a stern look. Surely she remembered how he felt about too many damn questions. God the girl loved to push her luck.
"More questions, Rogue? Haven't we been over this before?"
"But I-" she started, but his hand dropped and he moved both to the counter behind her, successfully pinning her in. Leaning forward, he spoke quietly, repeating her words. "But I, what Rogue?"
She shook her head, knowing when to let matters go. "Nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing, I was just going to say ... but I've got dinner ready. You hungry?" she tried with a weak smile.
Rogue needed to be reminded of her place, Creed thought; that she wasn't in a position of power around here. If he wanted her to do something, she needed to jump to it.
"Good girl. Now let's eat." Creed swatted Rogue's ass, but not like he had the day before. Now, it was only to add a little emphasis to what he'd just said. He couldn't help grinning at her when she jumped, then turned to glare at him.
They sat down at the dinner table. Rogue tried her best to calm her nerves and blushing cheeks. It seemed like she was walking around with a constant blush these days. When was he going to get off her case? Damn the man.
He seemed to like what she'd made for dinner though. Her own appetite had lessened at his remark about her manners. Well, where were *his* manners? No 'thank you for dinner' or anything.
She'd learned not to stare too openly at Victor, but he made it impossible for her not to look. It wasn't that he was much to look at, because he wasn't. He was just tall and scary and too old anyway. What he was wearing was interesting though; wrist guards and leather, straps everywhere. It reminded Rogue of something she'd seen a woman wear in one of those dirty movies her cousin had showed her. Victor had told her he'd been out on business, but what kind of business? She did not want to think about.
Of course Victor noticed her looking at him. He always noticed! She couldn't be sneaky with anything, Rogue thought. His slightly arrogant smile turned into a smug grin. He knew what she'd been thinking! Rogue lowered her eyes and tried to focus on what was on her plate. Spaghetti. She wasn't the least bit hungry anymore. Victor on the other hand, had already finished. He pushed his plate aside and stood.
"In the den," he said.
"But I'm not f-," Rogue began, protesting. Why wouldn't he even let her finish her meal? Her brow crinkled in annoyance even though she knew he'd give her a hard time for it.
Victor grabbed her by her elbow and pulled her to her feet. He was looking at her with that facial expression again. The one that meant he was up to something. What did he want with her this time? Why couldn't she at least finish her meal? It wasn't as if she was going anywhere!
Creed noticed her annoyance and grinned. "You can finish later, baby girl. I'm sure you'll be starving by the time we're done."
Rogue wet her lips without thinking. Why was he looking at her like that? He knew she wasn't on the pill yet, so what could he want with her now? Trying not to imagine different scenarios, Rogue lowered her eyes. She did not want to think about what Victor might have in mind.
"Now, in the den before I change my mind and make it the bedroom instead," he said, still grinning at her.