Chapter 4: Sting/Future Rogue "From the Future"
A/N: Requested by raioseucliffe. I was originally planning this to be mostly smut, but a ton of angst happened too, and then I had to give it a happy ending. Thus it's quite long...
I write agender Frosch (they/their/them), according to the Japanese use of genderneutral classifiers for them.
(Spoilers for Daimatou Enbu Arc.) Canon AU. Mirai/Future Rogue goes in search of his predecessor to make sure he stays alive, but runs into a different Dragon Slayer instead.
Future Rogue flew across the cracked stone, cursing himself for not doing this sooner. Of course the dragons couldn't be trusted to make sure this timeline's Rogue stayed safe. He had to do it himself, dammit, even though he had important things he should be doing right now.
Sensing familiar magic around the next bend, he emerged from shadow into man and whipped around the corner, almost colliding with the Dragon Slayer.
Only it wasn't this timeline's Rogue Cheney, it was—
"Sting," Rogue gasped.
He felt like he'd been punched in the solar plexus staring at that familiar face, blue eyes that were always, even now, on the edge of smiling, frizz of hair exactly how he remembered it.
Sting's expression was surprise, but recognition too. Like he knew this wasn't his Shadow Dragon Slayer, but still knew it was Rogue somehow.
"H— Rogue?" Sting asked.
"Sting." It was the only word in Future Rogue's dictionary right now. As if he was a broken movie lacrima playing fragmented clips.
Trepidation slunk into Sting's eyes. Rogue tried to shake off the feelings assaulting him: his Sting was dead, this was not real—just past, just a memory. A walking, talking, breathing memory whose smell was surrounding him, more familiar than his own skin. Making his heart race.
It was just surprise; that was all. He would recover momentarily.
"Who are you?" Sting demanded as he slid subtly into a fighting stance. As if Rogue wouldn't notice.
"I'm from your future," Rogue said, shock making him honest.
Sting began to tremble. "Rogue…from the future?"
The White Dragon Slayer took a half-step toward him, hand reaching out then jerking back.
"Are we together in the future?" Sting asked.
Rogue gawked. Of course this would be the first fucking thing out of Sting's mouth. He'd forgotten what his partner was like: always a romantic first and foremost, logic coming second (or third or fourth or fifth… Future Rogue couldn't help a small smile at remembering).
"Where I come from, you're dead," Rogue said, voice more hollow than he meant it to be. He didn't add, I killed you. No need to ruin the moment.
Sting is standing in front of me…
"Oh. Okay." Sting swallowed. "Were we ever…?"
"Yes."
Sting's eyes glowed happily and Rogue felt a tiny piece of his nonexistent heart break open. Oh, Sting.
He shouldn't be feeling like this. Rogue came here to do battle, his dragons were fighting across the capitol, and his past self was still in danger. He was shadow nowadays, not human anymore: a purer form of power. No longer able to be hurt by anyone, because he was the darkness that crept into people's souls.
But Sting's presence was shining a light into his shadows like he always had. Trembling, Future Rogue was actually experiencing…weakness. For the first time in a long time.
Future Rogue had a wonderful and highly-distracting thought pop into his head. One last kiss?
These feelings moved through him in an instant, and in the next, Sting was asking, "Why are you here?"
Rogue paused.
"To protect my past self." And then, because he couldn't help himself, "Sting, I…would… I miss…"
Reading Rogue's mind like Sting always had, moving together like they always did, both men took a step forward, Sting grabbed Rogue's arms, and Rogue crashed against his mouth.
White fire burned through Rogue's body, consuming him the way only Sting could. They were a flurry of lips and tongues and breath, gloriously alive. Sting slipped an arm around his waist and drew Rogue in while Rogue cupped his face, trailing fingers over Sting's jaw.
This can't be real.
After six years of disuse, his walls against Sting weren't strong enough to keep the White Dragon out anymore. Instinct was throbbing through him telling him this was right: he belonged right here.
Sting's tongue slithered softly around his and Future Rogue stopped trying to fight.
Rogue cradled Frosch in one arm, the Exceed being injured—granted, it was minor, but Rogue still insisted on holding them.
There were dragons everywhere: this is what he, Rogue, existed for. He had to find Sting. It was unthinkable to do this without his partner, like trying to fight without breathing.
Following that warm, tangy scent, Rogue sped around a corner and there he saw Sting.
Kissing another man.
