Entangled

by Wiccamage

Continuation of Ensnared. Co-Written with Maedelin! Driven by the heady combination of drugs and sex, Rogue makes her choice, letting Magneto use her as 'bait' in his quest to bring down the Friends of Humanity's trafficking ring. She'll soon discover, however, that once she's opened Pandora's box, it is impossible to go back.

4. Chapter 4: Insatiable

~X~X~X~X~X~

Entangled

Chapter 5: Insatiable

~X~X~X~X~X~

Another 90 minutes, FOUR orgasms (it seemed making her climax was Erik's new favorite pastime), and two showers later, Rogue's body was still humming from the mind-numbing after effects of her latest sexual escapade with the 'fearsome' Magneto. She almost giggled aloud as she recalled the impish look on his face as he had mercilessly tickled her into submission while simultaneously screwing her senseless - as he had throughout most of Friday afternoon.

Yet, satisfied as she was, Rogue still felt a growing sense of unease about what the X-Men would say if they ever found out. Try as she might, she could not banish the graying clouds of guilt from her mind, and she sighed as she felt her nerves - and hormones - begin overshadowing the calming effects of the Swing. It seemed only natural, then, to ask her 'benefactor' for another dose of it as she sat on the edge of the tub, finger combing her wet hair while they both puttered around in the hotel's fluffy white bath towels. After all, she reasoned, she had to stay clear-headed for the mission tonight.

Erik raised a brow, but said nothing when she requested another pill. He simply handed it to her with a new bottle of water, scoffing at her suggestion of avoiding a service charge by refilling the others from the tap. He watched her take a long draught, hunger growing in his eyes.

'Insatiable.' she thought to herself as her lips parted from the bottle, and she offered it to him with a small, almost shy smile.

He took it in hand and drank deeply, smiling at her. Taking the empty bottle, he left the bathroom. "I'll unpack the shoes," was all he said as he left her a moment to herself. Rogue picked the dress up, and realized that even though she had her makeup laid out, something else was missing.

Barely four seconds later, she stalked out of the bathroom, dress half-gathered in one hand.

"Where's mah bra and-"

"You won't need them," he said simply.

She simultaneously felt cold metal rise up along her ankles. They slithered upwards against her outer calves, turning inward along her thighs. She gasped, dropping the dress as the chilly metal slid along her sensitive, overstimulated flesh, a whisper of contact against her outer labia before coursing over her hips, and along the inner curves of her torso. As they crossed one another, flowing like rivers at slightly different temperatures, there was a flicker of kiss at her navel, before tickling her ribs, and settling under her breasts, lifting them up, and caressing against her stiff, aching nipples.

"I will provide you all the… support you need tonight," he paused as he moved closer to her during the thrilling exchange. His thumb rested against the pulse at the crook of her jaw before sliding under her chin and tilting her head up to look at him. His fingers were laced in her hair, anchoring his grip. "What do you think?"

Her breath came so fast that her ribs pulsed against the thin, resisting metal. Despite how attenuated the metal was; it refused to allow her to take as deep a breath as she may have wanted. "Ah…Ah think…"

"Hmm?" he murmured, his lips drifting closer to hers. "Complete your thought, my dear."

"Ah think y'forgot the panties." she murmured and he chuckled, low and deep in response.

"You will not need them," he assured her again, a wide smirk growing on his face. "You dropped the dress, Rogue." His hand shifted to her shoulder, and she slid to her knees to pick it up.

When she tried to rise, his hand pressed down on her shoulder. Her hands were glued to the floor with his magnetic powers as more metal wrapped gently around her wrists. He was still undressed, and she was eye level with his hardening cock. Her stomach jolted in realization.

It seemed they were going to be delayed a bit longer...

~X~X~X~

When Rogue finally returned home just before 10pm that night, she could barely walk straight from both the drugs and multiple rounds of sex. She had taken another bath at the hotel room - three of them, really, as she tried to scrub away Magneto's scent - terrified Logan would sniff them out. Even still, she jumped in the shower again as soon as she made it back to her room at Xaviers. She was still astounded that, miraculously, no one had stopped or confronted her as she returned nearly 12 hours later.

As she lathered up with vanilla body wash, she reminisced on her successful mission with Erik. It could barely even be considered a 'mission', though, considering how casual and intimate the evening had started.

Once they'd arrived at the club, Erik had discretely paid off the wait staff to procure the perfect corner booth where they had views of the entire establishment. Then he'd tucked Rogue into the far end where she was less likely to be accidentally touched by some random stranger.

Once Mr. Harker had arrived, Rogue used her camera necklace to get some video footage of him and his associates, the small doses of Swing in her system making her feel more confident and certain than ever. Erik had ordered them dinner, deliberately drawing out the number of courses to ensure their lingering presence seemed natural. She recalled the moment where she'd finally decided to take a risk and trust her own intuition and impulsivity.

"How many of those pills did y'r other guinea pigs take before they got REAL tipsy?" Rogue whispered in Erik's ear, partially draping herself in his lap to make it look as if she was suggesting something provocative. There was no telling if they were being watched or recorded as they did their own recon.

To his credit, Magneto played along, tipping his head toward her and smiling as he ran his hand up her bare thigh and tapped on it five times.

Rogue nuzzled his ear with her nose, smiling, and continued in an extremely quiet, husky voice. "Go order me a drink at the bar, few seats down from Harker. Put three pills in mah drink and stir it while you wait f'r yours. Try'n ACT like y'r bein' sneaky, but make SURE he sees ya do it. Ah'll take it from there, and if we play our cards right, we'll have a tracker on him AND his friends b'fore they leave."

With a last impish impulse, Rogue nipped Erik's ear lobe and pulled back, winking at him as he stood and announced he was going to go order some drinks.

In the shower, Rogue scrubbed her scalp with her favorite Magnolia shampoo, marveling at just how well her impromptu plan had worked - well, MOSTLY.

Harker and his associates had indeed witnessed Erik dosing Rogue's drinks, and the southerner had watched the men tittering about it once he headed back to their table. She had been sure to play the part well. Acting poised and stiff, unsure and demure, for just as long as it had taken for the increased dose of Swing to fully kick in.

After that, well, it didn't take a lot of 'acting' for her to appear fully intoxicated. Miraculously, she'd managed to get through the rest of the night without making a complete fool of herself.

Although that wasn't ENTIRELY true, she realized, and she blushed with horror as fuzzy memories of Erik fingering her under the table and kissing her - first to suppress her pleas for mercy, then her orgasmic moans - rushed to her mind.

She knew anyone who had been watching closely would have known EXACTLY what was going on, despite the darkness of their corner booth. Her head spun as she recalled Harker and his associates sneaking peeks at her and smiling, and the sickening feeling of embarrassment, remorse, and shame made her vomit unexpectedly in the shower.

She watched as the green drinks Erik had fed her swirled down the drain, and she almost laughed at the metaphor between the vivid image and her own life.

But, she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had accomplished a momentous task. The evening - and her own personal humiliation - had yielded many rewards for their work against the Friends of Humanity. When Harker and his 'friends' had left the club, Rogue - in her inebriated state - had followed, insisting Erik give her an opportunity to 'escape' him for a few minutes by ordering more drinks.

As the super heated water beat down on her face, the X-Man recalled the moment where everything had come together, and had almost fallen apart.

~X~X~X~

Wearing Erik's suit coat, Rogue rushed from the back door of the club, the same from which Harker and his equally inebriated associates had left only moments before. With a frantic look around, she stumbled down the alley toward the five whispering men, using the side of the building to keep herself upright.

It didn't take the men long to spot her, and she locked eyes with Harker, her green irises wide and bright with feigned terror and drugged lust.

"H-hey!" she called desperately, glancing back over her shoulder toward the doors from where she knew Erik would be emerging any moment.

"P-please - y'all gotta h-help me!" She tottered toward the group of men who stood watching her with narrowed, amused expressions. "Ah think - Ah think mah date dr-drugged me! Ah can't… Oh gawd. Please! Please help me!"

Rogue threw herself at Harker's feet, making sure to grab hold of his shoe to transfer the tiny tracking chip to the bottom notch in his sole. She felt the skin on her bare knees scrape against the unforgiving sidewalk, but the Swing in her system made it easy to forget the pain. The men hardly reacted to her, unwilling to help or speak to her as she sobbed and grappled at their legs pleadingly.

"There you are," she heard Erik's smooth, deep voice call from a few yards away and she latched onto another man's legs and feet, planting a second tracker on him as well while she sobbed openly.

"NO! Please!" She looked up into Harker's eyes, swallowing hard at the malice and contempt in his gaze. She turned her gaze to another man, who seemed more intrigued than vicious. "Please, suhr! Ah don't wanna go with him! Ah th-think he drugged me! Don't let him near me!"

By that point, Erik had approached the group, and one of the men leaned down to grab her by her suit-coat covered arm.

"I'd be careful if I were you, pal," Magneto muttered darkly, as if the crying girl at their feet couldn't hear them. "She's a filthy mu'ant." The man's hand sprang away as if burned before reaching her. He muttered a curse, his other hand going to his pocket. Perhaps for a weapon of some sort?

Rogue could tell Erik was trying to change his tone of voice, masking his crisp, poised patois with a casual, almost Bostonian accent, and she nearly blew their cover right there by giggling through her fake tears.

Harker and his men exchanged glances and two of them stepped back a little. "A mutant, huh?" Their blonde 'mark' asked curiously. "What uh, what's she do?"

"Manipulates metal," Erik announced quietly, and Rogue looked up as the nearby cars and street lights started to shake slightly. "She's gonna have a hard time using those powers for now, though - least 'til THESE wear off." He pulled what was left of the baggie of green pills from the breast pocket of his dark blue button up. "Now I just have ta figgerout how ta get more of 'em down 'er throat 'til…" He looked up at the men, pretending as if he had forgotten himself and who he was talking to. "'Til later."

Erik - still in character and playing along with Rogue's ruse - grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet abruptly, making her wince and cry out in actual pain. She was drawn up to her feet as his other hand gripped her waist.

The X-Man grabbed Magento's hand on her arm and tried to tug it loose, his furious grip feeling more realistic by the second. "Oow! You're HURTING me!" For a moment she'd forgotten they were merely actors, playing a part, until Harker and his associates snickered.

