SOAP GETS IN YOUR FANGS, TOO.

Chapter One: Nostalgia

Westchester, New York. X-Institute 1974

I: Rogue

Time has a way of playing little jokes on you that aren't funny.

If you're not a woman like me, you don't know that.

And you know what I wish?

I wish I could laugh at them.

But I don't have that kind of sense of humour.

The Harlequin was never a supervillain, but her horrendous baggage is much worse than mine, and it never seems to bother her when the past comes back to haunt her.

Maybe it's because I'm a lady.

Don't laugh, I am a lady, a genuine Southern belle.

And I do believe life would have been easier for me if I was a heavily-tattooed redheaded Irishwoman from Brooklyn.

The sword cuts both ways.

Because I am a lady, people can find it in their hearts to forgive me some serious transgressions.

Maybe I never came out of a burning building full of barely-alive machine-gunned C of H terrorists who were smoking and toasting in there the same way they soon would be in Hell, laughing like a madman and brandishing the bloody, dripping, severed head of William Styrker's brother and second-in-command John, but I have some horrendous baggage of my own.

I was with the Brotherhood, Mystique is my stepmother, I tried to kill Ms. Marvel, fought the Avengers, and duked it out with the X-Men at the Pentagon.

It's a small world.

The Harlequin's partner, the Comedian, AKA Col. Edward Morgan Blake, USMC Special Forces, Director of Covert Operations for S.H.I.E.L.D, he put a fifty calibre bullet in me, at the time.

I have to say, even considering the powers I had absorbed, that slowed my Mustang down.

Maybe it wasn't the bullet, though, maybe it was just him.

I must say, he is a terribly handsome man, especially toting a fifty calibre machine gun in his bare hands like it was a water pistol.

The man never stopped smoking, or grinning, and when Sabretooth saw him, he took immediate evasive action.

And ran right into Eddie's good friend and Victor's worst enemy, Logan.

But, all is forgiven, now.

I still have the bullet.

But I did repent of my evil ways, and truly, and now, I have a whole new life.

I tried to explain that concept to Trivelino.

That I was no longer the same person who had been a member of the brotherhood, Mystique's stepdaughter, Sabretooth's protégé.

And she gave me a wry New York look over her cigarette and stuck her finger, through my shirt, into the scar that fifty calibre bullet left.

"Sure you ain't, Rogue. Bullshit. Ya know somethin'? There's ain't no whole new you, an' no whole new life. You're the same old you and it's the same old life. Just because you turned over a new leaf, that don't mean you can immediately dissasciate yourself from every thing you said and did in the past. You think that way, you're fuckin' yourself. You'll see."

As it turned out, she was right.

The only problem with a whole new life is that the bad old life has a way of constantly intruding on it.

But, I am a lady, and I can handle most of the obstacles this throws in my path.

I have mastered the art of graciously bearing rebukes and insults, of the apologetic laugh and the little joke to excuse myself, or of heartfelt apologies.

I have learned to forget the names and faces of people I shouldn't have known, and disassociate myself with everything I did with them.

I have even forsaken the woman who was more of a mother to me than my own mother, but, of course, I was forsaken by her, first.

But…

Even though I am a lady, I am still a woman.

And there are things a woman can never forget.

That is why, on one fine, lovely and cool Indian summer day, I began my day at the Institute and found Sabretooth defiantly having a lonely breakfast, shunned by the rest of the team, I took it worse than anyone.

Well, anyone except Logan.

And I asked Logan what he was doing in our midst, and that's when the joke was on me.

Victor Creed was trying to insinuate himself back into the loving arms of the US military and intelligence communities, and with politics as usual being what it is, he was given a second chance.

By his former commanding officer in Vietnam, who had once been his boss when he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D covert, none other than that charming black Irish rogue who smiled at me just the way a man smiles at a woman, right before she shot me.

The Comedian, knowing Victor as well as he did, had sent Sabretooth to the X-Institute to prove his intentions to put the White Hat were back on under the watchful eye of Wolverine.

If he made one mistake, if he got up to his old tricks again, he would be cast out of Uncle Sam's sight, forever.

Which is exactly what Logan was hoping for.

And that was why he was breakfasting with quiet defiance, instead of picking the world's biggest lunchroom brawl of all time.

That was the joke.

Here comes the punchline.

Logan told me he was going to be at the X-Mansion for six months.

I looked over at Victor Creed, again, and this time, he looked back at me.

I died, just a little.

"Rogue, are you alright?" Logan asked me.

Logan.

What the hell am I going to tell him?

