AN: I know it sure seems like every Magneto and Rogue chapter is smutty, but I promise, it's not really. It's just we're saying their relationship--in which they are using each other--begin to change into something else. Hopefully, you'll pick up on that, and if not, maybe you will just enjoy the naughtiness!

I must warn you that there are strong d/s overtones in this chapter, as well as BDSM play. If such examples of power-play between consenting adults offends you, then I suggest you skip this one. Also, I have a deep and abiding love of Rogue calling Magneto "Sir," which is why when I read that in Miss Information's fic "Inappropriate Conduct", I squealed like a little girl.

Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading!

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Chapter 16

Rogue took a deep breath, staring at herself in the mirror, wondering what the hell she was doing.

You're going to him again. Because it's been two weeks and you're snapping at Kitty and you've failed two quizzes. This way you'll be able to concentrate. He's keeping his part of the bargain and you need to calm down. You're using him. This is all this is. This is what you want.

She buckled the skirt she was wearing into place, her hands shaking, as she repeated her inner monologue like a mantra, over and over. Except that lately…she was beginning to wonder if she should end this—whatever it was—between her and Magneto. Not because she didn't like it.

Because she did like it.

Rogue had never thought of herself as having an addictive personality before. She'd smoked exactly once in her entire life, and that had been with Risty. No, Mystique. She and Kitty had a few drinks one night at a party, but Rogue hadn't liked the way the alcohol had made her feel enough to want to do it all the time.

Sometimes she wondered if, because she was generally pessimistic and often moody, there was just nothing she liked enough to which she could become addicted. Kurt was the happy one who liked feeling good all the time, not her. It had seemed a good enough reason to Rogue, anyway, why she didn't get all excited about illegal substance consumption like some of her classmates.

Then she'd started this thing with Magneto, and…

She didn't think she was addicted to him--God, no—but rather she was becoming an addict to that beautiful, blissful feeling of calm that followed their…time together. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the flush on her skin, the bright cast to her eyes, and bit back a groan. She was already overly excited and she was still in her bathroom.

It was just that the thought of not having that feeling anymore made her panic grow exponentially, and that was exactly why she kept thinking she needed to end it. Of course, that thought just led to more panic, which in turn made her want to go to him even more.

In fact, she would go to him more than she did if it weren't for the danger of getting caught. That was always there, the threat of their resident telepaths picking up a stray thought from either of them, and it would most certainly be over when that happened. The Professor would make Magneto leave, and he'd watch Rogue like a hawk, and then she'd be back to being angry and anxious all the time, and…

Calm down. Jean's out with Scott and the Professor went to some symphony with Hank. No one's going to know what you're doing, and you'll be right as rain after it's over.

She left the bathroom, walking quickly down the hallway towards his room. Her heart was slamming like a mad thing in her chest, just like it always did. He still scared her, Magneto, and it usually took her a little while to relax when she first got to his room.

She knocked on the door, looking around nervously. The door swung open to admit her in silence. He didn't need to ask who was there.

Magneto was sprawled in the chair directly across from the bed. As usual, it always took her aback to see him dressed in normal clothes. He favored darker colors, which was a striking contrast to his pale hair and light eyes.

He's a handsome man.

Rogue blinked. She'd never really thought that before. Magneto was just the vehicle by which she attained that sought-after calmness, and it didn't matter what he looked like. At least, that's what she'd always thought, anyway. He really was nice-looking, though, especially now, when he appeared relaxed and slightly less threatening than normal.

He was barefoot, and in her opinion, it was hard to look scary when you weren't wearing shoes.

"Is something the matter?"

She looked up at him, blushing faintly at having been caught in her perusal. "Ah…no. Well, I mean, no more than the usual." She entered the room and closed the door behind her, standing perfectly still in the middle of the room with her hands behind her back, head bowed submissively.

It wasn't something he ever asked her to do. It was just…something about it felt right.

"Come here."

She approached him, eager to begin this and let her worries fall away, but she was surprised when instead of telling her to lie on the bed as he usually did, he stood and tipped her chin up. "What's wrong?"

Startled, Rogue stared at him for half a second without speaking. He didn't…why was he asking her this? It wasn't…they never…she wasn't here to talk.