She turned fearful green eyes back at the men, pleading as she remembered what it was she was doing. "Don't just STAND there!" she demanded of the strangers. "Help me!" But the men around her only chuckled, and one said something so filthy it made Rogue blush furiously.

"Seems t' me a mutie like you could help herself," one of the men with graying brown hair and a crooked nose sneered.

Rogue narrowed her eyes, still pretending to struggle away from her 'captor,' still wincing for real as Erik's grip on her arm tightened slightly. The metal surrounding them - from the streetlights, to the parked cars, to the framed windows - began rattling once more as she glared daggers, and for a moment, she actually wondered if she WAS controlling it. She reached out with her free hand, lunging at Harker as a streetlamp began to twist in his direction, when Magneto suddenly pulled her captured arm behind her back. It wrenched her shoulder painfully as every ounce of metal in the vicinity froze in 'response' to her immobilized limbs.

"Watch out for her hands. I don't think she can control it withou' 'er hands," Erik hissed, pulling her flush against his chest as she gasped and momentarily forgot to struggle. The delicious, giddy, euphoric lust was bubbling to the surface again, and Rogue moaned, eyes slipping closed as his erection prodded her backside.

God that felt good, she thought, as his penis pulsed lightly through his pants. Where was… what was she doing? Ugh. Keep focused!

Harker eyed the pair suspiciously, as if trying to determine the validity of the situation, when Rogue's eyes flew open and she screamed out.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!"

Her shriek was so loud, so realistic, as her drugged and muddled mind momentarily confused her current situation with her more terrifying one last week, that it actually startled Erik, causing him to drop her arms. She fell forward onto the sidewalk, landing hard on her hands and knees.

"Look out," one of the younger, dark haired men cried. "She's loose!"

Rogue pushed herself up, raising her hands into the air as metal began to contort and twist again. Two of Harker's 'friends' began to retreat, one of them practically sprinting down the street as the others took a few steps back.

Then, while Magneto jumped back in feigned surprise (and secretly toyed with the retreating men using metal street lights), Harker pulled a needle and syringe from his pocket, pulling the cap off with his teeth in one fluid motion. Right before the needle plunged into Rogue's neck, Erik grabbed the man's wrist, arresting its movement.

"Whaddya think yer doin'?" the master of magnetism asked the blonde as he yanked Rogue back onto her feet and twisted one arm behind her back. She cried out in pain and fear that wasn't completely feigned. The metal surrounding them clattered to the ground once more.

"Puttin' her down," Harker sneered and removed his hand, his eyes raking lustily over Rogue's heaving cleavage as her back was arched out and away from Erik by his tight hold.

"Look man, I don't want no dead mutie girl on my hands," Erik insisted, shifting her farther away from Harker. But there was anger in his voice, a silken menace that Rogue could sense and Harker couldn't. Rogue gasped, panting for show and for fear. She wondered hazily if Harker was about to die.

"It won't kill her, FRIEND," Harker insisted. "This is just the new, improved form of those there pills you have. X.D.M. right?"

Erik nodded once, eyes still narrowed. "Swing, yeah. Why ain't I heard about that kind, then?"

"Brand new," Harker smiled as he pulled the needle away. Even so, his eyes still raked over Rogue's body as she struggled against Erik slightly. "Works almost instantly. Why don't I show you?"

Rogue gasped, true terror surging in her veins as she fought against Magneto's grip for real. She had no idea if the megalomaniacal mutant was desperate enough that he would offer her up as a sacrifice just to stop the Friends of Humanity. And, neither of them knew what this injectable version of 'Swing' would do to her, especially since she'd already had close to the maximum dose of pills.

Harker's hand descended again, but Magneto caught it once more before the needle entered Rogue's neck and the breath she was holding left her lungs in a relieved sigh.

"If I'm gonna be spending good money on this stuff, I wanna check it out for myself." Magneto sneered, and Rogue gasped as she watched him hold out his hand.

"No! Please, d-don't!" she panted raggedly as Harker placed the syringe in Erik's open palm. Her heart was hammering in her throat as she watched the men, her bright green eyes darting from one stranger to the next as she struggled.

"Don't I need a vein or somethin'?" The undercover mutant asked their blonde mark as he examined the green liquid within the syringe.

Harker shook his head. "Veins make it a bit faster, but this is a strong enough dose to knock her out for a few hours at least."

Rogue whimpered and dug her nails into Magneto's hand on her arm, forgetting once again that they were simply playing a part.

So too, it seemed, did Magneto, as he actually plunged the needle roughly into her neck before she could even react. Rogue yelped and tried to break away, her free arm swung around to make a grab for the syringe even as he depressed a bit of the fluid into the muscle.

While Erik quickly pocketed the needle and put a hand over her mouth, the X-Man kicked and writhed, flailing about with mind numbing terror. A moment ago she'd been concerned about Magneto killing Harker, but now she was far more worried about what was going to happen to HER.

Why on EARTH had she been so stupid as to trust their enemy?! Her entire body shook violently - be it from terror or the drugs she didn't know - and she tried not to sob as her mind whirled with thoughts of betrayal and misuse.

Gradually, Rogue felt her very blood seem to slow in her veins, her vision doubling, then tripling, as the street pitched wildly and her legs gave out.

She felt herself being swept up into strong, familiar arms even as she moaned and whimpered. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn't keep her eyes completely open, and what she could see was blurred beyond recognition. Consciousness was fleeing, and she desperately tried to keep pace with it.

The men were talking in hushed voices; she couldn't make a single word out, and she felt Erik shift her in his arms as the other man passed him something. For a moment, her muddled brain wondered if Magneto would simply hand her over to these men just to find out where they were taking other victims, but she was too incoherent to articulate a single word. Her body trembled harshly as tears leaked from her eyes and her head flopped bonelessly over his elbow.

A few moments later she felt herself being dumped unceremoniously into the backseat of a car and heard the door slam as police sirens wailed nearby. By that point her eyes refused to open at all, though, and she tried desperately not to cry as she wondered if Magneto had truly forsaken her.

~X~X~X~

In the shower, Rogue shuddered at the memory - the terrifying moment of uncertainty that still plagued her. Magneto had acted so convincingly that, for a while at least, she had actually believed he had let Harker take her.

After twenty minutes of driving around, she had gradually come back to her senses enough to open her eyes, and then finally to roll over on the back seat. She glanced up to the rearview mirror, trying to determine which of the men had taken her, when Erik's blue-gray eyes met hers. Once she'd realized she was still safe with him, and not the unwilling captive of an agent for The Friends of Humanity, she'd immediately dissolved into a mess of shivering tears and gut wrenching sobs.

The shower's hot water helped soothe her trembling even now, so many hours after Erik had pulled over in an alley and climbed into the backseat to console and congratulate her, promising no harm would befall her as he removed her already loosened wig and wrapped her tightly in his coat. Once he had calmed her enough, assuaging her doubts and fears of betrayal, they continued on to the hotel from earlier. He'd carried her up to the room, wherein the 'fearsome' mutant had run her a bubble bath, ordered room service, and spent the rest of the evening cuddling and soothing her as she slowly came down from the worst of the drug's effects.

Magneto had not, in fact, injected her with the entire syringe full of Swing as Rogue had assumed. Using a slight of hand trick, he'd given her just enough of a dose to make sure she temporarily fell victim to the effects, but not enough to completely incapacitate her. The rest of the liquid filled syringe had been tucked into his pocket and carefully protected with a metal casing until a couple of Acolytes had come to collect it while she soaked in the tub.

Erik had not stopped gushing for nearly three hours about how excellent she had done, and how proud he was of her for sticking with it despite her drugged state. When she'd first left the club under the guise of 'escaping', it had given him enough time to contact his own team to tail Harker and each of his associates before he went outside to 'find' her. He was in awe at how level headed and convincing she had been even while under duress.

Each of Harker's associates had been photographed and trailed after they hastily departed the club. As Magneto later informed Rogue, Harker had given him a card with an address, but the sounds of police sirens had scattered the last of the 'Friends' before more information could be exchanged. Apparently Rogue's screams had actually grabbed someone's attention, and the anonymous caller had alerted the authorities to a possible abduction.

Under the spray of the shower, Rogue shivered despite the heat. She took another deep breath, forcing herself to push down the moments of terror, and focus instead on the incredible progress they'd made because of her efforts.

Now Harker and one of his associates had trackers in their shoes; each of the men had an Acolyte dogging their every move across the city; they'd discovered the first known circulation of the new injectable Swing; and they actually had a sample to present to the scientists who were still trying to crack the composition of the original pills.

Thanks to Rogue, their knowledge of these "friends" was growing with every joint mission.

So too, was Rogue's… education. Regardless of how cold she currently felt, her insides were still boiling with heated desire because of the slowly fading Swing. Her cheeks blushed furiously as her mind pushed down all the unpleasantness and focused instead on what had initially held them up before they'd even started planning the mission.

"You dropped the dress, Rogue." Magneto said as his firm hand guided her kneeling descent to pick up the purple silk. When she tried to rise, she found his hand anchoring her there. His cock was eye level to her, and she knew exactly what he wanted. A jolt of excitement, trepidation, and modesty thrilled through her, making her tremble.

"Open your mouth," Erik urged her, and obediently, she did. Her jaw opened, but not enough as he began to dip his cock into her mouth. The hand that was on the shoulder remained for the moment, but the other lifted her head, wrapping once again around her thick chestnut hair to guide her into the proper position.

He didn't wait for her to grow accustomed to this new experience, and she gagged a little as his thick, throbbing penis filled her mouth and probed deeper. She felt her own hands rising, the bracelets he'd made for her magically reappearing from where she'd left them in the bathroom. One hand lifted to his penis, her fingers automatically wrapping around it, and the other cupped his balls, feeling the texture difference between the soft scrotum and his hard shaft.

He encouraged her gently, instructing her on when to breathe through her nose, how much pressure to apply, and when to adjust her pace. He was a diligent, but disciplined, instructor. Between hisses of satisfaction and pumping, he provided some specific coaching at first, but mostly left it to her to find a way to please him.

So she did. She utilized what she knew from pure instinct, what she had absorbed from others, and all that she had read up until now. Despite the haze from the drugs, she was desperate to keep focus and pace. She bobbed her head, doing her best to take the entirety of him in her mouth, when he suddenly gave her a new command between gritted teeth.