Jean tells me that when she gets in a situation where her back is against the wall, she asks herself, "What would Napalm do?"

If it's a good idea, she does it, and if it's ridiculous, at lest she gets a laugh that makes her feel better

Why, why, why can't I be like Liv Napier, who has laughed off all her transgressions and wears them on her sleeve, who's life is like an open book, every page of which is torn and dirty?

"I'm fine, Logan. I just find his presence here…shocking."

Sabretooth heard me, and, probably for the first time since his arrival, not only did he smile, but he started to laugh.

I thought of what Napalm would do.

And I smiled.

"Logan, remember when you told me that no good was going to come of me absorbing any of your powers?"

Logan smiled, too.

"I was wrong?"

"Yes."

SNIKT!

"Good morning, Victor. It's been what, two years? I would ask how you've been doing, but I do read the newspaper. I know you've hit hard times, but, you must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if you came slinking back to Eddie Blake, and then you came crawling here."

"I dunno, Stripe. You came crawlin' here, first. Nice claws. They look good on you. So, how close are ya to that little runt?"

I heard Logan swear, and the sound of a chair scraping back, but I was there first, with one set of claws to Sabretooth's throat.

"Victor, don't be crude. I am a lady, remember? So, as a lady, I really must thank you for complementing me on my claws. They do look good on me. And they would look good in you. So stay the fuck out of my way. I may not be able to kill you, sugah, but I can hurt you. Again. And again. And again."

Victor remained unfazed.

"Hey, baby, if that's the only way, I don't give a fuck. I'll take it." He said.

I should have said, "Fuck you."

Instead, I just smiled, demurely, sheathed my claws, and walked away.

I went back to sit with Logan, but stopped on the way to get some breakfast.

Victor Creed was still grinning at me, but at least now, I had my appetite back.

"I hate him. But it's…complicated" I told Logan.

"Rogue, darlin', I know exactly what you mean." He replied.

II: Victor

Rogue was trying to play it high and mighty with him, and he could understand her playing it up for the stiffs, but he wasn't going to let her think he was buying it.

He waited until he could get her alone in one of the hallways.

"Hey, wait a minute, there, Stripe. I know I'm not the most popular guy around, but even Jimmy doesn't act like he doesn't know me."

"Go away and leave me alone, Victor. If I wanted to talk to you, I would have, by now."

"Listen, frail, I know you wanna rewrite your history. I wanna rewrite mine, too. You got a sweet deal going on here, and all I want is in on it. I know why Jimmy wants ta kill me. But what did I ever do to you?"

Victor knew how much she hated it when he called her frail.

Rogue popped her impressive set of bone claws, and put them to his throat.

Sabretooth purred deep in his chest, and he could smell how nervous it made her.

That was progress.

"Ya know, baby, I really like you with those claws."

"Save it, Victor! Don't call me frail. I'll cut your fucking head off. No, you wouldn't miss that. Maybe I'll cut your fucking balls off, instead!"

"That's not very ladylike, Stripe."

She sunk the claws in, a little.

It hurt, and he was bleeding, but not much.

"Don't call me Stripe, either! Leave me alone, Victor! I have spent the past two years trying to forget about what you did to me, and before I let you do it again, I'll kill you! And I'll keep killing you until you are dead!"

Rogue sheathed her claws and went on her way.

Snikt!

"You know what, bub? You really didn't want me to hear that. You're in a world of shit, now. Asshole."

Some days you just shouldn't bother to haul your ass out of bed.

"Leave it alone, Jimmy. It's not what you think."

"No? Then what the fuck is it, ya goddamn murderin' rapin' no good piece of shit?"

Sabretooth whirled around, with his claws out, too.

He was just about done with this shit.

He poked a claw into the middle of Wolverine's chest as he spoke.

"I know what you're up to, little brother. You wanna make me lose my cool so I lose my shot and get outa your territory! Well, get this, runt. In six months, I'm outa here, I ain't tryin' to knock you outa your spot. And I ain't tryin' to cut in on any of your broads. I just wanna do my time here, and prove I can be a nice guy the same way my little brother's a nice guy. You know, with his claws in everything he can't get his cock into. And, as for Little Miss Magnolia Blossoms, there's some things about that sweet little Southern belle that you don't know, Jimmy. Before you pull my guts out, why don't you ask her about me?"

Victor wanted to laugh at the shocked look on his brother's face, but he just smirked.

"I don't believe you, Vic. You're fulla shit."

"Why? There's lots of frails who wanna piece of me."

