AN: In this chapter, we have Magneto brooding over what happened with Rogue, and then Rogue has a surprising admission that leads to further naughtiness. Strong D/S sexual overtones, please be advised. Thanks, as always, for reading!

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

Chapter 12

He had no idea what had possessed him, none at all.

The more Magneto thought about that strange incident with Rogue in his bedroom, the more he was convinced he needed to get out of Xavier's house, fast. In fact, he'd barely slept the night it had happened, half-expecting Charles to come barging in and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing before throwing him out.

Or worse.

The other half of him had been unable to get it out of his mind, how she had felt straddling his waist, how she'd writhed against him and—

Stop it. You have more control over yourself than this.

That was, in essence, the problem of the thing. He had felt in control with her, and wonderfully so. It had been a heady feeling—he'd felt like himself again, full of power and purpose. No longer something useless and impotent, like some human…

It was understandable from that angle, but the question of why her still remained foremost in his thoughts. He'd honestly been annoyed with her when she'd showed up—he had the same amount of disdain for her as she apparently did for him—and he'd shoved her back against the wall in a fury because she'd mocked him, treated him like he wasn't a threat—

Even now, it made his blood boil. That slip of a girl, to think she could take him down with some ridiculous self-defense move? To ignore the deadly gift that she'd been given in favor of some asinine, showy leg sweep? He wasn't against learning physical fighting tactics, but that she would use those first…it merely corroborated all of the unkind things he thought about Xavier's teaching methods.

He wasn't even sure how he went from wanting to warp his metal helmet and wrap it around her neck to wanting to shove her down on his bed and take her, hard and fast, until she was panting beneath him and clawing at his back. Even now, the thought of it made him stifle a groan of frustration.

This was ridiculous. She wasn't his usual choice for a bed partner—not that he'd had one for a while, ever since his alliance with Mystique had turned sour—and every time she opened her mouth he wanted to forcibly shut it again. Not to mention how appallingly young she was. Why, she was the same age as his children, for the love of God.

If he was in dire need of sex, he'd go find it somewhere else. The girl—Rogue—could not provide him with what he needed. It was obviously a moment borne of anger and frustration, and perhaps they could merely chalk it up to that and move beyond it. If he thought about it on occasion, about how her lithe body felt pressed to his, about how her face had looked flushed with anger and then passion, her soft voice saying Yes, yes in response to his command…well, he was a man. Who could blame him? Sex with her was out of the question, anyway—it could very likely kill him.

Maybe that's why you want her. Maybe you want to triumph over something deadly, after your spectacular failure with Apocalypse.

Annoyingly, that made perfect sense. He'd thought he would be beyond such petty assurances, but apparently that wasn't the case.

He'd had no idea what to expect the next time he saw her again. He'd expected her to be angry, and he was honestly surprised she'd not told Charles about what had happened. Despite the fact she'd been willing enough, Charles would still see it as taking advantage of his student because of their rather vast age difference. If she wanted him to be forced to leave, she was missing her golden opportunity by staying silent.

This was, strangely, exactly what she was doing.

He'd seen her the next morning in the kitchen, fixing herself a bowl of cereal. She'd made no effort to speak to him, but he'd felt her eyes on him as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. When he'd turned back, she'd been watching him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted.

He'd nearly shoved her against the kitchen wall. Did she have any idea what that intoxicating combination of fear and want did to him? He wasn't sure what the look on his own features was, other than that it made her suck in a breath and storm out of the kitchen, forgetting her cereal in her haste to escape him. He'd carried it out into the dining room and set before her without a word.

Then she'd surprised him by saying, albeit reluctantly and with a bit of a bite, "Thank you."

For a moment he'd been almost speechless until he'd recovered his composure. "You're welcome," he said slowly, watching the way her gloved fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her spoon.

Charles had smiled at the head of the table, his pleasure in their apparent well-mannered interaction palpable.

If only you knew, old friend.

Wait…why didn't he know? Or did he?

Unless he is keeping his word and staying out of my thoughts?

To which I am repaying him by lusting after--

Magneto had been unwilling to continue that train of thought. He'd spent a moment regarding the rest of them: Mystique's son, as like to her as glass was to steel, the girl who could walk through walls with the annoyingly chipper laugh. She was, if he recalled, a year younger than Rogue, though the thought of touching her as he had Rogue made him feel slightly ill.

No, it wasn't her youth that made him want her. It must be the control she'd given him and the knowledge of how dangerous she was…

He'd left the table abruptly, and he'd felt her eyes on him as he'd left.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

It was nearly one in the morning on a Wednesday when he saw her again.

