Scent of Prey
I'm not really sure where this one comes from, but the Roctor idea is really getting to me, so expect some serious Victor/Rogue action. All the disclaimers apply I don't own them, wish I did.
Chapter 1
Victor never thought about it much, why one frail wouldn't even spark an interest while another would have him insane for blood and fear and sex. His paid kills he didn't care so much, but when he was hunting for his own pleasure, some frails just caught his attention. At least it never crossed his mind until he scented the frail with the skin. She didn't just smell like prey, she smelled like a seven course dinner with dessert. If the runt hadn't been there the first time he got a good scent of her, Magneto would have had to power his own damned machine.
By the time they grabbed her at the train station he'd prepared himself for her scent, but still had insisted that Toad carry her or he'd lose control. Having her on the island kept him pacing the entire night thinking of a million ways to get around her skin and do the things he wanted to do to her soft, frail body. It hadn't helped that she stank of fear the whole time, and he'd had to guard her, and keep Toad from doing what he was wanting to do himself.
The boat was worse, she was terrified, but still brave, he'd had to keep from laughing at her repartee with Mags, and been punished by having to be the one to put her in the machine. She smelled so sweet, her blood pounding in her veins, the smell of her fear making his cock throb as she cringed while he cuffed her to the machine. He was in agony by the time she was secure, and he'd stepped back, knowing she could see him as he grinned at her, and unfastened his pants.
"Can't do what I want, frail, don't mean you can't watch while I take care of what you do to me." He'd growled at her as he started stroking his cock, her eyes wide, her fear filling the air as she watched him. He knew stark terror when he smelled it and it was completely arousing to him, and the fact that she couldn't take her eyes off of him, and he could smell her getting aroused at the same time just made it perfect for him to shoot his cum onto the deck of the boat. He wiped himself and put his cock away, he noticed a drop on the tip of his claw. He walked back into the machine and used her scarf to grab her jaw, forcing her mouth open as he wiped that drop on her tongue and lips.
"Someday, if you survive this, you'll get more of that." He whispered as he slammed the door of the machine. He heard her retching and gagging and just laughed as he walked away.
The problem was, there was something. He winced as she cried for help, and part of him wanted to go and rip her out of there. She was HIS, not Magneto's she should be screaming...under him, bleeding under him, and with that power of hers he could keep her alive a LONG time...he might actually be fully sated before she died. He winced at that thought, just as the runt broke free, and he had other things to think about. And then he was falling one hundred feet through a boat to the bottom of the river, and his eyes never left her, trapped in that machine.
It took him hours to heal enough to climb out of the river, soaking wet and feeling completely lost, he didn't understand it. He was fine, a little sore and soaked, but he was just fine. He went looking for someplace to snag some dry clothes and maybe a piece of frail to deal with the frustration, and that was when it hit him. He could smell frails, but none of them even smelled appetizing. As a matter of fact, their scents made him nauseas. He found some clothes drying on a line and grabbed some jeans that looked like they'd fit, and a short sleeved shirt. None of the long sleeved ones looked like they'd fit. He kicked off his wet boots and wiggled his toes in the dirt, claws digging in like he hadn't allowed himself to do in a while.
He wrapped his wet things in his fur cloak and secured it to his back with straps he'd built in for just this purpose. He could feel the water seeping into his back but he didn't have a whole lot of choice, at least he just looked like a guy with a backpack if no one looked too close. He found a bathroom at a closed gas station and used his claws to sheer his hair off short. He couldn't afford to be recognized as the guy that fell off the statue. He had a razor in his wet leather pants and used it to razor cut himself a decent crew cut. It would grow out again, and right now he needed to change his look. He used it to trim his eyebrows back to a human length, and remove his muttonchops. He looked better than he had in twenty years, and somehow he knew he was going to have to hide for a while, and he wanted to make sure the frail survived the machine.
She was his, he'd made that decision, and nothing, certainly not his runt of a brother, was going to keep him away from what was his. He carefully made sure every piece of hair fell into the trash can liner, and gathered it up with him and tucked it in his still sodden 'backpack.' After Stryker, he learned to never leave a piece of him laying around, you never knew who'd get their hands on your DNA.
He slipped out of the bathroom and looked around. There wasn't anyone around, so he ripped up one of the lids to the fill tanks and took a hand full of paper towels, making sure they stayed connected and rolled them together into a short fuse. He tucked one end under the lid of the storage tank, and lit the other end. He could smell the fumes escaping the tank and knew the station would go up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, just in case he'd left any DNA laying around. Half filled tanks like that were dangerous, especially if someone knew how to open the pressure lid and let air in - and fumes out.
He took off running and ducked around the corner of a large brick building as he heard the first small explosion, just the escaped fumes this time, but he knew he had about a minute to a minute and a half to get someplace where the blast wave wouldn't hit him when the main tanks exploded. He took off at a trot, there were enough buildings around that they would blunt the blast wave as long as he ducked behind one in time.
Three days later he settled down in a cheap motel. He wanted to make sure she survived, and then he was going to take off. He knew that he needed to get away from her, away from her scent as fast as he could before he lost complete control. He didn't want things to be too quick, he wanted to have the time to enjoy her and he knew if he didn't plan it carefully he'd end up having to rush it. He spent most of his time watching the local news, and keeping close watch on the school.
Four days into his watch he saw her, for just a moment, on one of the porches of the damned mansion, but that was enough. She was alive, and, for now, safely out of reach, so he gave up his watch, stole a motorcycle from a local bar, and took off for parts unknown.