Rogue went slack. Only Frosch squirming kept Rogue from dropping them.
The astonishment curled darkly through his stomach as he watched Sting's grip on the man tighten. The man, who had quite handsome white and black hair trailing down his back, pressed into Sting, making a noise of desire, touching Sting in all the ways Rogue had always wanted to. Jealousy sprang to life.
He was on a battlefield with no time for this sort of thing, he knew, but it was that fact which fueled the strange feelings shifting in his chest. They had no time for this, and yet Sting had deemed kissing someone more important.
Sting had dated girls before and Rogue had never envied them like this. At the end of the day, he knew Sting would come home to him, sleep next to him, wake up with him. Sting's sexuality might be aimed at girls, but his closest relationship of all was with Rogue. Sting was his in the way that mattered.
Plus, there'd been those two times, late at night and with Sting more than a little tipsy… Technically Rogue had gotten to take Sting's virginity, and had gladly given Sting his own, first trading blow jobs, then a second time when Sting fucked him—
When Sting had fucked him. Drunk, because that's the only way Sting would have him, the only way Sting could stand it, apparently. Rogue facing away from him so Sting wouldn't have to look at his face. The face of a man who loved him.
Rogue was pathetic when it came to Sting. But he'd always kept it inside before now.
As far as Rogue had seen, Sting had never kissed any girls with as much passion as he was currently kissing the bastard in his arms. Sting's fingers trailing over the man's side, one hand in the man's long hair, kissing him with a look of utter satisfaction. Rogue snarled at the revulsion twisting his gut.
Maybe Rogue didn't know his twin as well as he'd thought.
He took several menacing steps forward, unable to stop himself. He was going to rip Sting away from his lover: dammit, they needed to fight dragons right now and Rogue couldn't do this alone. Later, Sting could run back to his boy and make out all he wanted, Rogue would try to move on. But not right now.
A dragon's growl ripped from his throat.
The two men whipped around. They dashed apart, possibly from embarrassment or possibly from the violence Rogue's expression promised.
But upon seeing them, Rogue froze. His anger swirled with confusion.
What the fuck?
Gods dammit, it was Rogue.
The real Rogue, the one Sting had known every day of his life, so it felt like. The one he was very quietly in love with. And who was now staring at Future Rogue with daggers in his eyes.
Sting could still taste Rogue's—Future Rogue's—lips. His heart was still pounding with excitement, but a gaping hole had opened up in his stomach.
"Who the hell is that, Sting?"
Sting felt their mutual trust shredding into threads, felt distant pain coursing through his heart. Sting was grateful Rogue still directed the question to him at least. A little bit of their relationship remained intact.
"This is you," he said as calmly as he could, breath like a whirlwind. "This is your future self: Rogue Cheney."
While Sting couldn't blame the disorientation on Rogue's face, he didn't understand the vicious fury there. Sting tried subconsciouly to massage out the ache in his chest; Rogue needed him right now.
"What," Rogue growled, turning his eyes onto his future, "did you do to Sting?"
"Hello, Rogue." Future Rogue smiled. "I've been looking for you."
Sniffing the air and tilting his head, Rogue narrowed his eyes.
"Why?"
"To make sure you stay alive." Future Rogue took a step forward. "If you die, I die."
"Right. Because you're me?" Rogue spat.
Sting was looking back and forth between them, wondering if he should intervene, but could you really step between a man and his self?
Another part of him held back due to a deeper fear, worried what Rogue thought about Sting kissing Future Rogue. It felt on some level the same as kissing Rogue himself.
Was that why Rogue was so furious—Sting had essentially just kissed him?
"I'm you seven years in the future," Future Rogue went on. "You're going to become me."
"If that's true," Rogue took a deep breath, "then why the hell do I sense Sting's magic in you?"
Rogue's shout made the other two take a step back. For a moment, shadows quivered around Future Rogue, but he stayed standing, fists at his side. Sting's Rogue was not so reticent: magic poured off him visibly.
"He…gave it to me." Future Rogue's pause didn't get past anyone. "My Sting is dead."
Rogue's face went white.
His disbelief was wiped away as he staggered and put his hands on his knees. The horror in Rogue's eyes mesmerized Sting. Rogue cared for his twin, naturally, but right now...the look on his face was a whole new level of protectiveness and devastation.
Gently laying Frosch on the ground (a move Future Rogue followed with hungry eyes), Rogue faced them slowly. He breath came in heavy pants.