"Look…up, Rogue…" he managed to grunt out between thrusts. She did, and as their eyes met, it seemed to be the last he needed to spill his seed into her mouth in pulsing jerks. Caught unaware, Rogue would have pulled back, if it wasn't for his firm hands gripping her head and shoulder, holding her in place.

"No…" he snarled as he came. "Swallow, my dear. Swallow." The hand on her shoulder shifted to pinch her nose, following her head as she tried to jerk away.

Coughing, choking a bit on his cock and his cum, she managed it, but her own chest was heaving fit to match his as she gagged on the foreign, salty taste. Finally, he released her nose, allowing her to breathe freely, and her eyes burned with tears from both her gag reflex and lack of oxygen.

She took deep, careful breaths through her nose to stop herself from vomiting while his dick pulsed in her mouth. His hand slid from the back of her head to her cheek as he slowly removed himself from her mouth, and he cradled her face gently. A pang of erotic satisfaction lanced through her like lightning, making her insides quiver.

Thinking about it now, the way his body had been at her mercy had been… exquisite. Empowering, even. She realized that every moan, every gasp of pleasure and hiss of surprise had been a direct result of HER doing, and it sent a thrill of excitement and renewed desire flooding through her. She had pleased Erik in more ways than just 'out in the field,' and despite how much he had praised her for her excellent work against the F.O.H., it was his flattery in the bedroom that made her flush with gratification.

As she lathered up, her hands traveled over her saturated skin and she closed her eyes, remembering those sweet, sensual moments they'd shared after the mission.

She relished the memory of his hands traveling gently over her body, propelled not by intense need, but by his swelling pride and effusive praise for her accomplishments that night. Rogue re-lived every little touch, every kiss and lick and nip, and she found herself no longer shaking from cold and adrenaline, but from overwhelming desire and unfulfilled need.

Fully enveloped in the hot water from her shower, she was barely cognizant of the fact that her hands had traveled southward until she was once again fingering herself, thumb rubbing lazily over her clit as her middle and index finger pumped a slow, steady rhythm, matching the memory of hers and Erik's earlier lovemaking.

Part of her brain vaguely recalled the promise she'd made to him about not pleasuring herself, but she quickly dismissed it, assuming he couldn't possibly be THAT controlling. Besides, she smiled wickedly, even if he DID 'punish' her for such a transgression, she had her safe word.

In fact, thinking about it now, it seemed she rather ENJOYED the fuzzy memories of most of his 'punishments.'

Those snakes - terrifying and ominous as they'd slithered over her body and sunk their tiny, pointed teeth into her most sensitive areas…

The sharp, sweet agony of the first time he had thrust into her, so harsh and painful, yet so sinfully exquisite...

The sting of the ice as it nipped at her skin and vagina - his hot tongue mixing and melding with the cubes to create waves of bliss and torment…

Even his heavy handed spanking and the way he'd forced her thumb into her mouth felt impossibly satisfying now, and Rogue's head fell back on her shoulders, her breathing ragged and heavy as she climaxed under the sensations all those memories created in her drug addled brain.

Momentarily forgetting where she was, she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth as she yelled out in ecstasy, riding the waves of pleasure. Then, before her orgasm had fully subsided, her balance began to sway under the dizzying side effects of the Swing still working its way through her system, and she reflexively reached out and grabbed the curtain to steady herself.

She barely realized the flimsy material had collapsed under her weight until she fell out of the tub. Her wrist took the brunt of the fall, and her hip, already littered with small oval bruises from Erik's rough fingers, smashed into the linoleum floor with a thud so loud anyone below her room would have definitely heard - if not felt - it.

But the dull pains didn't quite register as she lay sprawled and twisted in the shower curtain, turning to stare dumbfounded at the ceiling. Instead, the giddiness from the drugs and her still pulsing orgasm made her giggle hysterically.

She was so lost in the euphoric feelings of the X.D.M., in fact, that she wasn't even aware that her bathroom door had opened. It wasn't until she heard the rich, smooth tones of a familiar Cajun voice that she even fully realized what had happened.

"Chére?"

The giggling died in her throat as she looked up to see Remy standing in her bathroom with one hand over his eyes.

"I heard a crash an' cryin'. You okay? I swear I ain't peekin'."

Blushing madly, she swept the destroyed curtain over her body, trying to hide the evidence of her recent exploits moreso than her nakedness.

But when she looked up at Remy, his hand still plastered over his eyes and his brows furrowed in concern, she snorted and erupted again into a fit of giggles.

"Bon dieux," (Good Lord) Remy declared, dropping his hand to stare open mouthed at Rogue. "Are you DRUNK, girl?"

She managed to look indignant, a deep scowl settling on her face even as she blushed furiously and tried to pull her leg off the rim of the tub without further exposing herself.

"No!" she glared at him. Her dangling leg didn't quite want to cooperate, though, and her hip protested loudly as she tried to shift her weight away from his eyes. "Ah ain't drunk, Gambit, Ah'm just…"

She stopped short, realization settling over her features as she met his eyes, and she quickly averted her gaze. She couldn't tell him the TRUTH, of course, so she sighed and nodded instead.

"Okay, yeah," she sighed. "Ah'm drunk."

"Doux bébé Jésus," (Sweet baby Jesus) Remy swore under his breath and turned on his heel, leaving just as quickly as he'd entered.

Rogue lay against the tiles, twisted and trapped within the broken curtain, her wrist and hip now throbbing in pain, while white hot tears burned against her eyelids at his hasty departure. She refused to cry, dammit. She'd done more than enough crying for one day. And she had no RIGHT to cry over Remy leaving her, anyway. After all, hadn't SHE been the one to throw away any hope they had of a real relationship? Wasn't SHE the one who had left him, first?

But, as her lip quivered and she sniffled at both the literal and figurative loss of Gambit in her life, she saw his heavy black boots return to her line of sight as she lay with her reddened cheek against the cool tile.

Her gaze wandered upward and she realized he was holding her comforter in his arms.

Her heart leapt. He hadn't left her, after all.

"Tu vas être mon mort, ma colombe. Á quoi diable pensais-tu?!" (You're going to be the death of me, my dove. What the hell were you thinking?)

She winced at the harshness of his tone even as he laid the blanket completely over her body with extreme gentleness. Her brain was too muddled to fully understand his words, but she knew he had to be pretty pissed if he was reverting completely to French.

"J'ai juré de ne plus me faire ça," he muttered under his breath. (I swore I wouldn't do this to myself anymore). Aloud, however, he asked, "You hurt? Sounded like a nasty fall." He knelt down at her side and carefully plucked her leg off the edge of the tub with his gloved fingers, hiding the wayward limb under the fluffy green blanket. Then he reached through the spray of the shower to turn off the water.

Rogue screwed up her nose. Her wrist and hip were throbbing, but she didn't know how much she wanted to reveal to him. After all, if she admitted to any injuries he would likely, A) try to inspect them himself, or B) go get Hank.

Her face colored vividly. Neither option was acceptable. There was no way in HELL she would submit to an exam of any kind when she still had Erik's fingerprint bruises covering her hips and thighs. Not to mention the pretty heavy course of drugs still working through her blood.

She swallowed hard and shook her head lightly, hoping he would believe her.

"Can you stand?" Remy asked again, his voice filled once more with soft concern instead of anger and disbelief.

Rogue tried to push herself up, but as soon as her wrist made contact with the floor she winced, gasping.

"May I?" Remy asked, his Southern manners on full display as he gave her a charming smile. Even though he was just trying to be helpful, he still managed to make her weak in the knees.

She nodded, her ability to speak currently evading her brain. She was just glad the room wasn't spinning.

With utmost care - more so even than Erik had shown when he'd taken her to bed after their room service dinner - Remy tucked the blanket in around her before lifting her off the ground. He did it so effortlessly that it seemed as if she was made of the same featherlight material as her green comforter.

The Cajun sat Rogue on the edge of her bed, then stood at full height in front of her.

"Lemme see de wrist," he commanded. But his order wasn't harsh or fearsome like it often was with Magneto.

"Ah'm FINE, Gambit," Rogue insisted, pulling the comforter tighter around herself. She didn't want to risk him seeing anything that would raise suspicion.

He was clearly already skeptical, however, as he folded his arms stubbornly and raised an eyebrow at her. "Den why de hell did you disappear all damn day just t' turn up wasted, eh? Wolverine went out lookin' f'r you hours ago. How'd you even get home?"

Remy's eyes flashed with rising irritation and unease. She hadn't started screaming at him to get out yet, despite the fact she was naked under that blanket. Between her clear lack of coordination, her odd behavior, and her dilated eyes, he reckoned she was fully inebriated, and he was becoming more and more concerned about her choices throughout the day.

"Tell me you weren't stupid enough t' drive like dis, Rogue?!" His red irises flashed with outrage as she ignored his initial question.

"'Course not!" she hissed, finally meeting his eyes. But, she actually had to THINK about how she'd gotten home, which was a bit disquieting.

Oh yeah. NOW she remembered. Erik had flat out refused to let her be alone in her condition, and had ordered one of his female operatives - Emily? Amelia, maybe? - to drive her home. Magneto had introduced Rogue under the pseudonym of 'Gemma' to the older red haired woman as he'd tucked her into the backseat of the car. Amelia had seemed nice enough, but Rogue had slept throughout most of the hour-long drive, quelling any attempts at conversation.

"Ah took an Uber," the Mississippi native finally announced, lifting her chin smugly.

"Den why'd y'r CAR get here hours before YOU did?" Gambit bristled, his eyes narrowed.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Rogue recalled a brief conversation with Magneto about her cover story, including her car. She just couldn't for the life of her remember what it was.

"'Magine our s'prise when de tow truck comes honkin' at de gates wit' lil' Roguey's CAR, but no Roguey." The Cajun's arms were folded tightly over his chest as his red on black eyes bored into the top of her head.

Oh yeah. Realization dawned as she recalled what Erik had told her to repeat to the X-Men.

"Mah car broke down, so Ah called a tow truck. They said it'd take a few hours, so I went to a bar t' wait. Figured Ah could do a little reconnaissance of mah own since Ah had the opportunity." She narrowed her eyes right back at Remy, trying to sound as confident as possible under his intense stare.