"Not Rogue."

"Why? Because she's a lady? She's been with you an' Charlie X for about two years now, but she was with the Brotherhood before that. And I taught her everything she knows. An' I mean everything, Jimmy. What have you taught her that I didn't?"

"Things ain't like that with me an' Rogue. My dance card's a little full, right now."

"I noticed. You get yours, Jimmy. Lots of it. Just leave me alone and let me get mine."

Night had fallen over the X-Institute.

A dark night, lit ominously by the full moon.

Ominously for some of the faculty, who lay awake thinking that the violent and unpredictable Victor Creed, Sabretooth, was roaming the place with impunity, thanks to Charles Xavier's irrepressible belief that people could change.

And roaming the place Vic Creed was.

He rolled in late from a bar crawl, nursing a bad belly full of cheap draft beer, bitter about the quality, or lack thereof, of the broads he ran into.

Jimmy, he was like Pop.

He'd fuck anything with a pussy and a pulse, especially after he had a few beers.

Victor, he was a little pickier.

But, there was an alternative to the horse-faced old whores at the Thruway Tavern.

After all, half the reason he had got back on the good guy train was to live the good life, and start pulling a higher class of tail.

There was a lot of high class tail to be had at Xavier's.

Some of those teenage broads were so incredibly turned on by how big, and bad, and mean ol' Vic Creed was, and the fact they'd been told to not so much as speak to him, well that alone made him the candy they all wanted.

The Harlequin sure was right about telling him to watch where he stuck his cock.

And Napalm wasn't kidding about things being all go, all night long, at the X-Mansion.

Maybe he was minding his P's and Q's because his neck was stuck out for the chop, but nobody else was, that was for damn sure.

Vic kept late nights, so he saw it all.

You could get on that train real close to home, with his brother, the runt.

Victor just couldn't believe the kind of shit Jimmy got away with.

For one thing, he didn't have the opportunity to mind his P's and Q's, because he was too busy servicing half the broads in the place.

Wednesdays he had his standing date with Liv Napier, and whether he kept in at the mansion or in the City, he kept it.

He'd have to be crazy not to.

Napalm had killed Sabretooth twice, but he'd spent the night with her four of five times, and with a horny, hot, homicidal hellcat of an alpha bitch like Trivelino J. Napier, that was a good score.

The only man in the world who could keep her in line was Eddie Blake, and even Vic Creed liked to keep his distance from the Comedian.

Now, as for Jimmy's Monday date, Sabretooth thought The Great and Powerful Miss Jean Grey was a real pain in the ass broad, and he'd bet Jimmy did too, but the stupid little bastard was so in love with her, he wouldn't admit it to himself.

That pissed Victor off.

He didn't like the idea of some frail making a monkey out of his brother, and under normal circumstances, he would have done to her what he did to the other frails who made a fool of Jimmy. But he had to keep his nose clean, so he let it slide.

For now.

And the rest of the week, Jimmy was occupied with his main squeeze, Yukon Mel Reinhardt, AKA Femme Fatale, a genuine Nymph who was a full member of the Frisco Hell's Angels, looked like the Dresden doll on the St. Pauli Girl bottles, and could lift a pickup truck over her head without breaking a sweat.

It really pissed Vic off.

Jimmy sleazed around the place with a beer in his hand and a cigar in his mouth, in undershirts with bloodstains on them, pausing between three-day drunks and all-night screws only to raid the fridge and commandeer the TV. But he could do no wrong, because he was the goddamn Wolverine.

If he ever wanted to ball one of his broads on Charlie X's desk and then wipe his dick off on the curtains, well, that would be alright.

For example, Vic had been watching the Late, Late Movie and having a few beers on the previous Thursday when the Mighty Wolverine rolled in, drunk as a skunk at three in the morning naked from the waist up, with blood up to his fucking elbows and his face looking like ten pounds of raw hamburger.

He started yelling for his old lady to come down the fucking stairs, because he'd had a big, loud, argument with her in front of everybody earlier that night, and gone off half-cocked, and now he was back to finish it.

Yukon Mel came out on the landing in her underwear and told him to come upstairs and do his job before she had to come down there and throw him through the wall.

Jimmy said he'd like to see her try it, and popped his claws.

Victor waited for Scooter to come out and read him the riot act, or maybe Charlie X, but nobody did shit.

He couldn't believe it.

Sabretooth put his beer down.

"Hey, Jimmy, don't be a shithead.'

Snikt!

"What the fuck did you say to me?"

"Jesus, what the fuck happened to your face?"