"When?"
Future Rogue frowned at him.
"When will he die?!" Rogue bellowed.
Future Rogue's expression cleared, though a darkness still lingered in his eyes as he said, "You don't have to worry. You'll be fine."
Sting's mind whirled at that. His death must have something to do with the dragons, then, if that future were already changed. Perhaps Future Rogue had come here both to protect himself and stop whatever triggered Sting's death.
For some reason, he was less concerned with his mortality than he was with Rogue's current emotional state.
But then Rogue's intense gaze pinned on Sting, who found his pulse speeding up as their eyes met. Dear gods, fighting a dragon would be a lot less complicated right now.
"Why were you kissing him?" Rogue asked coldly.
"I—" Future Rogue began.
"I wasn't asking you."
Sting glanced between the two Rogues. One with black hair, one half white. One with a small scar across his face, the other missing an eye. One glaring furiously, the other who apparently had loved Sting. It was clear so much had changed between one and the other, but at their core they were the same. Both staring at him with expectant red eyes.
"You fall in love with men now?" Rogue asked, angry.
"No," Sting said, finding his voice. "No, Rogue. Just you."
Everything in Sting's insides stilled. The truth.
To his surprise, Rogue looked livid.
"Really, Sting? Why didn't you say anything? Ask me out? I would've said yes. You never even asked me what I thought!"
Sting choked, the floor disappearing under him. He was sure he was falling. He felt Future Rogue's gaze sweeping back and forth between them: how odd this must be for him.
"Why the hell were you all over him, Sting?" Rogue waved a scornful hand at Future Rogue. "Why were you kissing him when you could be kissing me?"
"I-I don't know," Sting stammered. He hadn't really thought about it: the man had smelled like Rogue and looked like Rogue, so when he leaned in, wanting, of course Sting kissed him. Rogue had never expressed interest in kissing him before. "I guess I thought it was the same thing."
"Baka," Rogue rumbled. He shook his head, staring up at the sky. "I don't know what to think right now. Fuck. I'm going to go fight dragons. It's what we should be doing."
"Wait!" Sting and Future Rogue leapt for him at once, but Rogue's pained glare made Sting stop and grab Future Rogue's elbow.
"We'll talk about it later, Sting." Rogue choked, glancing at Future Rogue. "Frosch, c'mon."
As Rogue turned and walked away through the rubble, Sting could feel Future Rogue straining against his hand, wanting to go after his past. Sting knew better than anyone the Shadow Dragon Slayer needed time alone. Rogue was a loner, a thinker. He'd come back eventually, when he was ready.
For now, Sting just hoped his own insides didn't break open.
When Future Rogue began to swirl with darkness, Sting swung him around and dove into his mouth. Moaning, Future Rogue stayed corporeal and moved instantly into Sting's arms.
Fuck. He tasted so good.
Sting groaned, running his hands over every part of Future Rogue he could reach. This Rogue liked him. This Rogue wanted to kiss him. This Rogue made him believe things could happen.
"I want to know what he likes," Sting muttered, breathless. "What you like, Rogue. Teach me what I do that you love most."
"I love when you fuck me," Future Rogue said at once, neck burning beneath Sting's lips.
Out of curiosity Sting bit his flushed skin, causing Rogue's fingers to dig into his side. It took Rogue a moment to go on.
"Shit…you—he let me face-fuck him. And he always did that to me," Rogue groaned as Sting bit him again.
"Show me."
"Fuck…right now?" Future Rogue panted.
In response, Sting slid his hands under the man's shirt.
"Rogue," he whispered, the word falling so light and effortless. He wanted to do this to Rogue over and over. Forever. This might be the only chance he got.
Sting's stomach twisted. He wanted to be showing Rogue how much he loved him, but if this future version were the best the universe could do, fuck him if he was going to pass this up. For these desperate minutes, Rogue could be his: he moaned into Sting's kiss and shivered at his touch.
Sting felt it the moment Future Rogue surrendered.
When Sting stripped Rogue's shirt off and attacked his face again, Rogue gasped and melted against him. Gods, it was too easy. Like Rogue was ready, like Rogue actually wanted him. Rogue wanted him.