He'd been unable to sleep and had gone outside, walking next to the pool and staring down into the darkened water, rippling slightly in the wind. If there was a moon it was hidden by the clouds; it was very dark outside.

"You goin' for a swim?"

Surprised, he saw her there, a slight figure on one of the lounge chairs lining the side of the pool. She was sitting with her chin atop her knees and her arms curled around herself.

"A bit too cold to swim now, is it not?" He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at her. The wind tossed her hair, the white streaks writhing like snakes above her head. Like Medusa. Somehow, he didn't think she'd appreciate the comparison.

She shrugged. "Guess so. Ain't much for swimmin' during the day, though. I burn too easy. I always liked it better at night. Less people around that I might put into a coma when I'm in a swimsuit." She wasn't looking at him, but it was the closest thing to a normal conversation the two of them had ever had.

"If people don't understand how dangerous your skin is, that is hardly your fault. They should know to give you your space." He felt strange talking to her in something other than his usual defense-laden tone.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes people are dumb."

Magneto could hardly argue with that sentiment. "A bit more often than sometimes, I'd say."

She actually laughed, then looked a bit guilty, as if she shouldn't laugh at anything he said. "Guess you're right." She stared up at him; he couldn't see her eyes in the darkness, they were as fathomless as the pool. "I—I have to ask you a question."

"Yes?" He moved closer, finding a dark thrill in the way he was towering above her.

She apparently didn't mind; he didn't miss the way her lips were slightly parted, breath coming faster, as she looked up at him. "Why?"

He could pretend to misunderstand her, but he didn't. "I'm not…entirely sure, Rogue." He paused. "Is that your name?"

She smiled a little. "My given name? No." She didn't offer further, so he didn't press her for an answer. No one ever called him by his given name except Charles, and he could hardly take her task for being called Rogue considering his name. "Magneto ain't yours, either," she responded pertly.

"Of course it isn't. That would have been rather coincidental, don't you think?" He was strangely gratified when her lips quirked up in response.

This seemed a strange cessation to the hostilities between them. He wasn't sure why they weren't fighting yet, actually.

Except for the slight tinges of awareness he could feel growing between them, which spoke of tension of another sort.

She swallowed. "You…were you tryin' to hurt me?"

He blinked, startled. "Absolutely not," he said, somewhat offended. "I am many things, Rogue, and no doubt quite a few of those things are unsavory. However, I am not a rapist."

She nodded slowly. "I didn't think so." Slowly, her body uncoiled from her tight defensive pose and she took a deep breath. "You probably want to know why I ain't told anybody."

"I figured that you were—" he stopped himself from finishing the sentence. "I admit I am curious," he said instead.

"What were you gonna say? Please, I—I have to tell you something after this, and it ain't easy, so I need—" she shook her head, biting her lower lip.

"I thought perhaps you were merely ashamed," he said slowly, unsure if that would anger her.

"I was, but not why you'd think." She stood up gracefully, arms wrapped around herself. "Look, I don't like you. You even sorta scare me, if you want the truth."

He tried not to smile at that; her somewhat grudging admission amused him. The clouds shifted, the moon peeking through just enough to allow him to see the troubled expression on her face as she looked up at him.

"I don't know how much you know about me, Magneto, or why I'm here," she said carefully. The wind picked up again, carrying the scent of towards him. It was clean and fresh, and brought stronger memories of her in his arms.

His hands were clenched at his sides. There was something about her vulnerability in that moment that made him feel dangerous; some dark part of him wanted to exploit it, and it was an unsettling realization to think how badly he wanted to control her…

"I can't ever relax, do you know that?" Her voice sounded strangled, as if the words had been torn from her very soul. "All day long, I'm tense. I have to make sure no one gets near me. I have to make sure Kurt doesn't think I'm gonna go gunnin' for Mommy Dearest. I gotta train and learn harder than everyone else, because my powers ain't long-range and I could get hurt, and I'm so angry all the time. Not to mention," she continued, her voice rising, "All these people I got in my head. Do you know what it's like?"

She didn't let him answer, beginning to prowl restlessly around the perimeter of the pool as she kept speaking. "I see my roommate, who's all happy with her boyfriend and doin' normal stuff that people my age do, and I can't seem to find the effort to want to bother. Not that it would matter, anyway, since everybody is too afraid to ask me out, 'cept of course that stupid Cajun henchman of yours that just thought he could use me."

