AN: So finally the fic lives up to the rating! In this chapter, Rogue confronts Magneto and learns that sometimes, hate can turn into something else entirely. Please do be aware that there is a strong sexual dominance and submission element to this chapter, so if this is something that bothers you, you may not like this chapter. As always, my thanks to Nevacaruso for an amazing beta (do go read her stories--love her LanceXKitty, as it so deserves love!) and to y'all for reading!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 9

Rogue took a deep breath before she knocked on the heavy oak door, unable to believe what she was about to do. It was absurd, really, but she'd run out of ideas.

She'd had the conversation with Jean a few nights ago about how she needed to "learn to work with Magneto" and that "if the Professor trusts him, Rogue, you should too." It hadn't done anything except anger Rogue that she was being reprimanded for having problems training with a man who had tried to kill her.

"Jean, can you tell me you honestly trust him?" Rogue had demanded, convinced that Jean couldn't be that naïve. She had to think for herself, didn't she? Jean always struck Rogue as being fairly independent if not a little too straight-laced, but surely she didn't believe everything the Professor said as gospel truth?

Except that it seemed she did. "I trust the Professor," Jean repeated firmly, like it was some demented mantra that repeating would keep bad things from happening. "Rogue, I'm serious. This is causing problems with the team. You're just going to have to find a way to work with him."

Rogue had mumbled, "Fine," in response and marched off to her room, seething the entire way.

That night as she'd tried to fall asleep, she had thought about what Jean had said. It seemed impossible. How was she supposed to trust Magneto wasn't there to do something awful to all of them? If there was just some way she could know for sure….

Wait. There is. I ain't a telepath, but I'm as good as one if I can get a hold of his bare skin.

A few moments after her knock, the door swung open its own--showoff--and a deep voice came from the darkness within. "Yes?"

Rogue swallowed, trying to think of what to say. She kept coming up blank, which wasn't like her.

"Is someone there?" The voice grew closer as he approached.

"Yeah. Me," Rogue said, wincing at the rather threatening sound of her own voice.

Magneto appeared at the door, giving her a curious look. "I must admit I would not have expected to see you here."

"Can I come in?" Rogue asked, rather rudely, but only because she didn't want anyone to see her standing in the hallway outside of his bedroom. Can I come in and use my mutant powers on you?

Magneto raised a brow but stepped aside, allowing her entrance. "If you wish, though I hardly think this is proper."

"Do you really care?" she asked him, eyeing him warily as she looked around his bedroom. There was very little there to suggest someone lived in it, least of all him. What were you expecting, metal furniture?

He shrugged and gave her his shark's smile, the one that made her want to attack him with her bare hands for no other reason than to wipe it off his face. "Not particularly, no." The door slammed shut behind him.

Rogue took a deep breath, stilling her growing anger. "I've been given this lecture 'bout how I'm supposed to trust you," she said, glaring at him, her body language clearly displaying her displeasure.

"Ah, yes. I've been told I should try harder to understand your fear of me," he responded, watching her with hooded eyes. He was attempting to lean casually against the wall, but there was nothing relaxed about his posture.

"I ain't afraid of you," she snapped immediately, narrowing her eyes at him. Her hands were on her hips, her chin tilted defiantly.

"Oh, you aren't?" He took a step towards her. "Perhaps I'm not trying hard enough, then."

Rogue rolled her eyes, refusing to give in to his intimidation as he approached her with lazy, graceful movements.

They were standing very close to each other again. He looked down at her with an imperious expression. "Why are you here, Rogue?"

"I figured out a way I might be able to stop wantin' to kill you," she said bluntly.

He gave her a very disbelieving look. "I doubt that."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed, though she couldn't really argue with him. "All right, then. Not kill you, but at least…look, I ain't so good with trusting people. I just need to know you ain't here to—" at the sound of annoyance he made, she stopped short. "What?"

"Are you incapable of speaking English correctly? It's not even my first language and I speak it far better than you do." The little smile on his face suggested he knew exactly how insulting his words were.

"I was wrong," Rogue said, trembling in anger. "There ain't no way it's ever gonna happen, me trustin' you. Forget I even showed up." She tried to move around him, but he moved with her, smoothly blocking her path.

"What was your idea, Rogue?"

"Get out of my way, Magneto," she hissed, her small body tense and poised for battle.