Rogue's hands traveled over him like Sting was pre-mapped terrain, twisting his nipples and eliciting a satisfying grunt from Sting. Sting pulled his own top off, cupped Rogue's face, and kissed him hard, shoving Rogue up against a crumbling stone wall. Pushing his tongue into Rogue's mouth, he reveled in every little moan as he rubbed up against the Shadow Dragon, wanting to pleasure him in every way possible. They were both hard, long gone to each other's touches.
Sting's fingers tangled in Rogue's long hair, sweeping it from his face so Sting could kiss around his scarred eye. Rogue bit him, right on the throat, and his teeth were everything Sting had imagined.
When Sting started unfastening Rogue's belt, the latter was already grunting. "Oh, gods…"
Sting couldn't agree more, dropping Rogue's pants and feeling along his length with an eager hiss.
"Shit, Rogue, I forgot how big you are."
"Good thing I bottom," Rogue panted through a smile. "Fuck. It's almost like you've done this before."
"I have done this before," Sting said, stroking him harder.
"That's right…" A grin spread across Future Rogue's face. "We got drunk and decided it would be a good idea to be each other's first."
"You got drunk; I was pretending."
"I know." Rogue pulled him into another kiss. "I was pretending too."
Sting glowed, fire igniting in his chest. Faking? His brain tucked that away to assess—later.
Palming Rogue's balls, Sting kissed him fiercely then slid onto his knees.
Future Rogue was almost afraid his legs were going to give out as Sting took him in his mouth. It was everything he'd forgotten: heat and light and Sting's tongue curling around him while joy raced up his spine. Sting sucked the darkness out of him, filled him up with holy light.
Future Rogue's hand found its way into Sting's blonde hair of its own accord, getting lost in the tight curls, a texture he'd felt nowhere else. When Sting moaned around him and pressed against Rogue's palm, Rogue got the message and thrust into Sting's mouth.
The tight ridges of Sting's throat almost had him coming right there. Gods, it had been so long. Trembling with tense desire, he got a better hold on Sting's head and thrust into him, over and over, feeling the soft scrape of Sting's fangs, the pressure of his lips working Future Rogue's cock.
Breath coming in heavy puffs, Sting shut his eyes, cheeks hollowing as he relaxed in order not to choke. He was so beautiful. Rogue couldn't believe how much he'd missed this.
Rogue fucked Sting's mouth until the air twisted up in his lungs and his entire body went rigid. He shouted as he climaxed. Shoving deep, he came down Sting's throat, jolting with the pleasure of it, shuddering and losing all muscle tone to the warmth that washed through him.
Sting caught him before he could fall. As he pulled away from Future Rogue's spent cock, he licked his lips, swallowed experimentally around his abused throat, and stood up.
"How was that, Rogue?" he whispered gently, combing fingers through Future Rogue's hair. Rogue always loved when Sting touched his hair.
"S-Sting." The word was magic, a door that opened him up, showed him sides to himself he thought were buried. "It was amazing."
The White Dragon Slayer beamed with so much relief it hurt.
"My turn," Sting hummed, running soft hands over Future Rogue's thighs.
Rogue's answer was wanton. "Yesss, fuck me..."
Pressing him harder into the wall, Sting lifted one of Rogue's legs and held his fingers before Rogue's lips.
"Help me get you ready."
Rogue sucked his fingers eagerly and Sting reached down between his thighs and oh. Oh. It had been too long, Rogue keening as he relaxed and Sting pushed in. He forgot everything, about dragons or time or keeping his other self safe. All that existed was him and Sting.
"Nng, Sting," he whimpered, squeezing around Sting's second finger. When Sting scissored into him, he felt the pain of not doing this for so long, but eventually it transformed into familiar sensations, and then Sting found the right spot and Future Rogue cried out.
Sting's fingers leaving him prompted Rogue to open his eyes, finding the blonde wizard smiling shyly at him. "I guess I remember more than I thought."
"Sting…"
Future Rogue really was ineloquent tonight, dammit. That was what he got when his dead lover came back from the grave and fucked him in an alley.
Sting leaned in and kissed him, but pulled away suddenly.
"I don't have a condom. Wasn't expecting to do this, shit… Um, I'm clean."
"Me too. I've only ever been with you."
Sting gaped at him. Entranced, as if Future Rogue were magic. Those blue eyes were shining when he trailed a thumb over Future Rogue's lips. Their bodies were on pause while he took Rogue's mouth in the clearest show of I love you Rogue had ever experienced.