"It got slammed against a hot griddle."

"Ouch! All the more reason ya shouldn't be in the mood for more punishment. You an' me both know you're right, but ya know how women are. They're always fuckin' right, even when they're not. I don't know your old lady all that well, but she don't seem like the kind of broad who fucks around and makes empty threats. She's gonna come down here, and throw you through the wall. Why don'tcha just give her the oh baby, baby, an' kiss an' make up. It'll feel a lot better than remodelin' the masonry, the hard way. And ya know Scooter will take it outa your pay for the next two fuckin' years." He commented.

See, you had to know how to talk to Jimmy.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He said, looking less like raw hamburger all the time.

Jimmy, he was like Pa, his healing factor was fast as lightening.

The lucky little prick.

He sheathed his claws and staggered towards the stairs.

"What the fuck happened to you, Daddy? You didn't kill any innocent people, did you?" the frail said.

Daddy?

Jesus holy shit Christ, she calls him Daddy?

Fucking hell, the dirty little runt prick.

Just like Pa.

"No, darlin', I didn't kill anybody. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a mean ol' man."

"You sure are, Daddy. C'mon, let's take a bath an' go to bed. We ain't got much night left."

You know what it was?

It was un-fucking-believable.

Jimmy could get away with shit like that, and nobody would say a fucking word to him, and meanwhile, if Vic so much as shoved his own brother in the kitchen or took a second look at the legion of hot young frails that were coming out of every corner of this dump, he was going to get shitcanned?

And these are supposed to be the good guys?

You wouldn't know it when the lights go off.

The kids in residence sure took advantage of the fact that ol' Chuck X had a tendency to forget about fucking.

They didn't.

All night you heard doors opening and closing and you saw teenage mutants going from room to room, in all the stages of undress from rumpled to bare-ass naked, toting armfuls of records and bags of weed and six packs of beer and bottles of whiskey.

Popping birth control pills and tearing the wrappers on Trojans open with their teeth

By the time it got to be about two in the morning, there was so much fucking going on, the whole place smelled like a goddamn whorehouse.

Not that the faculty were all having a cup of tea and hitting the sack.

Jimmy wasn't the only one with his cock out and his door locked.

Oh no.

Hank McCoy had a goddamn parade of women going in and out of his rooms.

Some nights one would leave and an hour later another one would show up.

They were all mutants, and Hank liked his in all sizes and shapes and colours, and things like fur and scales and feathers didn't seem to bother him.

Vic imagined the frails with fur and scales and feathers and wings didn't have a lot of other places to go to get laid, and the ones who could pass easier, and looked like ordinary humans, well, Beast was a kick they hadn't tried.

Hell, one night Tony Stark showed up, walked through the common room and said hello to him quite casually before heading in the direction of Storm's rooms, and Vic still couldn't figure out what the hell Emma saw in Scooter, she was around every Monday.

Yeah, it was a real bitch, everybody was fucking but him.

Because he was being a good boy.

Well, pretty much.

That one time he went into his bedroom and there were two frails that were too damn cute to be a minute over 17 waiting for him with a case of cold beer, both of them wearing nothing but a smile, well, shit, what else was he going to do?

Teach them how to play Poker?

That was a trick it was too risky to repeat.

What he was about to do was risky as hell, but Sabretooth knew himself.

If he didn't get down to getting laid on a regular basis pretty soon, he was just going to up and fucking kill somebody.

Maybe a whole shitload of somebodies.

So, what he was going to have to do was what he'd done by trying this White Hat bullshit on in the first place.

Take a fucking chance.

III: Rogue

Not only was the joke on me, but I was kidding myself.

It was, as it so happened, technically a Wednesday, it became so at midnight when our peace and quiet was disturbed by the dramatic entrance of the Harlequin, still in costume.

A costume that was torn in several places so you could see body armor and tattoos, with three bullet holes in the chest.

She wiped her nose, which was dripping blood, but nowhere near enough to account for the fact that she was drenched in the stuff.

She flopped onto the sofa in the common room, where Logan was sitting at one end watching the Maple Leafs, and Victor was sitting on the other.

"Christ in heaven, whatta fuckin' night! Lookit my costume. I mean, that's the goddamn end of this fuckin' costume. Who's got a beer for me? Thanks, Vic. Ya know what, Logan? I'm goin upstairs an' take a goddamn bath. I'll be seein' you later."

"Are ya hurt, darlin'?"

"Shit, I ain't hurt that bad. Ya know what I mean?"

She stood up and one of the bullets fell out of her costume.