Rogue's breathing was very fast now, and her hands were fisted tightly at her sides. "I'm so sick and tired of people usin' me, or tryin' to hurt me. I can't stand it." The clouds shifted again and he saw something that looked like tears on her face. She wiped at them angrily with her gloved hands. "Can't stand it, can't stand having to wrap myself in all these stupid clothes…"

Her hands tore at the gloves and she yanked them off, throwing them on the ground at her feet.

"I know what it is like to feel powerless," he said very quietly. It was very strange that he no longer saw her as one of Charles' students, or an object of his very focused lust, or anything other than a fellow mutant.

"Yeah. Well, then maybe you could explain something to me, then." She raised her head and fixed him with an intense stare. "Why is the only thing that has made me feel good in the last six months you shovin' me against a counter, or against a wall? Why would bein' powerless be the one thing that makes me feel better?"

"The same reason it's the only time I've felt anything much of all," he said honestly, surprised at his admission. They were standing a ways away from each other, but the air between them was growing very heavy.

"For God's sake, will you tell me what it is? 'Cause I hate it. It ain't fair, and I don't want it, but it's all I think about." She actually stomped her foot at that. "I think about it at night, when I should be asleep, in class, when I should be payin' attention, and in training."

His face flushed as that admission brought forth a barrage of rather erotic images, ones that he really didn't need clouding the already complicated situation. "You want someone to take the control away."

"But why? And why you? I don't even like you."

"How should I know?" he snapped, annoyed. "Perhaps you are sick and tired of being careful? You realize you are a mutant, homo superior, and you're sick of being treated like a doll that might shatter at any moment?"

"I feel like I might shatter at any moment," she whispered. "I can't calm down. The only time my mind wasn't whirlin' at a thousand miles an hour was when we—" she faltered; he could almost hear the blush in her voice. The tell-tale sign of her innocence was doing bad things to his mental stability. "And afterwards, it was like my mind was clear. For once."

"What is it you wanted to ask me?" He could hear huskiness in his voice and wondered if she knew what it meant.

"Did you like it?" She stepped closer to him, arms akimbo, facing him with a defiant glare and her chin tilted up.

It would be rather pointless to lie. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You are sure you want to hear this? You likely will not like the answer," he warned her, his hands fighting the urge to grab her and haul her against him. Do you want to see how much I liked it, girl?

"Yeah. I'm sure I won't. Just tell me."

"As I said before, I am not entirely certain. You are far too young for me. You are pleasant to look at it but you dress very strangely. You set my teeth on edge during the majority of our interactions."

"Uh, could you maybe stop with the insults? You ain't no prize, either," she muttered.

He glared down at her. "I admit there is the intrigue of your powers, of your being so very deadly." Unable to help himself, his hand came up and skirted lightly over the pale skin of her exposed collarbone. She gasped a little at the caress and he smiled. "And to be quite honest, having control over that—and you—was intoxicating."

"That's demented," she said, but her eyes were wide and her voice was suddenly very breathy.

"I told you that you wouldn't like it," he agreed, and his hands wrapped around her waist. His breathing turned harsh, and slowly, he began to tug her towards him. "Tell me what you want from me. There is something, is there not?"

She nodded, her hands creeping up to rest on his shoulders. The knowledge that they were bare, so close to his face, made nearly dizzy with want.

"I do. I want you to make my mind clear again. I want you to—control me." She was blushing hotly, but she didn't stop. "Make it—make it like it was before. You want to, don't you? To—to do it again?" At that, she looked a bit uncertain, worried perhaps that she'd misjudged his interest.

In lieu of a spoken answer, he yanked her fully against him, holding her hips tight to his. Her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Indeed. Now, Rogue, there are rules to these sorts of things," he said, walking backwards towards the chair with her still held against him.

"There—there are?" Her fingers were curled into his shirt, and she offered no resistance as he sat back down on the chair, legs stretched out in front of him with her slight weight straddling his lap. The urge to move her against him was overwhelming, but he'd be damned if they started this without any sort of understanding between them.

"Yes. You want me to be in control, then you must let me. I expect obedience. Complete obedience."

She looked at him. "This is the only place you're ever gonna get it from me, you know that, don't you? You try it anywhere else and forget it."

"I'm aware of that, yes." His eyes narrowed. "You understand what I mean by this? You do not tell me no, you do what I say? Even if you don't think you'll like it?"

She was squirming against him. "Y-yes," she answered breathily, and he hid a triumphant smile as he halted her movements with a rough grasp. "As long as it works…"

His hand slid up to her hair; he made sure to slide it slowly up her back, liking the way she whimpered at the contact. His hand wrapped around the thick mass of her hair and he pulled, hard, forcing her head backwards. "You will submit to me."