It was true of both of them, he knew: they'd only ever had sex with each other. Rogue found that out after they were dating. He made some offhand comment about Sting's experience and Sting had glared at him, growling that Rogue was his first and only partner. Sting could never manage to get past kissing with anyone else.
Speaking of, gods, Sting could kiss. Rogue was breathless under his lips, sucking Sting's tongue, feeling fangs sink into his lower lip.
Future Rogue gasped as Sting grabbed Rogue's thighs and slid his hot cock up Rogue's ass.
Sting took him slowly, savoring every centimeter, mouth open in a silent groan. Digging his trembling hands into Sting's shoulders, Rogue whimpered and welcomed him in, focused on relaxing. His head smacked the wall behind him, but Rogue couldn't care less.
They both breathed deep with Sting buried inside him. Sting let Rogue adjust, distracting him from the discomfort by licking down Rogue's throat and nipping at him sharply. As his moan rose several octaves, Future Rogue jolted around Sting's cock, which stretched him suddenly but also shot thrills straight up his body.
He tensed deliberately around Sting—tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed—until Sting was an absolute mess. Future Rogue grinned as the White Dragon quivered with the effort of not moving.
"You said you'd teach me?" Sting gasped.
The words were an uncomfortable reminder that Future Rogue did not belong to Sting. He was a mentor, instructor. But that was okay: Future Rogue did not belong in this timeline. Here, now, Sting and Rogue's past self still had acres of pleasure ahead of them before the darkness caught up. That was how it should be. It was part of what made him.
Feeling nostalgic now, Rogue directed Sting where to angle himself, how to hold him, and finally told him, "Fuck me hard, Sting. I always liked it when you were rough."
"Even in the beginning when we...when we first started dating?" Sting asked, panting with the strain of holding himself still. His cock must be aching by now.
"Always."
Releasing a pent-up breath, Sting dove into him. He crashed Rogue into the stone wall, savaging his lips with a kiss that was all teeth. As Sting pulled out and drove into him again, Rogue shouted in ecstasy.
Just. Like. That.
Sting's moans tumbling into the night were like an offering to the gods. Sting fucking into him, hitting him hard with pleasure while they joined into one beast—Future Rogue knew of nothing more holy than this.
He was too spent to come again, but that was okay. It was worth it to see Sting come undone, feeling the sudden liquid while he watched Sting's face screw up in orgasm. Sting was always expressive when he came.
Rogue kissed his open mouth, breathing in the overwhelming scent of the only person he'd ever wanted.
"Sting." Future Rogue's deep voice called him out of the haze.
Sting pressed his face into Future Rogue's neck. He didn't want to confront the world just yet. He wanted a few more minutes of blissful pretending.
"Sting." Rogue's tone was firm. "We should go."
Running preoccupied fingers through Rogue's hair, Sting huffed. "Rather stay here."
"Oh, honestly. Are you going to pout all night?"
That sounded like the Rogue Sting was used to. Straightening, Sting didn't loosen his grip on this future version of Rogue as he sighed.
"I fucked things up with him."
"No, you didn't." Future Rogue tossed his head. "I should know."
"Did you discover your Sting fucking your future self too?"
"No," Rogue amended, "but even if you really did screw things up, go and make it up to him. Fucking apologize, Sting. It's not like either of you are in love with anyone else."
Sting snorted. "You're awfully confident." For a guy who didn't live this future…
"You're best friends, do everything together, and share the same fucking room at night. Your magic is like a perfect compliment. Am I missing anything here? Stop being a drama queen. I have things to do besides talk you down."
"You never change." Sting laughed, meeting his eyes.
The ghost of a smile played over Future Rogue's face. "One of us has to be practical, and it sure as hell isn't you."
"Okay." Sting pulled back, scrutinizing Rogue one last time before breaking away to find his clothes. They dressed and then looked at each other in awkward silence. "I'm going to find my Rogue. Are you…?"
Future Rogue gave himself a little shake. "No. I have…dragons to attend to. You'll keep him safe for me."
Sting's heart floated. Rogue wasn't asking: he was acknowledging. Future Rogue knew Sting cared too much to let anything happen to him. "You can trust me."
They parted ways.
Hours later, when the gate was destroyed and Crocus lay wrecked and burning, Sting stood panting beside Rogue—his Rogue. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened with Future Rogue: some people were saying he'd orchestrated all this, but that couldn't be right. He had disappeared, that much was clear, and Sting was both relieved and broken.