Victor picked it up.

".357?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sure is. An' I woulda let the cocksucker live if all he did was shoot me, but you know while I was lying on my back because I was on my ass from the impact, the fucker hadda get on top of me?"

Liv cracked the beer, dank half of it, belched, and laughed.

"Yeah, he fucked up on that one. Fucked up real bad. None of this is my blood."

"I figured that. What did you do to him?"

"Vic, you don't want to know that."

"Sure I do, Jimmy. What did you do, Red? Chop his dick off?"

"Nope. Maybe I would if I'd been thinkin'. But I wasn't thinkin'. I lost my shit, an' I just went crazy on him. I just started hittin' him, an' bashin' him, an' kickin' him; I beat the motherfucker to a pulp. I think I still woulda let him live, but he went for his gun and shot me in the back. Uh-huh. I'm one of these dumb motherfuckers who only wears a chest plate, like my fuckin' armor don't go all the way around? What a fuckin' nimrod asshole cocksucker, yunno? I got my machete out and turned around and laid him open from neck to nuts. Son of a bitch ain't gonna get any deader than he was when I left him, that's' for goddam sure. What a night. And I almost went a month without havin' ta kill somebody. Oh well. Fuck it."

With that, she went upstairs.

Logan went after her, at the end of the game, and when they went to bed, I went to bed.

It doesn't really matter that my room isn't close to Logan's, when he and Liv hit the sheets, they hit them hard.

Scott and Jean's bedroom is adjacent to Logan's, and Scott told me that he had to ask Logan to move his bed to the far wall or he and Jean would never get a night of sleep, and even so, sometimes pictures fall off their wall.

On Wednesdays, though, Scott and Jean go to the city and have a night out and stay in a motel.

Because you just can't be that close to the blast zone, and live.

And I lay there, sleepless, listening to the carnal concerto coming from Logan's rooms as he hit Liv Napier a hell of a lot harder than bullets from a .357 and she hit back.

Do you know what kind of hell I live in?

Contact with me, with my skin, is deadly.

Without going into a lengthy explanation of my powers, and what they do, suffice it to say I can kill a man by touching him for too long, so, unless we're talking about Superman, or someone with extreme healing ability, sex is out of the question.

I can touch Logan.

I can touch Logan all day; his healing factor is such that my touch doesn't bother him; and I have already had unfortunate occasion to absorb his powers.

As for assuming his personality, Logan's psi blocks are so massive even he can't penetrate some of them, and neither can Charles or Jean.

He doesn't credit them to the Weapon X program, he credits them to the way his father raised him.

The same father who raised his brother, another man involved in the Weapon X program.

Another man I can't possibly seriously harm or kill.

Another man who used to consider me his protégé.

A man I was even closer to than I am to Logan.

Victor Creed.

I knew it was only a matter of time, before he came to me, but I hated Victor, hated him for picking Wednesday night.

But one thing about the sons of Black Tom Logan, they can always smell when there's blood in the water.

Then again, maybe Victor was lying in his bed, listening to it, and he just couldn't stand it, either.

But make no mistake, I hated him, hated him right down to the marrow of his feral bones when, quietly as a housecat, he slipped in the door.

"Ah thought you'd show up here, soon enough, you son of a bitch! You've got a lot of fucking nerve! Why don't you just git the hail outa mah room, Victor Creed!"

Victor just smiled.

I could have popped the claws and sunk them into his chest, and he would have laughed at me.

He's a very strange man, Victor Creed.

"You gonna make me?" he asked.

Maybe he wanted me to pop the claws; after all, it's not as if I could kill him.

No, what I could do to him without so much as lifting a finger was much, much worse?

"Make you? All ah have to do is scream for help. Not somethin' I could have done when ah was with the Brotherhood. I told my step-mama all about you, what you done to me an' all she did was laugh. It's not right, Victor."

"Awww, me and Mystique are old news."

"And so are we, Victor. Old news. Do you know how long it took me to get over what you done to me, you big, mean, evil son of a bitch? Two years, Creed!"

Now I was starting to get angry, but that's alright.

Victor likes it when I'm angry.

You know, it really wasn't right, it wasn't right at all.

I was barely legal, and Victor was close to a hundred, and he had once been my stepmother's lover, and he was Sabretooth, for God's sake, and I was a virgin, literally untouched by the hands of man.

It may not have been right, but I have to tell you the truth.

I was evasive when Logan asked me if there had ever been anything between me and Sabretooth, and I may try to make it sound like I was unwilling, but those are lies.