"I believe I asked you a question," he said in a low voice, and the implicit command made her knees weak even as she resisted what he wanted her to do. It wasn't fair--he wasn't supposed to care what led her to him, he was just supposed to fix it so she didn't think about it anymore.

"I—" she swallowed, her eyes searching his, looking for some hint that this wasn't part of the game. "N-nothing's the matter."

His eyes narrowed, and his hand tightened on her chin. It made her wince. "That would be the wrong answer, girl. Try again."

"I failed two math quizzes," she said, unable to do anything but obey him when he looked at her like that. "And I keep snappin' at Kitty and I hurt Kurt's feelings the other day when I told him that there was no way in hell I was signin' a card for Mystique at Christmas. He acted like he hated her after that business with Apocalypse, and now he's back to bein' all convinced maybe she ain't evil incarnate after all."

He smiled briefly. "Ah. I wondered if it wasn't something to do with your mother—"

"Don't call her that," Rogue snapped, angry. "She ain't a mother. She's just some loony bitch that thinks she's got some right to be in my life 'cause she paid Irene to take care of me." Rogue was faintly trembling with emotion. "I want to know who my birth parents are. That's all I have ever wanted from her and she won't tell me. I ain't even sure of my real name, did you know that? She left Kurt to die when he was a baby, and she thinks—"

"Stop," he said quietly, firmly, resting his hands at her waist and squeezing lightly. Curiously, it was enough to stop her diatribe from escalating any further, though she was still visibly upset.

"You asked," she muttered. Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you care, anyway?"

His mouth tightened. "Oh, that's right. Evil monster that I am, I should just take advantage of you and be quick about it, is that it?"

Rogue tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. "Yeah. That's right. This ain't about you carin' what's wrong with me, it's about—"

He hauled her against him, his breathing rapid. She could feel him hard against her, and it gave her pause. She never could figure out what he saw in her, unless it was as he'd said; he liked the control she gave him.

Then why isn't he taking it?

"Do you wish to give me orders, girl? Go on, then." He smiled coldly at her. "I dare you."

"What in the name of hell is the matter with you?" She demanded, glaring at him. "If you ain't in the mood for company, Magneto—"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he snapped, and while this was usually what she liked, right now it felt…wrong.

"Actually, yeah, you did," she said, holding herself very still. She forced herself to expel a breath, to try and gain control. "Look—"

"No. I'm—I'm sorry." He pushed her away a little, although she really didn't notice because she was so shocked that he'd just…apologized. "You do not have to tell me what is bothering you. It is none of my business."

Rogue sat on the bed, watching him carefully, feeling as if something had shifted between them. "It's all right," she said slowly. "I don't mind tellin' you, I guess." As admissions went, it wasn't the most graceful, but it was nonetheless the truth.

"Oh? It did not appear that way to me," he said dryly, hands in his pockets as he looked down at her.

She looked away a trifle guiltily. "It just surprised me that you cared."

"I see. Nevertheless, you did promise me obedience, and you've been a very bad girl. I should send you away."

Despite the threat in his voice, she knew he wasn't serious. She could almost feel things returning to normal between them, that slight aberration fading away as if it had never happened. "Please, don't," she whispered, keeping her head bowed.

"Then you promise you will be a good girl and not argue with me?" He reached out and took her shirt off, tossing it to the floor so that she was dressed only in her bra from the waist-up. He pushed her rather firmly towards the bed, on which she kneeled with her head bowed.

"Yes…yes, sir," she answered, a bit shy about using the form of address. He'd never asked her to, not once, but she…sort of wanted to. She'd been doing some online reading after Kitty had gone to sleep—mostly to assure herself she wasn't the only one out there who liked someone to do the things Magneto did to her—and the thought of calling him that had been very arousing.

He sucked in a breath, his gloved hands resting lightly on her back. "That's not necessary," he said quietly, but she knew that he liked it. She didn't need his mind in hers to know that.

"I know," she murmured, a little too embarrassed to look up, and grateful that he didn't demand it of her. "If you don't like it—"

"Shhh," he murmured, his hands going to her shoulders. The cool leather felt good against her heated skin. "I didn't say that I didn't," he said quietly. To her surprise, he began kneading her shoulders with firm, expert hands.