"I will," she moaned, and he could feel her entire body shaking in his arms.

Her capitulation was heady and sweet, like honey. "Then I will do what you want." Slowly he began moving her against his erection, clenching his teeth against the drenching pleasure of it. "And you will do as I say."

"Yes," she gasped, her head still back, gaze focusing skyward. Her fingers twisted in his shirt and he concentrated on moving her slowly, back and forth, fighting the almost irresistible urge to push her harder and move her faster against him.

He released her hair and drew one hand over her breast; she made a mewling sound that further inflamed him, pushing herself against his hand. He roughly pinched her nipple beneath her shirt and she gave another little shriek, trying to move herself faster on his lap, seeking friction.

He smiled darkly and tightened his grip on her waist, keeping her from doing so. "No," he said firmly. "Not yet. I want to hear you tell me what you did, Rogue, when you thought about the last time we did this."

She lowered her head so she could look at him. The moon was full-bright now, allowing him to see her expression. He almost wished it would go away again; the sight of her flushed skin and lust-bright eyes, the pupils nearly fully dilated, was making it hard for him to think.

"I…" she braced her hands on his chest and bit her lip; perhaps he was pushing her a bit too far. Still, if she was serious about her vow to submit to him, she would answer. "I touched myself. In the shower," she murmured, and then he thought maybe she shouldn't have answered because he nearly came just from hearing her say that.

"Did you? Did you come, remembering how it felt? Do you want to come now for me?"

She nodded, squirming against him, and she sounded almost like she was sobbing. "Yes…please, please," she gasped, her legs tightening briefly, and that almost made him see stars.

"You'll have to show me," he murmured. "Another time, perhaps." Reaching down, he unfastened his trousers and held her off him for a moment, freeing his erection and pushing up her skirt before he settled her back against him.

He hissed as he felt the wet slide of her panties against his flesh, and Rogue appeared nearly senseless at the sensation of his cock against the silk. She was bucking herself hard and fast, and he let her, his head thrown back against the chair as she rode him. If she didn't come soon, he was afraid he'd lose his mind and shove her panties to the side, deadly skin be damned…

"Good, good girl," he muttered, hardly aware of what he was saying. Obviously, that was the right thing, however, because she arched her back and came for him with a soft cry. His fingers tightened painfully on her waist as he bucked his hips and came hard against her, the sharp pleasure of it making him groan loudly.

She collapsed against him, warm and trembling faintly, and he loosely wrapped an arm around her waist so she didn't fall. After a few moments necessity dictated that he move before somehow their skin came into contact, so he shifted her away and re-adjusted himself.

They ended up sitting side by side on the chair, staring at each other as they both struggled to control their breathing. His heart felt like he'd run a mile in a minute flat.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, though he could tell very well that she did. Her eyes were drowsy, her face calm. None of that nervous tension or restless anger remained.

She nodded. "Yes," she said softly, and he smiled. He reached a hand out and lightly touched the white streak in her hair. It was curious, but he found that one of her most attractive features.

"Good. You may go, if you wish."

She nodded again and rose, tugging her skirt down and collecting her gloves. She didn't look back at him, but he watched her as she walked back towards the house.

This was probably very stupid, to start this with her. They lived in a house with two telepaths. She didn't even really like him, and he found himself possessed with a strong urge to wipe all that makeup off her face and teach her how to speak in proper English.

The moon hid beneath a cloud again, shrouding him once more in shadows.

Which is where I belong.

Magneto smiled in the dark.

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

MyLovetheSwampRat: Thanks! Glad you are enjoying the story, and nice to see another Magneto&Rogue fan out there!

Nercia Genesis: Haha, yes, it was supposed to be creepy, so I'm glad that you said you found it disturbing! Thanks so much for reading and for the comment!

Nettlez: Ah, well, you see--I am a fan of inappropriate relationships, obviously. Ha! So I am glad you enjoyed the chapter and that you thought it worked! Hope you enjoy the new part!

Miss Information: Oh! No sequel? Well, if not, please do write me a nice one-shot with Magneto and Rogue having "I haven't seen you for a month" sex on the asteroid and I'll be happy. Wow, that's definitely the strangest sentence I've written today. Hee! And I shall eagerly look forward to reading whatever you come up with. Thanks and glad you enjoyed the chapter--I confess to liking Jean, though I'm an Emma Frost fan at heart--which reminds me, do you read Ultimate, where Charles had the relationship with Emma when she was his student? He dumped Mystique for her, then named his cat Mystique? That makes me laugh. Anyway, thank you, and hope you enjoy this new bit. Thanks as always for reading!