Damned lies.

Because Victor did not come to my bed and rape me, or seduce me with callous force and brutality.

No, it was a slow kind of seduction where he led me further and further down the path towards what I really wanted from him, so gradually that I never had the time to really think about whether it was right or wrong.

Victor Creed was to me kind of what Eddie Blake was to Liv Napier.

I knew that I wanted him, I knew I could have him, and I told myself a lot of things along the way to make it alright.

It's alright, I only let him touch me.

It's alright, I only touched him.

It's alright, all he did was put his mouth on me.

It's alright, all I did was put my mouth on him.

It's alright, we only had sex that one time, it's alright we only get it on once a week.

It's alright, it's alright if we make love every night, it's alright if we fuck all night long.

it's alright because he's big, and strong and bad and blond, and I want him; he's my Beast and I'm his Beauty, he's my lion.

It's alright because it has to be alright.

Because he's the Devil I know, because I know that Victor isn't going to hurt me, and that I'm not going to hurt him.

Because Victor calls most women frail, but he never called me that.

Because he was the man who taught me how to survive.

Because he was the man who taught me how to kill.

Because, God help me, I used to love to fuck him.

I love the way he purrs like a big cat, and winds his hands around in my hair while I'm sucking his cock. I love the way his slightly rough tongue feels when he's licking me, the way he never sinks his teeth into me although he could, I love having his big, leonine, muscular body between my legs, on top of me, I love the way it feels when he's inside me, he's big, but I like that.

I like it, like it, yes I do.

Rape?

If Vic decided he didn't want me, anymore, I would have raped him.

That's why I hated him so much, just then.

Because he was only thing from my old life that I really missed, that I still sometimes felt I could never get used to being without.

Life without Victor was very much like a night without stars.

And now that he was in my life again, the night was as bright as day.

"What? What the fuck did you just say to me? After every fuckin' thing I did for you? Don't you talk to me like that! There's nobody here but me to hear your mouth, don't you fucking dare!"

Victor was starting to get angry, but that's alright.

I like Victor when he's angry.

And he was just getting started.

"Goddamn you, ya little bitch! I'm not my goddamn sentimental asshole brother who goes goofy over every third frail he lays cock to! You know that! An' Raven, she was your mother like a fuckin cuckoo lays eggs in another bird's nest! She was all fuckin' done with you, ya know! You woulda been either on your ass or dead if I hadn't fuckin' stepped in! You oughta fucking know If I come back to a woman, that means she's got something I want. Something I need. I don't let what I need get past me, and I sure as fuck don't ever let go of somethin' I want! You think you can just say thanks, and go? Lemme tell you somethin', baby. You're mine. When I mark you, you're mine until I kill you, because anybody else who tries, they won't live long enough to try it twice! So, don't you dare fuckin' talk to me like you're not my girl when you're not puttin' it on for those cocksuckers! I could give less of a shit what you fuckin' do or don't fuckin' do with alla these goddamn boys. Because you and I know you're mine. Mine! Did you fuckin' think I was gonna let you forget that? The fuckin' hell I will!"

Victor was right by the bed now, looming over me, snarling his words like an angry lion.

But I was still mad.

"Victor, you don't understand! Do you think it's easy to be me? You have other women. Forget about you? That's my fucking problem, Victor. I can't forget you. Not even for a day, and especially not at night. Maybe, maybe if I could have other men it would have been easy for me to forget you. But I don't have that luxury. No, I take that back. I could have slept with your brother. But, not only am I a lady, who wouldn't do such a thing, I know that would hurt and humiliate you. And besides, you son of a bitch, you're goddamn right you put your mark on me! It's you I want, Victor. It's you. Do you know what that's like? Because I like it here. I believe in Charles' vision. Your brother's been good to me; he's really made me feel like this is my home. I have tried so hard. But I've had two years of treadin' the upward path, of puttin' aside my wicked ways. Two years of nice, quiet, celibate affairs with goddamn boys. Two years lyin' in this cold bed, between these cold sheets, tryin' to forget that once upon a time I had a man that my touch didn't hurt an' couldn't kill! I just about forgot, an' now you're gonna come back, here, for a couple of months, and ring all my bells, and bring it all back again, and then tip your fucking hat and five me a falsh of fang and go! The hell you are, Vic! We are like Beauty and the Beast, like you always used to say, but I'm the Beast, not you. And when you leave me, this time, I will pine away and die!"

Victor smiled; his anger seemed to evaporate.