He smirked down at her. "Or what? You're a tiny little thing, aren't you? Perhaps you'll use those powers of yours on me and drain mine, and then we can duel with metal once again. Let's see—I have my helmet and a set of keys. Shall I be the gentleman and let you have the larger of the two objects? Do try not to destroy the helmet, it's the only one I have." He sounded completely unthreatened by the concept of fighting her.

"I really, really hate you," she snapped, angry at being so casually dismissed. "I want to leave. Now."

"After you tell me why you're here," he responded, his voice infuriatingly calm.

Rogue resisted the urge to stamp her foot in irritation. "I thought maybe I could see you didn't have any sneaky plans for takin' over the world again, or stealing things, or killing anyone."

Of course, she wasn't being quite honest with him. She'd actually expected him to refuse, thus proving he was plotting something he didn't want her to see. Then she could just go tell the Professor or Jean—who would telepathically know she wasn't lying—and then they would make Magneto leave once or for all.

Then they'll have to apologize for doubting me. What a nice, vindicating sort of thought.

He didn't refuse, though. Instead, he moved slowly forward with a menacing look on his face that actually did manage to frighten her. She wasn't afraid of him when he was in a temper, but that glacial coldness that slid into his gaze made her nervous. Hating herself for it, she backed up under his continued forward advance.

"You came here to touch me?" His voice was sinister-soft as he approached her, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from him. The way he'd said that sounded almost… obscene.

Her back hit the wall and she stifled a gasp. Slowly, her fingers pulled at the fingers of her glove on her right hand. Her heart was racing again, and she was reminded of the night in the kitchen when he'd backed her against the counter. "You get off on cornerin' women so they can't escape?" she demanded, fighting to keep the apprehension out of her voice.

He braced both of his arms against the wall on either side of her head, trapping her. "Do you really want to know what gets me off, Rogue?"

Her cheeks colored at that, and she shook her head slowly from side-to-side. "N-no." Heat suffused her body, curling warm and low in her stomach, even as she felt the cold prick of fear dance up and down her spine.

"Are you sure? You did ask." He bent his head slowly, his mouth next to her ear. "So touch me, if that's what you want to do."

She was very conscious of his body so close to hers. His scent was spicy and masculine, and not at all unpleasant, damn him. "You know all I gotta do is touch you, and big and strong as you are, I can drop you. I can do it, Magneto."

"Of that, I have no doubt," he purred, and she hated the roughened, dark caress of his voice against her ear. It reminded her of the slide of silk against her skin, one of her favorite sensations. "Go on, girl. If you want to know the truth of me, touch me." His mouth descended closer; she could feel the slightest brush of his lips against her ear. "I dare you."

Rogue dropped her glove to the floor, and then brought her bare hand up as if she was going to place it on his face. Instead of touching him, however, she slapped him as hard as she could. His head jerked back and she smiled fiercely at him, eyes glittering, pleased as she saw his fair skin mottled and red from her slap.

"That wasn't very nice of you," he hissed, grabbing her wrists with his hand and slamming them above her head. Rogue cried out in pain as they hit the wall behind her, her breath escaping in quick, rapid bursts.

He looked down at her, eyes glittering. "Perhaps this will work better." The skin-on-skin contact started the pull of her powers, sharp and hot like tiny dagger-pricks against her skin. She actually arched upwards as his power—and his mind—flowed into her, showing her flashes of memory in quick, rapid bursts.

Dinner with his children had not gone well. Wanda was upset, and Pietro was tense and unhappy. Flash of him walking home, angry and alone, comforted only by the hum of metal in the city around him. He didn't know what to do with either of them. He didn't know why he kept trying to do anything.

The thick shame of his failure with Apocalypse flowed like poison in his veins, but he was proud of his children for how they'd fought in that last battle. He had been horrified when he'd come to from Apocalypse's mind control and realized what had happened. The hesitancy with which he embraced them, these children he barely knew, the added stress of what he had to fight to protect.

He didn't want to live at Xavier's, but not because he hated the man. He hated his pacifism, hated that Charles couldn't see that now, more than ever, mutants needed to take their rightful place in the evolutionary scheme of things. Survival of the fittest….

Older memories of the camps, of being captive, of being hated for something he had no control over. Waking up muttering in a language that wasn't English, fingers twisted in the sheets. Remembering the sick taste of fear in his mouth, powerless to do anything, when they dragged his parents away.