This wasn't at all his usual pattern of behavior. Suddenly, she was worried that he didn't want her, that maybe he was trying to push her away because he decided he didn't want to do it anymore—

"Relax, Rogue," he commanded, his hands tightening. It hurt, this massage of his, but it felt good, too.

Too worried about the scenario her mind had conjured up to do as he'd asked, she twisted around and looked at him nervously. "Don't you—"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did I ask you to speak or tell you to look at me?"

"No, sir," she gasped, and excitement curled low in her belly as she stared at him almost defiantly.

"I thought you promised to be my good girl. This is not what I would call good. This is what I would call disobedient."

She kept her head up, wanting him to… "You'll have to make me, sir," she said, almost astounded at her own daring.

She saw his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he smiled, slowly, a gleam in his eyes she both feared and found intriguing. Without warning, he slapped her on her back, hard, with the open palm of his gloved hand.

Rogue cried out, but she didn't look away from him, her gaze remaining challengingly locked with his.

"Is this not hard enough for you, girl?" He did it again, the stinging slap of leather-on-skin a torment and a delight in a way she'd never felt before.

"No, sir," she whispered, trembling.

He leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear. "I know what you want," he murmured, his breath warm. "Disobedience will not allow you to have it." To her surprise, he pressed a very light, gentle kiss on the nape of her neck. "Lie on your stomach for me and relax. There is a time and a place for challenging my authority. Now is not it."

Slowly, Rogue complied, easing herself back into the position he wanted.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, and she sighed, finding a pleasure in those words that she derived from few other things. She went unresisting to her stomach, fingers curling lightly into the blanket covering his bed as he flipped her skirt up and exposed her ass.

The sound she made when she felt his hand come down wasn't a cry. It was a sigh of surrender, blissful and soft. She let herself relax fully, let the pain drive away the fear and the anxiety, and submitted just like he wanted.

Just like she wanted.

ooooooooOOOOooooooo

When she came back to herself, she became aware of the air on her exposed skin; it was cool and it made her shiver a little. She blinked owlishly, pushing herself up cautiously, waiting to see if he'd tell her not to. He didn't, though, so she sat up fully, wincing at the pleasurable sting against her reddened skin.

Surely later she'd feel embarrassed about how much she'd really liked that, but not now. Now all she felt was a drowsy contentment, just like she did after their more sexual encounters. Her body thrummed with lingering desire, but it was the ache of it was gratifying, almost, just like the bruises he'd probably left with his hand.

Rogue saw him sitting in the chair again, watching her, his eyes burning. His face was flushed, and he was breathing very quickly, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair tightly. His hands were no longer gloved; she could see his knuckles were white under the strain. She found him suddenly, dangerously attractive, and her mouth was dry as she thought about climbing in his lap and touching him.

She knew that he expected her to leave, since he'd done what she'd wanted and delivered her into that beautiful state of tranquility. Rogue stood up on shaking legs and moved closer to where he sat.

"You may go, Rogue," he said, but his voice was missing that terseness that usually accompanied his commands, imbued instead with a husky undertone that made her knees weak.

"Sir," she whispered, standing before him naked from the waist up, liking the way his eyes drifted to her breasts almost hungrily. "I—do you want me to leave?"

His eyes traveled up her body, slowly, and it felt like he was touching her. Her desire grew stronger and she pressed her legs together, biting her lip as he met her gaze, his own eyes heavy-lidded with lust. "No," he said hoarsely, reaching out for her.

She allowed him to pull her on his lap, and she carefully kept herself from touching his exposed skin as she curled up there. Slowly, she traced one gloved hand down his chest, her heart racing at being so forward and touching him. He didn't stop her, but she could feel how tense his body was beneath hers.

They were both breathing very loudly as she undid the buttons of his trousers with shaking, satin-covered fingers. When she wrapped her hand around his erection, he hissed and his hips arched upwards. His hand wrapped around her own, his fingers bruising-tight. Rogue looked at him, pausing, waiting for some sign that she should continue or stop.