"Is that what kinda bee you got in your bonnet, baby? Shit, that's no trouble at all. Don't be so dramatic. Jesus, I forget how young you are. You really don't know how things are, do you? You know what the difference is between the bad guys and the good guys? The color of their uniforms and who signs their paycheck. Look at me an' Jimmy? How different are we? Not as much as he likes to think You've got to know both of us. We had different mothers, but our Pa is our Pa. An' I practically raised that little shit after Pa had to go on the lam for about ten years. We ate at the same table, and we worked side by side an' fought side by side. He's my fucking brother, you understand that? Besides, listen, baby, whether I stay with the White Hats or put the Black Hat back on, nobody in this business cares what you do in the dark as long as it never sees the light of day. What I'm gettin' at is, there's no reason after I leave here that you an' me gotta say goodbye. I just got done tellin' you, Stripe, you're mine. There ain't no goodbye."

Do you know I had never thought of that?

Because I'm a lady.

Jesus Christ.

"You never thought of that?"

"I hate you, Victor! I hate you so much right now! If that's the way it is, where the fuck were you for two years?"

"I hadda let you get yourself set up as one of the White Hats, didn't I? An' I was around. Here an' there. You had your nose in the air, didn't you?" he chuckled.

"It's not funny! I never stopped thinking about you! Never!"

"Hey, baby, trust me, you were never far from my mind. For one think, I like a mask broad. Things work out better. For another, there was always somethin' about you, Stripe. You were never just another fuckin' frail. I could smell it on you, even after Raven decide she was tired of you. Maybe it is that you're a genuine lady. Maybe it's how well you learned to live, how you learned to kill. Not to mention, it don't hurt when you touch me. It just sorta tingles a little. In a good way. Especially on my cock. That's real nice, baby. Sometimes I think about how you never close your eyes while you're suckin' my dick, you just look up at me with this look of misty-eyed pleasure on your face, like I could take all day to come and you wouldn't give a shit. I miss that."

You know what that look is, Victor?

It's gratitude.

God save me.

And lust.

God save you.

Well, I had to go through the motion of getting out of bed and trying to slap him, and all I had on was a tank top and panties.

"You dirty son of a bitch!"

Victor took the opportunity to haul me into his arms.

"Yeah, I am. An' you love it."

I suppose his whole body was tingling all over, because mine sure as hell was.

I smacked him anyway.

"Hey. No rough stuff, Stripe. That's for business."

"No. That's for leaving me twist in the wind for two years!"

"Two years, huh? That's a long time for a hot-blooded little thing like you, ain't it, sweetheart? I guess I'm gonna be feelin this in the morning. Now tell me the truth, in your voice all honeysuckle an' magnolias. You don't really wanna smack me, do you, baby?"

"No, Sugah. I don't."

"So, ya really missed me, huh?"

"You're about to find out how much."

Victor laughed, and he smiled at me in a way that made my knees turn to water.

"Ya know what? I think you're wearin' too many clothes for this party."

Victor extended one claw, and sliced off the offending garments.

In that moment, I was lost.

"Now that's more like it."

He strutted over to my bed like he owned the world, and took his time getting undressed before he lay down.

"I think it's about time for me ta see that look on your face, again, ain't it, Stripe?"

"Oh, no, sugah. Time for me to teach you to be a gentleman. Ladies first."

Victor laughed.

"What year was it I met you in, baby?"

"Sixty-nine?"

"Good idea."

You know all those songs about doing it all night long?

Well, have you ever actually done it all night long?

Now, have you ever actually done it al night long with a feral mutant?

Or a woman who hasn't touched a man in two years?

I suppose I don't have to tell you that we were tired.

I slept through breakfast.

So did Victor, but Logan was probably the only one who noticed that.

When lunchtime came around, and I was still AWOL, Scott came to my room to check on me.

Victor doesn't lock doors.

He doesn't care if people know what he does.

I woke up because it was a bright, sunshiny day, and when Scott opened the door he let the day in.

For once, I woke up smiling, and still half-asleep, I couldn't figure out why Scott had an expression of shock, and perhaps even horror on his face, until I heard a growl coming from beside me, and felt Victor tighten his grasp.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at, Scooter?" he snarled.

"It's alright, Vic. I imagine he came to wake me because we've slept in."

When you are a lady, a Southern lady, you learn to be poised and gracious under any circumstance.

Even when your boss catches you asleep till noon, naked in the arms of a feral mutant who is almost as low in his estimation as Magneto.

Poor Scott.