He was trapped, as surely as he ever had been, in a house full of people who didn't see the truth, who would never see the truth, until it was too late. Xavier's children were too brainwashed by his old friend's dream of co-existence to accept that the real world wasn't a Danger Room simulation, where everyone walked away from the battle alive and whole. Maybe they had a hint of it, now, after Apocalypse, but they would never really know, not until it was too late…

His people would suffer, again. The humans would lock them up, they would be killed in droves all because of fear, and once again he was as useless as that little boy in the camps. Powerless.

And he hated that more than anything.

With a jolt she came back to herself, her mind racing. She was white faced, leaning against the wall as she took slow, deep breaths to make herself calm down.

"Has that answered your question, girl?" He nearly spat the words at her; she didn't blame him. She knew what an intrusion it was, to have someone know your innermost thoughts like that.

Rogue could feel metal calling out to her like a lover. Two floors beneath her, the chamber that housed Cerebro hummed quietly. She reached out to it with the metal-sense, let it slide around her like water. She couldn't answer him.

With two quick strides, he crossed the room and pinned her against the wall again, this time careful not to touch the bare skin of her arm. "Has it?"

"Let go of me," she hissed.

He pressed himself against her, and Rogue struggled against his dominance, fighting to get her wrists free from his grasp. "You'll just leave, when you've had enough," she snapped, twisting as she fought against him. "You're not here to be one of us. You're here because you don't know what else to do."

"A fact that I assure you Charles Xavier is well aware of," Magneto said tightly, not releasing her.

Rogue pulled her arms, trying to twist free. "You hate me," she said suddenly. "Don't you."

"No. I hate what you've let yourself become. Useless, when you could be so powerful." He stared down at her, his chill eyes predatory. "Don't you wish to use it, Rogue, your gift? You like the way it feels, don't you, even though it hurts…"

"I want to use it right now," she snapped, unable to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging what he said was correct. "Get off me!"

"No," he responded defiantly, tightening his hold even further.

Rogue stopped struggling, drowning beneath a wave of pure, unadulterated fury. How dare he…! They'd have to get rid of him after this, they would have to. She smiled sweetly at the thought, filled with a malicious sort of glee. "This make you feel less like a failure, Magneto? Pinnin' me to the wall? Does it make you feel like more of a man?"

"My girl, I don't think you will like the direction this conversation is headed," he said in a low, menacing voice, "and if you think insulting my pride will wound me, be warned. It will take a great deal more than that." He reached one hand out and drew it slowly down the streak of white in her hair. "You're more than welcome to try, if you wish."

Her entire focus narrowed to nothing but him as she stilled, girding herself to fight him off of her. She would, if nothing else, press her face to his bare skin to dislodge him. She tried to twist her leg behind his, to do a move Logan had showed them all in self-defense class, but he stepped quickly to deflect the motion.

"Now, now. If you want to get me away from you, Rogue, use the gifts you've been given. Go on," he urged her in a silky voice. "No need to fight me with fists when your pretty skin will do the job just fine."

"It's more satisfyin' to put you on your ass without it," Rogue bit out, frustrated as he sifted again so she couldn't move.

"Too bad for you," he answered smugly. "It's the only thing that will work."

Rogue made a sound like a growl, rearing up, deciding she just needed to get away and go see the Professor so she could get this psychopath away from her. He looked vaguely triumphant as she did so, and as she forced herself closer to him. As she did, she felt something very insistent and hard pressed against her, and her gaze snapped upwards to lock with his.

Push him away, Rogue, now!

She didn't, though. She stood rooted to the floor, staring at him with absolute confusion, unsure what to say. He released her hands, and she lowered them from above her head and stared at his glittering grey eyes as the fury between them was transmuted into something else entirely, something she was powerless to fight against. Slowly she moved her hands to his shoulders; a sign of consent, though she wasn't sure exactly for what.

Before she could say anything, his hands grasped her hips and he hauled her up and against him, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist so she didn't fall, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt. He shoved her back against the wall again, but she didn't care, and she was breathing so fast she thought she might faint.

He shoved her skirt up her waist, hands sliding up the inside of her thighs, covered with her nylon bodystocking. She could feel the heat of his palms burning her skin through the thin material. He looked up at her, obviously waiting for some sign that he should continue.