"Y' mean t' tell me you went out diggin' f'r MORE info on dat B.S. story of Magneto's even AFTER ya saw dat video?! Que diable?! (what the hell)" Remy's eyes flashed dangerously, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He watched Rogue wince at his sudden temper and was unnerved by the way she dropped her eyes, her shoulders slumping almost apologetically. Normally she'd be up in arms by now, screaming right back at him, but it was as if all the fight had gone out of her.

Aggravated, he brought a hand up to run through his hair, and she actually flinched away from him as if he would hit her.

"Saprist, (~God's sakes), Rogue. What de hell is goin' on wit' you?!" He sat down next to her on the bed, noting how she adjusted the blanket slightly, but didn't try to move away from him even though his hip was pressed against her uninjured one.

"Why are you so determined t' believe MAGNETO of all people? I know he saved you from bein' beat up, chére, but dat don't mean…"

Her voice, quiet as the whisper of a butterfly's wings, interrupted him. "They tried to rape me, Remy."

Gambit's heart caught in his throat, and he couldn't suppress the muted gasp that escaped his lips. "Q-quoi? (what?)

She felt disconnected from her own words as she explained, her voice subdued. "They held me down, cut a hole in my nylons, and put on a condom. And Ah just laid there 'cause Ah couldn't even…" Her voice had been surprisingly steady up to this point, but it finally broke a little as a few tears escaped her eyes to cascade down her still flushed cheeks.

Timidly, Gambit put a hand over the comforter on her back, wanting to soothe her without her pulling away for once.

"Ah didn't believe it, even as it was happenin'. But then one guy was about to… and Ah finally screamed, and suddenly there was blood everywhere. Magneto was so angry - like rampaging Wolverine angry - and if he hadn't been there…"

Hot, heavy tears flowed from her eyes, contrasting sharply with the cold rivulets of water dripping down her back and neck from her limp, wet hair.

"And it's happenin' t' others. Ah KNOW it is. The Friends of Humanity are REAL, Gambit. And Ah just want to stop 'em. But no one…" Her voice cracked again, a heaving sob catching in her throat. "No one BELIEVES me, just because it was Magneto who saved me."

Regardless of the dangers, regardless of her many previous protests about being touched, regardless of their current 'off-again relationship,' Remy scooped her up in his arms to sit her in his lap, cradling her tightly to his chest in much the same way Erik had done earlier in the backseat of the car.

"Shh, shh, chére. I believe you, p'tite. I believe you."

A momentary stab of guilt lanced her heart, and broken sobs erupted from her chest as Remy rocked her, careful to keep the blanket tucked around her damp body. She'd done nothing but show him the rough side of her tongue as of late, and she felt terrible about how vapid she'd been towards him. Especially with as kind and considerate as he was trying to be despite her constant venom.

She wanted to repent her mistakes; wanted nothing more than to rekindle their former closeness. Her uninjured wrist somehow escaped the confines of both the plastic shower curtain and the green comforter, snaking out to grip the lapel on his brown trench coat. Pale, lithe fingers latched onto him, desperate for the warmth and comfort only Remy LeBeau could provide.

As much as Magneto was like the hot summer sun, boiling her insides and warming her skin with his touch, Remy was like the soothing spring rain, soaking into her very soul, breathing life and solace into every fiber of her being. He was invigorating and exasperating, *safety and warmth, love and sweetness, obscene thrill* and sinful temptation all wrapped into one unattainable package.

With the hand not clinging to him, Rogue carefully wiped her eyes, sorrow and regret taking hold of her heart even as the heat of his body - his hard, skillful muscles under her lap, and deft, talented fingers rubbing circles along her spine - sent streaks of unmatched desire through her body like lightning.

Her uninjured hand tugged slightly on Remy's lapel and she turned her face up to him, eyes falling closed as her lips sought his. She could feel the heat of his mouth, his breath catching as he leaned in, but in the next moment she felt not the soft warmth of his lips, but of firm, supple leather.

Her eyes opened, flicking from his red irises down to his hand, his middle and ring fingers encased in gloves as they pressed against her slightly parted, trembling lips.

"Non, chérie," he whispered, his voice harsh and grated, as if the very thought of rejecting her were painful. "Not now. Not like dis." His other arm tightened around her waist, softly stroking her injured hip over the comforter. He knew she would bolt the instant she felt the sting of his refusal, though he desperately wished she wouldn't.

"Yer drunk and ain't thinkin' clear, mon amour (my love)," Remy tried to explain, his own eyes clouded by the very same desire and longing he saw reflected in her green irises. His fingers left her lips and stroked along her jaw, encouraging her to meet his eyes. "And dis Cajun would never take advantage of une fille (a girl). 'Specially not you. If'n I kissed you now, you'd just regret it in de morning, and it'd break m' heart f'r you t' hate me more than ya already do."

Rogue's eyes widened, his words registering within a deeper part of her brain - the part where she'd made promises to Erik. Promises that her body, and the X.D.M., seemed determined to break.

"Oh Gawd," she paled, gasping at her own folly. Quickly, but carefully, she extracted herself from his lap, from his reassurance and empathy. She shifted on unsteady feet, simultaneously making sure to keep the blanket and curtain wrapped completely around her.

"Ah'm, Ah'm sorry. Y'r right. Ah ain't thinkin' straight." Her rising blush disappeared under the soft, sage green hues of the blanket, which contrasted sharply with the bright red of her cheeks and ears.

Remy sighed, but nodded and stood up from the bed, making his way to her door. He paused when he was within arms reach, however, and turned back to her, looking her up and down one more time.

"You sure y'r okay, chére?" The sting of his own rejection was overshadowed by the concern and uncertainty in his eyes, but only just.

"Ah'm fine, Remy," she replied automatically. She threw in a tiny smile for good measure, and he returned it with one of his own.

He nodded once and grabbed the door handle. "We'll talk t'morrrow den, when y'r feelin' a bit better."

"Sure, sugah." The words slid out of her mouth like they were born there, and Remy quirked an eyebrow.

She was a Mississippi girl, he knew, but in the nearly two years he'd known her, he'd never heard her bow so formally to her Southern upbringing. Never heard words that sounded so natural and flirtatious uttered from that beautiful mouth.

And, as much as the casual epithet sent a thrill of hope, desire, and amusement through him, it also gave him pause. He stared at her for a long moment, one hand still on the slightly open door, the light from her bedroom drifting into the darkened, mostly quiet hallway.

"Rogue, I …" he started, unsure how to put his thoughts into words.

"Thanks for yoh help," she cut him off with another small smile. "And Ah'd be much obliged if y'all would keep this between the two of us."

At his silent nod, she smiled again, more genuine and bright this time.

He opened his mouth, trying once again to articulate his worry for her, but she had sobered up significantly in the last two minutes, and seemed almost anxious for him to leave now.

"Goodnight, Gambit." Her tone was full of gratitude, but also finality, and he simply tipped an imaginary hat and took his leave, closing the door behind him.

~X~X~X~

That night, sinfully delicious, perverse images invaded Rogue's dreams. Dreams of both Erik AND Remy. Dreams of long, agile fingers as well as thick, calloused ones traveling her body. Dreams of their hands and mouths pleasing and teasing her pale skin and supple curves until her body was rippling with tendrils of fire. Erik's authoritative domination, and Remy's passionate tenderness conjoined into the most exquisite, torturous of visions.

Visions that left her writhing and gasping in her sleep until her body convulsed with REAL climax, the force of which woke her with violent tremors.

Her own moans invaded her ears even before her eyes had fully adjusted to the pre-dawn glimmer, and she was once again incredibly grateful that she had her own room. Her underwear was already soaked through, but she took advantage of the early hour and her short, black, spaghetti strap nightgown to further explore her own body and slake her need.

Closing her eyes, she tried to relive some of the most vivid images from her dream while her fingers sought further release.

Remy's hands on her breasts, his mouth on hers, tongues dueling, while Erik's lips and teeth sucked and nipped at her lower lips, sending her crashing over the waves of orgasmic pleasure.

For the second time, Rogue had to throw her hand over her mouth to stifle her groans and shouts as she thrust three fingers deep inside herself. Her insides coiled tightly, then snapped as she climaxed again, this time courtesy of her own growing boldness and tutelage.

Panting as her body pulsated, she wiped her fingers on her soiled nightgown and pulled the sheets down away from her legs. Her bedding would need to be washed. Again. She giggled slightly, but slapped her hand back over her mouth, eyes wide.

Was the X.D.M. still so heavily in her system that she was feeling such wanton lust and euphoria even now? How the hell would she explain THAT? It had been a stroke of luck that Remy had assumed she was drunk when she'd fallen out of the shower last night, but she certainly couldn't use the same excuse after a full night's sleep.

Climbing out of bed, Rogue winced as she put pressure on her left leg. A quick peek at the hip bone confirmed the damage - a large, dark purple bruise had bloomed overnight, mixing with those Erik's hands had created in some sort of macabre, abstract painting. She held up her left wrist, finally noticing the throbbing pain she had somehow missed while she was covering the sounds of her orgasm.

The joint was swollen, with purples and greens flourishing along the sides of her wrist and up towards her thumb. The Southerner bit her lip. She couldn't ask to borrow Wolverine's healing powers this time. Not when she was still saturated with X.D.M. Last time she had 'detoxed' with Wolverine's powers had been less than pleasant, to say the least. If she suddenly started seizing and vomiting it might raise a few eyebrows.

And it would DEFINITELY land her back in the Medbay.

Not to mention, Erik had warned her that absorbing Wolverine's powers might make the birth control pills she was taking effectively useless. She DEFINITELY didn't want a repeat of the emergency contraceptives.

With a sigh, Rogue hobbled to the bathroom and took another quick shower - sans curtain. There was no way she was going to face Logan while smelling of … that. Even within the privacy of her own bathroom she blushed wildly and couldn't help the goofy, satisfied smile that split her face.

The shower helped sober her, even if she had to towel dry the entire place afterwards from the water splashing and ricocheting all over. She could still feel that carefree happiness simmering in the back of her brain, smoothing out any anxiety or worry about what the others would say about her absence yesterday. She shrugged to herself as she dressed in a tight, long sleeve green blouse. It was a cold-shoulder style, leaving oval shaped holes around her upper arms, but fitting tightly around her collar and wrists.