His own Rogue held darkness in his expression, things curling unsaid through his thoughts. They hadn't said a word to each other. Finding him on the battlefield, Sting had skidded up to his side and they'd fought without any need for words. Because that's how they were.
Sting felt desperate at the idea of losing this perfect rhythm they had between them.
"Rogue, I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Rogue looked up at him, inscrutable. They were close enough Sting could've brushed the hair out of his face if he'd dared to touch him. But no matter what Future Rogue had said, he didn't feel worthy.
But Rogue didn't push him away or get angry: his fury had dissolved alongside Future Rogue's presence. Instead, he just looked tired.
"What I want to know," Rogue said.
"Is why I never said anything." Sting completed the sentence. "I didn't think you'd want me."
"Why would you ever think that?"
"I used to try to do things," Sting stammered, looking away. "But you were always pushing me at other people. You always asked what my dates thought or what girl I was going to ask out next. You tensed up when I tried to talk about serious things, remember? You only let me touch you when I pretended to be drunk."
"Pretended…?" Rogue stared at him. Anger still hadn't appeared in Rogue's face and Sting was feeling glints of hope.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because." Rogue looked away. "You always dated other people. Besides, I already had you. Because I'm stupid, I guess."
Sighing, Rogue closed his eyes, familiar exasperation crossing his face. Sting elicited that reaction from him daily, making him smile seeing it now.
"Instead of going off kissing someone who smells like me," Rogue said slowly, "just ask next time."
"Okay."
Sting paused. His nerves jumped. He'd fucked Rogue earlier; surely he could do this.
"Can I hold you?" Sting asked.
Rogue's red eyes flew wide. After a moment which stretched forever, Sting stiff as a pole, Rogue nodded.
Sting embraced him, seeking consolation, inhaling for the first time in too long. He'd hugged Rogue before, but this felt different after what had passed between him and Future Rogue. Or maybe it felt different because of the anger he'd seen in Rogue's eyes when Rogue thought he was taken. The fear when Rogue heard Sting would die. Revelations.
Rogue's arms circled around his waist and while Rogue didn't melt like his counterpart had, he wasn't stiff or resisting either. Sting leaned his head against Rogue's, super-hearing picking up Rogue's breath, his pulse, his shifting feet.
Sting murmured, "I don't want to date anyone else."
"Fuck," Rogue coughed, and Sting's stomach twisted like he was about to throw up. But Rogue went on, "If by that you mean you want to date me and only me, then yes, Sting. I'm done sharing you with other people."
Sting finally identified what the warble in Rogue's voice meant: Rogue was trying not to laugh.
"Did I ask that the wrong way?" he asked, a sheepish smile forming on his lips.
"Who cares?"
Happiness dripped through Sting's insides like fudge. If he'd thought Future Rogue was unreal, this felt even less believable.
Was it possible for two people to be as stupid as they were?
Sting rubbed Rogue's back, felt the heat of Rogue's very real body very really pressed in his arms, and grinned at the debris of the Eclipse Gate. Thank you.
"What happened after I left?" Rogue asked. "Or do I want to know?"
"He, uh… You taught me what you like," Sting said, cheeks burning.
Rogue looked both suspicious and intrigued. "Like what?"
"Like this."
Sting had to fight down his crashing pulse as he leaned forward and nibbled Rogue's neck. He heard a small gasp. Grazing the skin, he sank his teeth in, groaning in spite of himself at the flavor of his favorite scent.
He was tasting Rogue, and even though he'd tasted this earlier, this felt new and wonderful.
When Sting pulled away, Rogue didn't speak: the shadow mage was shaking, pressing closer to Sting so he wouldn't fall over. Sting ran his fingers over the red spot on Rogue's throat in awe. He'd done that to his Rogue.
"Do it again," Rogue whispered.
Fuck, Sting would do anything Rogue asked.
A/N: I clearly have a thing for biting. Sorry guys, it's not going away. ;D Especially with all the excellent potential of Dragon Slayer fangs…
I'm not remotely into one-true-love sorts of things, but I feel like with Sting and Rogue that's how it'd go down. They've just kinda been together since forever, grew out of the age of innocence together…there really wouldn't be anyone else who could get in on that action, ya know?
If anyone else has requests, feel free to comment. Full disclosure, there are some pairings I just can't. But others like this one I never would've thought of on my own.