I could see he was looking around the room for a rape to have happened, but the way I was just lying lazily in Sabretooth's arms, and the way my words and the hand I gently put on his chest seemed to dull Victor's anger, that hope vanished.

Clearly, I had consented to my ravishing.

Perhaps just as clearly, not for the first time.

"Huh? Fuck that shit, I never sleep in."

Victor grabbed my alarm clock.

"Jesus Holy Shit Christ, Stripe, it's almost lunchtime! Shit! Oooo, fuck, my back. Lemme tellya Scooter, this morning, I feel like I'm a hundred. One side, I really gotta piss."

He picked his boxers up off the floor, put them on, and pushed his way out the door past Scottl

On his way down the hallway, I saw Victor pound on Logan's door.

"Rise an' crawl, Jimmy! Grub's onna table."

"You eat mine, Vic. I'm dead." Came the muffled reply.

Then, Logan staggered out of his bedroom.

"Jesus Jumpin' Goddam Christ, what a fuckin' night. Most people take three bullets in the chest, it slows them down. Not Napalm. Why do you look so fuckin' short, asshole?"

"Fuck you, stumpy. It's because I can't stand up straight, runt. If I could get my spine ta crack…"

"You mean like this?"

CRAAAAAACK!

"OWWW! MOTHERFUCKER, THAT HURT!"

"So? You're standin' up straight, now, ain'y you, Vic."

"Yeah, yeah. You look like I feel, Jimmy."

"I hope not."

Napalm strolled out of Logan's room, looking as lazy and happy and chipper as I did, whistling as she leered at Scott and jauntily zipped her fly.

"Good afternoon' Scooter Pie."

She pushed past the sons of Black Tom Logan.

"One side there, old timers. I'm starving this mornin', God damn!"

Eventually, it was just me and Scott, standing in the doorway.

"Victor and I became acquainted when we were both with the Brotherhood. I won't be indiscreet." I explained.

Scott was trying to regain his composure.

"Well, Rogue, that's your personal business. As long as it doesn't carry over into your work, I have nothing to say."

Of course he had nothing to say.

He's sleeping with the White Queen of the Hellfire Club once a week.

Downstairs, Victor and Logan were sitting as far from each other as they could, lunch was in progress and Napalm was on the phone.

"…an' I got these huge bruises all over my chest, Eddie. I woke up this morning and forgot I got shot last night an' started yellin' at Logan…yeah, I'm gonna have Hank check me out…well you can't kill the asshole a second time, I left him there about as dead as he was ever gonna get…what, I hafta have you babysit me every time I put on the suit? Fuck you, Eddie…yeah, yeah, yeah…okay, I will, I promise…What the hell?"

Beast was looking at the bruise you could see.

"That looks like the rest of the week off to me."

"I know you heard that, Eddie. Right after I eat. Okay, I will. Sure I will. No, fuck that shit, I'll just be on top. Fuck yeah, everybody heard me. You want me to say it louder…because I'll make a fuckin' formal announcement. Whaddya want me to do, Eddie? Get a tattoo on my hip with an arrow that says "Eddie Blake was here. You ain't a patch on his ass?"…huh….okay…nothin'…he's behavin' himself…yeah, well, it's better to have the real sons of bitches on your side than on the other side…okay. You gonna take good care of me, boss…I thought so…yeah, I'll see youse tonight."

She hung up.

Just like I usually do on Wednesdays, I sat with Jean and Napalm.

I never miss Napalm's Funny Dirty Story of the Week.

"Listen to dis one, Jean. You ain't gonna believe dis one. So I'm in my office at NYU, and I've been up two nights straight, between woik and the lab. Ya know how it is during the full moon. So I had like t'ree, four hours until my next class ta teach, so I pulled down the Murphy bed, an' I just got down to my shorts and undershoit, an' as soon as my head hidda pillow, boom, I was out. So who shows up but Tony? I mean how does he get into my office? Pick the lock? How does he know I'm in bed, in my undaweah? I wake up, he's in bed with me, an' he's naked, an' he's woikin on gettin' me naked. So I ask him, yunno, Tony, what the fuck. An' he says, yunno, he wants ta surprise me. Says I ain;t spontaneous enough. Well, lemme tellya, I'm surprised. I'm surprised he didn't lock the door. Pete Parker comes in, an, here's the funny part. Dis is how well Pete knows me, after a year of bein' my assistant. He puts the papers down on my desk, reminds me that I got class at four, says "Ooops" and leaves. I got him trained. Anyway, Pete locks the door. So I'm locked in with Tony. Who's feelin' spontaneous. Now, this is where it starts ta get good…."