Grabbing her black studded bracelet cuffs, she inspected every inch of bare skin, searching for any sign of bruises or hickeys Erik may have left on her otherwise pale and unmarred body. Memories of the teeth marks he had left on the underside of her breast nearly made her moan.

Dang it.

She made a last minute decision to grab a tampon to prevent leakage, then threw on her loosest pair of black pants. Her favorites - the ones Erik had bought her - needed to be washed. Again.

Rogue sighed as she took her soiled garments and bedding to the laundry room. At this rate she should take out stock in laundry detergent. She'd make herself rich in a month.

It wasn't even 6 a.m. yet, so there was still a good chance the kitchen would be empty and she could grab breakfast in peace and solitude. But, as she silently pushed open the door to the seemingly empty room, she had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing.

"Oh, uh, hey Jean," Rogue stammered. "Didn't think you'd be up already."

Jean looked up for a moment, then dropped her gaze immediately, staring into her tea as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

The redhead chuckled lightly as a tiny blush rose on her cheeks. "Yeah. I, uh, I couldn't sleep."

The southerner's eyebrow quirked a little at her teammate's odd behavior, but she simply shrugged and started a new pot of coffee.

The tension in the room grew as the silence between the two young women stretched on, and Rogue finally took a deep breath and turned, arms folded as she rested her lower back against the counter and waited for her coffee to finish brewing. Jean's back was to her, making the confrontation easier.

"Ya wanna talk about it?" Rogue's still damp hair stuck to her cheek, and she brushed it away, taking a moment to finger comb her locks. "Or just ignore the awkwardness?"

Jean snorted into her mug, but didn't turn. "I don't know. Do YOU?"

The Southerner paled, spine prickling. "What's THAT supposed ta mean?" she replied hotly, careful to keep her thoughts secured firmly in her own head.

"It means we BOTH need to work on our shields - although I'm not sure how to do that in our sleep."

Rogue couldn't stop the audible gasp that escaped her lips as her arms dropped and she stood abruptly. Her heart was suddenly thundering in her chest, her throat closing in terror. Even still, she tried to double down on her mental shields, unwilling to divulge any other incriminating thoughts.

"It's not details, if that helps," Jean replied softly, although Rogue could SWEAR she could hear the hint of a smile on the redhead's lips. "More like feelings. Sometimes flashes. But not really faces - although it doesn't take a telepath to guess. After all, Gambit IS attractive, and you two have been hot and cold for years." There was definitely a smirk of amusement in the other woman's tone now.

"Oh mah gawd." Rogue's face was nearly as red as Jean's hair as she covered the rising blush with her gloved hands. She heard the scraping of a chair as the telepath turned toward her.

"I know I'm probably the LAST person you want to talk to, but are you SURE you're okay, Rogue? Your emotions have been … pretty loud lately. And if *I* can feel it…"

The Southern swore a line of curses under her breath that certainly would have earned her a few punishments from…

Rogue felt the heat move from her face to other areas and Jean cleared her throat warningly.

"Oh Gawd, Ah'm sorry! Fuck!" She tried to bolt - wanted nothing more than to run from the room, from the mansion, probably from the entire city - but the redhead had stepped in front of her, effectively trapping her within the confines of the kitchen. She could have pushed past, of course, but her fear was so great she could only think to withdraw.

Matching pools of green met, interlocking for one brief, harrowing moment. But instead of judgment and disgust, Rogue saw only sympathy and understanding. Perhaps even a bit of her own hunger reflected back into her wide, terrified eyes.

"Relax, Rogue. It's FINE, really. Like I said, I didn't SEE anything, and we live with a bunch of teenage boys. Hormones aren't new to me." Jean smiled kindly as the Southerner danced back and forth on her feet like a caged animal, trapped as she was between the counters and the redhead.

The admission made Rogue pause for a moment, even though she was pretty sure she was going to throw up from the huge spike in anxiety.

"But it is new for YOU," the telepath continued, brows furrowed in concern. "Out of everyone in this school, you've always been the quietest - at least on THAT front - until last week." Jean took a step forward and Rogue immediately retreated, eyes wide and wild.

"And since you broke things off with Gambit, I can't help but wonder if that was the cause, or the result."

Swallowing back her fear, Rogue narrowed her eyes at the redhead, suddenly furious. "Never you mind! It ain't yoh business no how!"

"It is when your dreams are so intense they start affecting ME and MY hormones," Jean countered, a small smirk growing on her face. "And you're right; your emotions and problems AREN'T my business. But you are my friend, and I'm worried about you. Like I said, I've never felt anything this intense from you until recently, and with as much anxiety as it seems to be causing you…"

Rogue was quiet as she pressed herself as far into the corner of the intersecting counters as she could. She still wanted nothing more than to run from the room, but that would require getting CLOSER to the telepath, which seemed even more frightening than being trapped here with her.

Jean stayed quiet this time, knowing her southern teammate was trying to work things out in her head, formulating a careful response rather than reacting with her typical venomous retorts.

With a quick look to the doors, making sure no one else was around to eavesdrop, Rogue's gaze met the redhead's for a moment before she stared at something just past her teammate's ear. She took a deep breath, the air shuddering in her lungs and eyes pricking with emotion.

"Those drugs Ah got dosed with - Swing? They… they're laced with GHB. Ah've…" Good lord this was harder than she thought it would be. Her face was aflame with embarrassment even though she set her jaw stubbornly.

"Ah've always tried to ignore… You know… THOSE kinds of feelings." Rogue shrugged one shoulder, tension and vulnerability making her positively shake under her own self reflection. "Ah mean, what good would it do me? All it leads to is heartache and… frustration."

Her eyes flicked to Jean's face as she noted the small, sympathetic smile dart across the redhead's delicate features.

"I can only imagine," the telepath nodded in agreement. "Scott and I only recently started… you know." She blushed almost as red as her hair. "Before that it was like torture having all those feelings and … urges… without any way to really…" She chuckled lightly, trying to assuage some of her own embarrassment.

"Yeah, TELL me about it," Rogue grumped, folding her arms tighter across her chest. Jean's admission was still slightly uncomfortable - not to mention awkward - but at least it lessened her own anxiety.

"So I'm guessing the GHB in those drugs…?" Jean trailed off, trying to get Rogue talking again.

The Southerner shifted uncomfortably, putting all her weight on her left hip before wincing slightly and shifting back to the right. "Yeah. Eri - MAGNETO said it's also called X.D.M. - Sex Drug for Mutants..." She let the implication hang in the air, filling the uneasy silence with its heavy implications.

"It uh, it messed with mah head - and hormones - somethin' fierce, ta tell the truth. Got me wantin' all those things Ah couldn't - CAN'T - have with mah powers. Like it flipped on some kinda switch that Ah can't seem ta turn OFF."

She'd almost slipped. Almost insinuated that her isolation was now in the past tense. Almost let on that she was no longer completely and utterly 'untouchable'.

"Ah didn't realize Ah was projectin' so much," she chuckled, trying to assuage some of the tension. "Thought Ah was doin' pretty good at keepin' it under wraps, but apparently NOT." Her face colored darkly. "Sorry."

"Like I said," Jean stepped forward, and this time Rogue didn't bristle at her closeness. "I haven't seen anything too embarrassing. But I thought you should know that it's getting harder to ignore. As in, 'I'm about to jump Scott in the middle of a training session,' hard." A light pink dusted her cheeks at her own admission. "I'm not as disciplined as the Professor at shielding, but if it keeps up like this…"

This time BOTH girls blushed, but as they met each other's eyes, they each giggled at the mortifying thoughts.

"Oh Gawd, Ah can't even imagine," Rogue lamented, covering her face and shaking her head.

"Oh, *I* can," Jean's light pink cheeks turned crimson. "Right after our first time, the Professor called Scott and I into his office. We had to meet with him and Ororo about our… activities and the effect it had on the rest of the school. He had to explain to both of us that a telepath's shields aren't very reliable while…" She trailed off, averting her eyes and pursing her lips as she made an explosive gesture with her hands.

Rogue giggled, covering her mouth with her uninjured wrist. "When was…?"

The redhead still wouldn't meet Rogue's eyes as her blush rivaled her hair color. "Valentine's Day."

"Oh mah gawd, THAT'S what that was?!" Rogue chortled, momentarily forgetting to keep her volume down. "Ah thought the adults just wanted ta take us all out for ice cream ta keep an eye on everyone and their raging hormones."

Jean grimaced. "Well, yeah. That's true. It just, uh, it wasn't THEIR hormones causing the… raging."

Rogue snorted, both hands clasping over her mouth to try and spare Jean's feelings, but as soon as their eyes met, they were both erupting in laughter.

Before the giggling had a chance to die down, the kitchen door swung open, heralding Scott's arrival. The team leader quirked his eyebrow at the girl's red faces and subsiding giggles, and Rogue had to bite her lip. She couldn't even look at him as she imagined him and Jean sitting with Ororo and Xavier having 'The Talk.'

"What's so funny?" he asked casually as he came up behind Jean and wrapped an arm around her waist. He started to bend down to kiss her cheek, but clearly thought better of it as his eyes flicked to Rogue, who was biting her bottom lip so hard it looked painful. Instead, he gave Jean's hip a squeeze then let go, putting some distance between them for Rogue's sake.

The Southerner snorted softly. Watching the two of them together wasn't nearly as torturous as it had been even two weeks ago. In fact, with the traces of X.D.M. still saturating her brain with its sinful suggestions, she could practically imagine the two senior team members engaging in sweet, passionate…

Jean cleared her throat, startling Rogue from her thoughts and making her blush wildly. She turned away from the couple, grabbing a mug and filling it with hot water from the tea kettle Jean had left on the stove.

"Nothing, hun," the redhead replied, carefully squeezing Scott's hand while Rogue was otherwise occupied. "Just a little girl talk."

"That's nice, "The team leader said as he watched the two women. "Good for you guys."

Rogue almost laughed as she grabbed some chamomile tea in lieu of coffee. If Cyclops knew that their 'girl talk' had included his and Jean's Valentine's Day exploits, he might sound a little less enthusiastic about their bonding time.