Her legs tightened instinctively as she pushed her hips against him hesitantly, trying to find the perfect angle to ease the growing ache between her thighs. Frustrated, she squirmed against him, careful to keep her exposed skin from touching his. The look she gave him was a cross between a challenge and demand.

He gave a low laugh and shifted slightly so that his hardened erection was sliding against her just where it should, against the rough nylon and soft satin of her panties. "Again," he urged her, and she couldn't help but obey and slide herself against him like he wanted, and this time it was right and Oh God….

They moved together in a frenzy, his hands bruising on her hips, her legs squeezing him as she bucked herself against his cock. Nothing had ever felt like this in her entire life, so hot and urgent and desperate, as if she'd die if he stopped it—

The pressure of his hands on her hips was painful, the scratch of his trousers between her legs was chafing and she was biting her lower lip between her teeth hard enough to draw blood. She could have cared less about any of it, though, and she vaguely realized the high, keening noise she heard was coming from her.

"Good girl, you want to come, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. He took the flesh there between his teeth and nipped sharply, not enough for her powers to start, but enough for the pain to rush like lightening down her spine.

"I hate you," she moaned, twisting her hands in the fabric of his shirt. Her hips bucked again, insistent, as she trembled in his grasp. Why did she want this, why did she think she'd die if it stopped…

"Say yes, or I'll stop…" The next thrust of his hips was harder still; Rogue didn't know if he meant it, about stopping, but she didn't want to take the chance. He dragged her harder against him, and she fixed him with a heated glare. "Rogue…"

"Yes," she moaned, hating him, wanting him, wanting release so badly she could taste it. "Yes…God, please…"

He gave another dark laugh and moved her faster against him, and when the pressure finally broke Rogue threw her head back, hitting against the wall, and white lights sparked behind her closed eyes from both intense pleasure and biting pain. She dimly heard him groan and buck one last time against her as he came.

They remained pressed together for a few moments longer, and then they pulled away almost instantaneously. Rogue stared at him, her entire body shaking in the aftermath of what had just happened.

His hair was mussed—had she grabbed it, there at the end?—and his cheekbones were stained with color. His eyes looked fierce and hot, and she was viciously pleased to see his breathing was as unsteady as hers.

Rogue drew a shaking hand through her hair, then slowly bent down to retrieve her fallen glove. She felt warm and sticky between her thighs, but she'd never in her life felt so…satisfied, replete. Because of him. Shaking, she pulled her skirt down, and the slide of her fingers against her nylon-covered skin was a delicious sensation.

Oh, what had she done? With Magneto, of all people?

He must have seen the look on her face, because he took a tentative step towards her. "Rogue…" It was the slightly concerned tone of voice, something she'd never heard from him, that pushed her past her limit of endurance.

She turned and fled from his room, knowing it was cowardly but unable to care. She ran to her room and went straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping her clothes off in a hurry. She leaned against the tile of the shower, hating herself for the hot, delicious throb that accompanied the memory of what she'd just done.

Good girl…

Why, why had that been the very best part? The part that made her want to go back, knock on his door, make him do it again…harder, this time, make him pull her hair and bite her neck and…

No. Never again. It can never, ever happen again.

Now, if she could only make herself believe it—or better yet, if she could make herself want to believe it….

-------------------------------------------

Nercia Genesis: Hope you like this "Rogneto" chapter! Haha! I can't believe I just wrote that!

Miss Information: Glad to have you back! Wasn't so long ago I was a student myself, so no worries. Just glad to hear you are still enjoying the tale. I do wonder how the kids will react to dear old dad with Rogue, but Magneto and Rogue both are so confused about what just happened that such revelations may be a while in coming! (I swear I don't mean that to be a bad pun). Wanda and her memories...I have an eeeevil (see me rub my hands together in Evil Overlord Glee) plan for that, don't you worry. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Lynx16: Why thank you! I'm glad my characters resonate and work for you. I don't know that this was Rogue trying to kill Magneto like you wanted to see, but hopefully it was close enough? Hee!

Swamp Rat's Cherie: Ah, yes. Poor Rogue doesn't know quite what to think of Magneto at the moment. I think the feeling is mutual! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Nettlez: Yes, indeed, that is going to be a tricky situation! I think it's funny that even with "altered" memories, Wanda is far from "nice". Thanks for reading!