Slowly, he began to move her hand, showing her what to do. It was very erotic, sitting in his lap half-undressed and stroking him with her gloved hand, and she could not take her eyes off his face, fascinated by her effect on him as he moaned loudly at her touch.

He was thrusting into her hand with increasing urgency. One of his hands slid between her legs, and pressed against her cloth-covered mound. Rogue whimpered at that, keeping her legs splayed apart since his hand was bare. This would not be a welcome time for an accident.

"God," he moaned, throwing his head back, his eyes closed. His fingers stilled for a moment between her legs as he shuddered, his cock swelling in her grasp.

She tried to smile, but she was trembling too hard to do so. "I'm…being…good, sir," she gasped out, thrilled at calling him sir while seated on his lap and fisting his cock.

He opened his eyes, fixing her with a heated, lustful stare. His fingers rubbed her hard, and then before she could tell him not to, slid beneath her panties to press gently on her swollen flesh. Rogue arched her back and came with a sharp cry, her hand tightening reflexively around him, the unknown sensation of someone's fingers pressed bare between her legs undoing her utterly.

Seconds later she felt him come, warm and sticky on her hand, his breath escaping in a low moan. She buried her face against his chest, gasping for breath, so totally and completely under his thrall that she could think of nothing else but him.

Eventually, he shifted her off of his lap and moved her to the bed, where she lay in delicious capitulation and utter satisfaction. Presently she pulled her gloves off and tossed them on the floor, knowing they were ruined but unable to care. She needed to get dressed. She needed to go back to her room. She couldn't move.

He surprised her by returning to the bed wearing gloves. He sat next to her, and without a word, began messaging her shoulders again. This time, she didn't fight him at all. In fact, she smiled delightedly and closed her eyes. "Mmm."

"That's a good girl, now," he said huskily, and she felt warm and drowsy and safe. In fact, she felt herself sliding into sleep as he touched her, even though it wasn't really the smartest of ideas.

Something had changed between them, and some part of her knew it. They had a very specific relationship; she came to him upset, he touched her until she came so that she would calm down. Their intimacy was never wholly about sex--at least, it hadn't been until tonight. She'd wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch her, even after he'd managed to put her in the headspace she so wanted.

What that meant, she wasn't sure. It probably wasn't anything good.

She fell asleep without finding it within herself to care very much. His hands were warm and firm, and his voice was soothing as murmured, "Good girl, good…" until she heard nothing else.

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Lady Leeli: Thank you! I am glad you are enjoying the story. I would love to suggest both Willowaus and Miss Information as wonderful writers of Magneto/Rogue that can be found here on We also have a community on Livejournal, which is called Demented Allure (with an underscore between Demented and Allure), if you're interested in reading more!

Miss Information: Yeah, Pietro really does seek approval, which he always appears to be doing to me in comicverse as well. And I'm glad you liked Pietro's rather unorthodox way of making money--I must admit that idea was my husband's, who's a brilliant enabler of my writing evo!fic (even though he really wants me to write a fic where Rogue and Wanda make out. Hee! Men.), and I'm so thankful he came up with it! I hail from the Bluegrass State (Kentucky since you're an Aussie) and we like to play the ponies, so it was great fun to write. I don't think that our fics will be similar--mine involves a convoluted (ha) plan in which the Brotherhood and Xmen take down Apocalypse, and the only AoA thing really in the story is Blink for identification purposes (someone has to know Ehn Sabah Nur is nutso.) Anyway, I'll happily read whatever you come up with! Yay! And I love your Evo!verse stuff. Also, I hope you like this chapter! I read the reviews to your awesome fic IC the other day and snorted really loud at the girl who called submissives doormats. Ah, some people just don't get it. :) Thanks for reading, as always! And do drop by Demented Allure on LJ sometime (there's an underscore between Demented and Allure--weird formatting on won't let me put it in there), we'd love to have ya!

Nercia Genesis: Yeah, Pietro could do with thinking things through a bit more carefully, couldn't he? Hee! I do hope you're enjoying this chapter, as it's--what is it again? Mogue? Rogneto? I can't remember. Anyway, enjoy, and thanks for reading!