A wicked grin formed on Rogue's face as she ducked her head and turned away from the couple to grab the sugar. She could tell Jean was still on edge from the emotions she'd picked up from Rogue's dreams (and possibly even her self-indulgent activity thereafter). She almost giggled at her own dastardly plan even as it formed, half baked, in her drug laced brain.

"So, uh, are there any Danger Room sessions scheduled for this morning?" The Southerner asked casually, still refusing to meet their eyes.

"Nope," Scott replied quickly, pouring himself a cup of the coffee Rogue had brewed and subsequently abandoned for something more soothing. "Not until this afternoon."

Rogue nodded silently, preoccupied with stirring her tea. "You two, uh, got any PLANS, then?" She almost couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice as she glanced up at Jean briefly.

The redhead had an eyebrow raised in her direction, trying to figure out what game the southerner was playing.

"I figure I'll go program some new simulations," Scott replied casually. "Maybe run a few exercises and get in a good workout. Access logs said Logan and Gambit only got in a few hours ago, so the Danger Room will be free for a while at least. How about you, Jean?"

"Hmm?" the telepath replied, only half listening as she tried to ferret out whatever Rogue was thinking. "Um, sure. Workout sounds good. I'll probably do some studying."

"Really?" Rogue asked, finally turning back to the redhead and giving her a wide, devilish smile. "What're you gonna study, sugah? Human anatomy, maybe?"

Jean blushed so hard that Rogue had to pretend to blow on her tea to keep from giggling.

"Ah think Ah'll see if anyone wants t' go out f'r breakfast," the southerner quipped, digging down into that part of her body that was still heavy with lust and need. "Maybe go out f'r ICE CREAM afterwards."

Mug in her right hand, Rogue made her way to the kitchen door, taking just a moment to let that wanton emotion fill her whole mind and body with delicious desire as Jean gaped after her. Then, with a single thought, the Southerner opened her consciousness, pushing all that pent up emotion and fervor toward the telepath.

"Have fun in the Danger Room you two," Rogue practically choked on her own words as she heard the redhead stifle a moan behind her.

"Jean?" Scott asked, concern lacing his voice as Rogue exited the room. "Are you -MMFFFHH!"

With that, Rogue closed her connection with the redhead and wondered if the couple would even make it out of the kitchen, let alone all the way to the Danger Room.

~X~X~X~

Erik Lensherr sighed as he ran weary fingers through his unkempt gray hair as the morning sun illuminated his untidy desk. It was only 9 a.m. on Saturday, but he'd been up for well over 30 hours now. After sending Rogue (or 'Gemma' as he'd called her) with Amelia Voght, he'd headed straight back to the compound to wait on status reports from his other Acolytes - most of whom were currently tracking the men Rogue had so deftly identified.

Details on each of the men came flowing in shortly after he'd returned to the base. Names, addresses, places of employment - even spouses and children's schools were quickly researched and shared through the Acolyte's network. Stakeouts were planned and shifts created to ensure they watched the men's every move. The two tracking devices Rogue had managed to plant proved invaluable.

Furthermore, his Acolyte Sven Kleinstock had called Magneto later that evening, informing him that Harker likely suspected a tail as he'd taken a series of strange turns and backtracking after leaving the second club. Because of the active tracking device, they had been able to call the Acolyte away, allowing the Friends of Humanity drug runner to resume his activities without suspicion. Harker had visited six more bars and clubs throughout the night, presumably to peddle his newest wares to others.

Not for the first time, Erik's pride in Rogue's accomplishments swelled within his breast, feeling very much like it would burst through his armored uniform. In a single night they had identified five new players, targeted 15 new potential establishments (Harker's 'Friends' had also gotten around that night), and gotten an address for a random warehouse location from Harker himself. It had been their most successful night yet, and it was all thanks to that enigmatic southern belle.

His fingers danced across the electronic keyboard of his phone.

"How are you?"

He made a point to keep his message vague in case some nosy X-Man picked up her phone, typing a quick, before putting the phone back down. There was a good chance she was either sleeping in, or embroiled in a training session, and probably wouldn't see or answer his message until later. He was therefore shocked when his phone dinged with a notification less than two minutes later.

Her blunt reply on the screen made him snort in an amused, yet most undignified way, as it caught him completely off guard.

"Horny."

Another followed closely thereafter.

"Dang but this stuff is potent."

Recovering from his initial shock, his lips curled into a small smile, and he delivered a quick retort.

"I hope you haven't disobeyed my command and … assisted yourself."

A momentary pause, as if she were considering her answer, then a reply that made his loins jump.

"Maybe… So what if I did?"

A wicked smirk accompanied his darkened eyes.

"Then you would need to be punished."

"…"

"Rogue?" When she didn't respond right away, he worried that his attempt at a playful threat had scared her off.

"What kind of punishment are we talking about?" She had included an emoji that looked like it was pondering a question, as well as a winky face, implying an impish, playful attitude toward his 'threat'.

He grinned widely.

"Something most severe, surely."

He quickly followed up with a second message. After all, he didn't want to frighten her.

"But not entirely … unpleasant."

Erik waited for her reply, watching as the three little dots on his screen told him she was typing.

"Promise?"

A thrill of electricity shot from his brain straight to his groin. If he was at all confused about her meaning, the little emoji character with its tongue sticking out and drooling was all the context he needed to convey her intent. She wasn't scared of his 'punishments.' Quite the opposite, from the sounds of it.

He considered how…mercurial…she was. From uncertain and demure to bold, impulsive, and brash. A streak of stubborn independence, but also an earnest desire to learn. A fierce need to protect, even while defending her attackers. And then a steely backbone, to allow herself to walk into the lion's den repeatedly. All for the betterment of their people.

'Well, not wholly for others benefit…' he reflected as he considered the text and its layered meanings. And now, for him, the same could be said. He, too, was no longer performing these activities for an only altruistic reason.

"How many times?" He typed, finally recovering from the shock of her implied eagerness.

"..."

This time the dots were her only reply, rather than an animated activity letting him know she was replying, and he felt his irritation rise along with his hardening dick.

"? Rogue…?"

Finally, a response.

"Two… And a half."

"Half?" he promptly texted back, confused.

"I had to answer your text… "

Erik roared outright with the hilarity of her confession. A deep, guttural laugh filling the spaces of his heart, mind, and …elsewhere. He imagined her blushing crimson at the admission, and the notion that she had literally been in the middle of pleasuring herself when she stopped to answer his messages gave him an immediate erection.

"Little minx." He typed a quick reply, then added a second one, his mind racing with sudden possibilities.

"Perhaps I should put you on video call so you can show me?"

He awaited her response, the tiny dots continuing to flash for nearly a minute before her next text flashed on the screen.

"That'd be hard to do, I can't use my left hand real well right now. Fell out of the shower last night and hurt my wrist. Hip too. Training is gonna be a nightmare."

A second text immediately followed.

"Stupid drugs," was accompanied by a red faced emoji with its mouth covered - presumably from cursing.

His erection was momentarily forgotten as a spike of concern replaced his desire. He did not want to admit how much it chafed that she was not here with him. From a strategic point, he had to ensure that his operative was strong and able-bodied. But in a darker, more…personal…possessive sense, he wanted to make certain she was well.

"Are you alright? Did you go see your Doctor McCoy?"

It took another minute for her next text to come through.

"He'd just call Logan, and I don't want to lie about why I can't absorb his healing factor. Plus, it's awkward. How do I explain that I fell out of my shower because I was masterbating and got dizzy?"

Erik sucked his teeth at that one. He'd created a monster, it seemed. The effects of the X.D.M. on her touch starved body making her nearly as insatiable as himself. He was reticent to admit it to her, to himself, but she inflamed him - both mind and body. He denied it, told himself it was just the thrill of this chase, and would eventually work itself out of his system. That his concern was for an operative, and a member of their genetic brotherhood. However, it all sounded false, even to his own mind, and irritated, he shoved those thoughts aside as he responded.

"Tell Logan you simply don't want his sordid and violent memories in your head keeping you up at night unless it's a dire emergency."

After a moment, he sent a follow up message. "What a shame you insist on staying with the X-Men. If you were here with me, I could have taken care of your… needs… without risk of injury. Or discovery."

There was a long pause this time, as if she was contemplating her answer. He knew his constant needling to join the Acolytes was a sore spot for her, and briefly wondered if he had overstepped. He nearly laughed out loud, however, when she finally did respond.

"If I'd been with you, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to sit for a week. I could ride you six ways from Sunday with as potent as this stuff is. Can't even imagine what a full dose would have done."

Another chuckle reverberated from his chest even as he shifted. His erection was becoming uncomfortable, and he tried to distract himself by gathering more facts from her instead.

"Any other symptoms?"

"Not a lot," she replied as the text came quickly. Then, after a longer pause, "Feeling pretty good, right now. Relaxed, but a bit wired, too. Like I've got loads of energy wanting out, but zero motivation. The silly giddy thing, too. Tiny bit fuzzy with some random dizzy spells. Mostly just horny though."

He smirked at her easy reference to her sexual appetite. "And clearly less reserved than usual."

"… Yeah. That too." She sent another winky face with its tongue out immediately thereafter.

Before he had a chance to respond, a knock at his door interrupted their conversation. Without looking up or acknowledging the interloper, he typed a quick, "I will check in again later. Delete these messages." Then he followed his own advice. Once all traces of their contact had been removed from the device, he beckoned the person on the other side of his door to enter.

~X~

Fabian Cortez frowned as the Acolyte Delgado entered the briefing room for their Saturday morning reconnoiter. They were there to share information before setting the afternoon and evening shifts out to tail their marks, and gather further intelligence. In the past three weeks their operations had expanded to the point that his sister Anne Marie was now busy coordinating all of the comings and goings between the three shifts. Her skills suited this job well, and with Francisco Milan assisting her with his electropathic powers, they'd managed to gather further intelligence thanks to this mysterious 'Gemma'.

But, at the same time Magneto now seemed oddly…distracted. Their meetings were convened with a sense of impatience, as if he were swiftly tiring of the very natural setbacks his Acolytes experienced. He was disappearing, sometimes for hours at a time, and only Voght or his sister seemed to receive messages from him until his return.

Cortez hated being kept out of the loop. He hated being the one to ask others for information - it set his teeth on edge. Even hated asking his sister, who never hid a thing from him. He had sworn to himself long ago to never be the penniless beggar when at the table of power.

"Delgado, what did Lord Magneto need? Did he tell you who this Gemma is? Her name seems to be on everyone's lips tonight."

"No, Cortez," the large, bald man replied, bowing his head in respect. "Lord Magneto told me -"

"- The same thing I told you, Cortez," Magneto's voice echoed through the room of his disciples as he entered wearing his full battle armor. "All you need to know is that between the two of us, Gemma and I managed to deliver last night's successes. She is not yet an Acolyte, but she serves us well and is as committed to bringing down the Friends of Humanity as any of you."

Gray blue eyes blazed with icy fire under his helmet as the Master of Magnetism gazed around the room, silencing the handful of Acolytes without another word.

"Anne Marie," he asked, his tone softening as he sat at the head of the metal table. "Status update. Have any of our other undercover agents had further success with their efforts?"

"No, my lord," the blue haired woman bowed her head, murmuring quietly. "Unuscione caught one, but Mastermind established that he was a new player - he knew next to nothing. We have still done as you asked and 'reprogrammed' him to become a spy. If he does manage to take a victim or move up the ranks, we will know."

Despite her impressive 6' 1" stature, Anne Marie Cortez was soft-spoken and humble; quite the opposite of her brother, Fabian. Her empathic abilities allowed her to mind control others, making her perfect for the new direction they were taking in regards to captured Friends of Humanity agents. The siblings had indeed become valuable assets to the Acolytes, even if Cortez was perhaps a little too eager to ingratiate himself to Magneto.

The leader of the Acolytes nodded absentmindedly. It wasn't nearly as impressive as the 'fish' he and Rogue had caught last night, but every little bit helped. It truly was a shame that the southern spitfire couldn't be persuaded to their side. Having an operative like her to scope out these seedy clubs and bars on a nightly basis would surely bring swift results.

"And I presume our male plants have had no bites as of yet?" the Master of Magnetism prompted her to continue.

"Not conclusively, my lord," Anne Marie reported. "Neophyte was definitely dosed, but his phase-shift abilities went haywire and Delgado brought him back to the compound before we could establish a perpetrator."

"Where is Mr. Hall now? If he has lost control of his abilities, he should be contained until he has regained his senses." Magneto's tone of irritation belied his underlying concern.

They had precious few operatives that could frequent the bars and clubs in disguise, and having another one laid up and unavailable would cost them valuable time and resources. Acolytes such as Senyaka and Delgato had mutations that should make them obvious, easy targets, but their presence generally created a scene before they could even order a drink. And they just didn't fit the M.O. of the typical targets.

But more importantly than that, he had an obligation to keep his people safe, and he genuinely cared for their wellbeing. He knew he should not indulge in such tender behaviors. Compassion and emotion meant weakness, and Magneto was anything but weak. Mutantkind demanded his unwavering strength and devotion.

"He is recovering in the hospital wing along with the others," Anne Marie answered.

"Sir," Fabian interrupted. "With the dwindling number of operatives and the increase in targets, perhaps my sister and I could be of service in the field? We are ourselves rather unremarkable and can easily pass for baseline while still maintaining our faculties under duress." Magneto's second in command did not even look to his sister for consent before offering themselves up as 'bait.'

The Master of Magnetism DID, however; casting his gaze upon the blue haired woman. He did not miss the paleness of her cheek or the tremor in her hand at such a suggestion. He knew what she had been through just four short months ago, as did her brother. Yet it was Magneto who dared not put her through such trials. He knew when to push his disciples and when to allow them autonomy and respite.

"No," Erik said simply. "I need you both here. Anne Marie's position is vital to enthralling the bigots we ensnare. And Cortez, your powers are best served by assisting your sister and Mastermind, as well as augmenting others whose powers are necessary to these operations."

"But, my Lord," Cortez argued.

A sharp look and a raised hand from Magneto silenced him.

"What of the five men we tagged with Paul Harker?" He slid into a new line of questioning - hopefully one that would bear more fruit.

Francisco Milan answered. "I have been able to use my abilities to catalog every known detail. We will plan to have them followed over the next week, then capture and 'reprogram' them one by one. We dare not move too quickly for fear of discovery, however."

"Are such fears well founded?" Magneto asked, straightening slightly as his blue eyes narrowed under his metal helmet.

At the opposite end of the table, Harlan Kleinstock grunted, nodding. "The tracker you put on Harker has a low quality microphone. It's picked up some chatter here and there. They're gettin' nervous. But they're real excited about this new injectable version. There was mention of a 'surprise preview' in Long Island last night. Lotsa talk about wantin' to do nasty things with some 'sweet little entree' they were hopin' would pop up at a drop off point."

Harlan shifted uncomfortably as he felt Magneto's rage-filled gaze fall upon him. "H-his words, not mine. My Lord." He raised his hands slightly, as if surrendering, even as he dropped his gaze.

"And the address I gave you, Senyaka?" Magneto simmered as he turned to the Sri Lankan native. "What have you found?"

"A warehouse in the Lower Bay district," the hulking man with bio-electric tentacles hissed. There has been no movement in or out of the building yet as we have perceived. One of the Kleinstocks is there now, keeping surveillance as you requested."

Magneto nodded. "Good. Very good. And what of those unfortunate souls found the other day? Have any of them been turned to our side?"

Anne Marie shook her head. "They were all Morlocks. None of the three have fully recovered, my lord, and they don't speak. There is little chance any of them shall join us. One we recovered is known as Healer. His condition is the worst of the three as it seems he used his abilities to keep his compatriots alive at the expense of his own health. The other two are called Plague and Piper; they beset disease and control animals with music, respectively."

The blue haired woman paused, casting a wary glance at her brother before looking back to Magneto. "Two of their rank are still missing - women they called Skids and Beautiful Dreamer. The first creates force fields, the second can alter memories."

"If they do not speak, how do you know this?" Senyaka sneered from the other end of the table.

"My empathy allows me to feel their thoughts. I have been able to communicate most effectively with Healer as he seems to be somewhat psychically inclined himself. He has strong feelings of loyalty towards his leaders - Calisto and Spyke - and wishes to be reunited with them as soon as possible."

At this, Magneto raised an eyebrow. He knew the young man once known as Evan Daniels had joined the Morlocks, but he had no idea he was now considered one of their leaders. It presented very interesting possibilities. Perhaps the Morlocks could yet be persuaded to work with the Acolytes.

"They will remain here for now. But I want word of their condition and our hospitality sent to their leaders, particularly Spyke. Make it clear that his people are our guests and are being treated with utmost care and respect - and see to it that remains a true statement." He looked to Cortez, making his meaning plain.

"Make Spyke aware of the situation with the Friends of Humanity and that we believe their missing members have been taken as part of the trafficking ring. With any luck they will join our mission to put an end to the human's subjugation of our kind."

He looked to Amelia Voght, who had been largely quiet. "I want that substance I gave you last night to be your top priority. If you must, stand over Millbury's shoulder until you get results." He pulled out a sealed envelope from somewhere within his cape and slid it across the table to her. "This information may be vital to his notes. First hand observations on the new injectable X.D.M. and its effects."

A stirring of whispers and shifting bodies swirled through the room as a small, smug smile grew on Magneto's face.

"Courtesy of Gemma."

~X~X~X~

As she'd predicted to Erik, Rogue struggled with training and workouts throughout the rest of the week. First, because her injuries from falling in the shower caused more pain than initially expected. So much so that she actually wondered if she'd somehow fractured the bones in her wrist. Thankfully, Gambit had kept quiet about it, even while simultaneously providing her with extra support and cover during sessions. He'd even made sure to partner with her for sparring practice and had carefully avoided her left flank, although Logan had chastised him for not taking advantage of her less dominant side.

Then, on Monday - three days after being injected with the X.D.M. - the initial effects FINALLY started wearing off completely, leaving Rogue feeling nauseated and jittery. That, combined with her constantly throbbing wrist and protesting hip, made her EXTRA grumpy and absolutely garbage during Danger Room sessions.

At least it was finally Thursday, just two more days until she could take a day off. Unfortunately they had an early morning 'make up' mission today that Scott had needed to reschedule.

For reasons unknown to everyone but Rogue, Scott and Jean had been… preoccupied… on Saturday afternoon during the previously scheduled Danger Room session. The knowledge that the young couple had gone at it for HOURS (thanks to Rogue's deliberate, lusty pushes in Jean's direction) almost made up for the fact they had to get up for this 5:00 a.m. session

Almost.

They were currently on their THIRD mission training, and her patience, as well as her pain tolerance, was wearing thin.

"Rogue!" Cyclops shouted from behind the cover of a building as a Sentinel rampaged down the street. "Come ON, move it!"

The entire team - Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, Jean, Gambit, Storm, and even Iceman were gathered together next to their leader on the other side of the street. Rogue, Nightcrawler, and Shadowcat had been tasked with rescuing and extricating the mutant 'targets' and bystanders in the area, while Gambit, Storm, and Iceman provided covers and diversions, using their offensive powers to slow down or directly attack the Sentinel.

Much to Rogue's ire, Kurt and Kitty had been assigned roughly TRIPLE the number of 'rescues,' as their powers allowed them to move swiftly. Rogue's powers afforded no such boon, particularly in simulated Danger Room sessions where her powers offered no advantage. In fact, unless one of her teammates let her 'borrow' their abilities out of free will - or got knocked out - she was effectively about as useless as the humans she was charged with evacuating.

Yep. She didn't even get the benefit of shepherding mutant victims. She had to deal with the ignorant homo sapiens. Homo Sapiens that she was sure Wolverine had programmed to be extra crotchety and hateful, just to piss her off.

Thankfully, she'd at least completed her task, ushering the last of the ungrateful bigots to safety while her teammates regrouped together across the wide expanse of a six lane street. She bit her lip to fight back the rage and hurt she felt. Even Wolfsbane and Multiple - young as they were - would have been given more strenuous objectives.

Taking a quick look at the otherwise occupied Sentinel down the street - Iceman had frozen its feet to the ground more than a hundred yards away - Rogue darted out from behind the car where she was hiding so they could complete the first portion of their THIRD mission parameters.

The pain radiating down in her hip slowed her pace, however, giving the robot the opportunity it needed.

"Mutant detected," the mechanical voice echoed through the empty streets. "Eliminating."

Rogue had enough time to glance at the red glow emanating from the Sentinel's outstretched arm, and gasp. The beam of light never reached her, however, as a large, solid mass suddenly barrelled into her, knocking her out of the way as the dark figure took the brunt of the blast that had been meant for her.

The force of the impact shoved her clear back across the street and she landed hard on her left side with a muted cry of pain. She could practically feel the bones in her wrist snap, but she was far more concerned with the unmoving body that had landed over fifty feet away down the wide road.

All she could see of the figure was a lightly smoldering, mangled brown trench coat.

"GAMBIT!" Rogue screamed, trying desperately to climb to her feet despite the pain. Her lower left half screamed in protest as she hobbled toward him, willing herself to move faster even as the concrete below her feet morphed back into metal. The world was spinning again, but whether it was from the residual drugs, the throbbing in her wrist and hip, or the soul-sucking terror for the Swamp Rat's condition, she didn't know.

"Remy!" The Southerner screamed again, injured wrist clutched to her chest. Nightcrawler was kneeling next to the Cajun long before she reached them, but she at least managed to arrive before the rest of the team.

Rogue dropped to her knees, gloved hand smoothing over the back of his smoking coat as she tried to put out any bits that were still burning. The acrid smell of scorched leather burned her nose, aggravating her growing nausea. Her ribcage convulsed and tightened, promising to suffocate her as her heart burned below her breast.

"Oh gawd, Remy!" she cried. Hot tears scorched her skin, leaving streaks down her too pale face. "Kurt," she gasped as her brother put his furry blue fingers against the Cajun's neck. "Is he?"

A rough, raspy voice answered before Nightcrawler could respond. "Still alive, chérie." A weak cough followed, but the upturned smirk playing at the corner of his mouth made her heart soar as he turned toward her slightly. "Don' worry y'r pretty head, none."

She could have kissed him if she hadn't been so furious.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" She railed, her right hand pummeling his shoulder with sudden ferocity. She only managed two or three good punches before Kurt reached across Gambit's prone form and captured her covered wrist in his hand.

"Rogue!" her brother cried, his face awash in shock and horror. "Vhat are you doing!? Gambit just SAVED you. He is INJURED!"

The southern spitfire glared daggers at Kurt and Remy, who both stared at her as if she'd turned green and grown ten times larger in size.

It was then she felt another pair of strong, austere arms wrap around her waist and gently drag her away, allowing Beast to take her place next to the wounded Cajun.

"Let go a'me, Wolverine!" Rogue screamed, her savage outrage earning her further looks of shock from her other teammates.

The Canadian dropped her unceremoniously, and her entire left side buckled, nearly bringing her to her knees.

Staggering on her feet, she whirled around to face him, eyes blazing with fury. "Don't TOUCH me," she growled menacingly, but Wolverine simply narrowed his eyes right back at her.

"Yer hurt, too, Stripes. Hank'll tend t' the Swamp Rat. Let me take care a' you." He extended one bare, insistent hand, offering up his powers for her to utilize.

Instead, Rogue took a limping step away, her uninjured hand clutching at the elbow of her left arm, simultaneously stabilizing the wounded appendage and protecting herself from his powers. "Don't. Touch. Me." she repeated, bright green eyes shining. The dangerous glint in her eyes was matched only by the sharp, stabbing tone in her voice.

"Rogue, don't be stupid, darlin'. Let me heal you," Wolverine insisted softly. Moving forward, he reached out for her, trying to brush his thick, calloused fingers across the soft, pale skin of her cheek.

Again the southerner stepped back, but this time she used her good hand to viciously swat his arm away. The back of her right wrist connected heavily with Wolverine's forearm, making her momentarily wince with pain. Her mentor stared at her, shocked, but advanced again, undeterred.

"BACK THE FUCK OFF, LOGAN!" She screamed, her voice echoing in the room and startling everyone.

Beast and Kurt were just helping Gambit to his feet, each of his arms wrapped around their necks for support, and they all paused to gape at her. Every pair of eyes stared, open mouthed and dumbstruck over her sudden outburst.

Rogue's face and eyes burned red, fully aware of everyone's attention on her. "Ah said Ah don't want y'r help!"

"Listen, kid -" Wolverine started, his ire rising along with his hackles.

"No YOU listen," she hissed, trying to keep her voice away from the many ears in the room, yet not caring if she did. "Ah'm DONE with y'r damn memories, and thoughts, and … urges." Her eyes flicked once in Jean's direction, making Wolverine's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "It's makin' me crazier than a soup sandwich, and Ah'm about fit ta POP! So if ya don't mind, Ah'll thank y'all ta keep y'r hands to yohself for a while. Ah'm hurtin', but Ah ain't DYIN'. So until that day comes, PLEASE, just don't TOUCH me."

She put her good hand up in the air and took another step back, forcing herself not to grimace at the pain radiating up through her leg with every movement. The intensity of 10 pairs of eyes on her was almost maddening, but she pushed down the swirling in her stomach and the burning behind her eyes as she hobbled toward the door. Rogue completely ignored Professor Xavier as he tried to stop her in the doorway, stalking past him as if he weren't even there. When she felt the agonizing push of his mind in hers, however, she turned her fury on him as well.

"NO!" she shouted, once again making everyone jump. "Stay the hell outta mah head! Ah don't wanna talk about it, Ah don't wanna do some stupid THERAPY, and Ah don't want y'r HELP. Just LEAVE ME ALONE - ALL OF YOU!"

Rogue stormed out the door, satisfied by the loud whoosh and click it made as it closed behind her. She only wished she could fly away down the corridor instead of limping on her extremely sore leg.

She started for the elevator as her rage melted away into guilt and remorse. She hadn't meant to fly off the handle like that. Hadn't meant to hit Gambit when she really just wanted to hug him. Hadn't meant to air Logan's dirty laundry in such a public setting. Hadn't meant to accuse the Professor, or scream like a crazed banshee.

But she had. And there was no way any simple apology would repair things with her teammates now - especially not Logan. When Magneto had suggested using Wolverine's unpleasant memories and thoughts as a cover for why she didn't want to absorb his healing powers, he hadn't intended for her to completely lose her shit in front of everyone.

Desperate, angry tears welled up in her eyes. Misery and shame gripped her heart like a vice and made her stomach do back flips.

Oh god, what had she done? She was going to get kicked off the team for sure now.

The nausea that had plagued her for the last few days seemed to expand and fill her entire being. She changed course away from the elevators and made a beeline toward the long abandoned underground dormitories and the tucked away bathrooms, praying that her teammates would give her some damn space for once.

Although, she mused as she locked the main door and hastily tottered toward a stall, the one person who was the most likely to come after her - the one who was most concerned about her well being, who actually, truly CARED - was now being sequestered in the Medbay; his least favorite place in the entire mansion.

Because of her.

Rogue didn't even make it to her knees before she was vomiting up what little breakfast she'd eaten before the training session. Her hip hurt too badly to bend over at such a punishing angle, but she didn't know if she'd be able to stand up again if she tried to kneel on the floor. The decision was made for her, however, as another violent round of vomiting made her grab both sides of the rim for support, and her left wrist buckled under the pressure.

Metal reverberated loudly as her shoulder slammed into the side of the stall and she landed hard on her knees, her right hand barely catching the porcelain rim of the toilet as she cried out in pain. Her left hip and wrist were on fire. She could practically feel them swelling as she tried to recover her equilibrium.

The Southerner pulled herself back onto her knees just in time to deposit what appeared to be ALL of last night's dinner into the toilet. The gagging and retching went on for several more minutes until at last she lay along her right arm, head hanging over the bowl as she wept silently.

~X~

By the time Rogue opened her eyes, both her legs and feet were long past numb and tingly. Somehow, she'd cried herself to sleep with her head practically in the toilet bowl, and the sheer mortification of just how low she'd fallen made her eyes burn with fresh tears.

UGH. She HAD to stop doing this. The crying thing was becoming increasingly overdone and she was positively sick of herself for being so emotional and unhinged. Crying was just so… out of CHARACTER for her. Screaming and yelling and hitting things, sure, but all this stupid boohooing about the shambles of her life?

Disgusting.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she forced herself to suck it up and be the bad ass freaking X-MAN she knew was still hiding somewhere behind this simpering facade.

Her stomach jolted anew as she carefully maneuvered her dead legs out from under her. Her hip was throbbing so badly now that she had to bite down hard on her lip to keep tears from leaking out of her eyes again.

Maybe taking a little of Wolverine's healing powers hadn't been such a bad idea…?

That was out of the question now, though. She'd be lucky if he'd ever even LOOK at her again, let alone let her borrow his powers. He might not help her even if she were actually dying after that tirade. The thought made her eyes sting again with tears, and she cursed under her breath at her own weakness. She'd have to apologize…at some point…

What she really needed right now was Erik. His warm embrace, his soothing words and comforting presence. His lips on her…

She was getting ahead of herself, Rogue realized with a blush. She needed to push all that down and just focus on one thing at a time. Baby steps. And right now, her first task was just to get off this damn - DANG - floor without puking or crying.

Everything from her thighs to her toes were tingling with unpleasant pin pricks as the blood slowly circulated back into her extremities. Her right hand and forearm had also fallen asleep along the toilet and she winced as she shook them out and fought another bout of nausea. She had to remember to text Erik with her latest symptoms - namely the nausea and vomiting and the emotional outbursts.

On the bright side, at least she didn't feel like a sexually charged pole dancer on E any more. She'd been in self-enforced isolation from Saturday through Tuesday after shamelessly flirting with Sam, Bobby, AND Gambit over the weekend. After Remy had accused her of sending him mixed signals on Saturday night, she'd finally locked herself in her room and refused to come out except when required for training.

And sparring with Gambit while under the effects of the scintillating X.D.M. had been pure hell. Watching his rippling muscles and the graceful way he moved was very much like watching a dirty movie. She'd been lucky he was actively watching out for her and pulling his punches, because he'd landed so many hits she would have resembled a black and blue pinata otherwise.

The pins and needles sensation had finally waned from her arm and legs, and Rogue slowly pulled herself to a stand, using her right leg and the toilet seat for leverage and support. Her wrist and leg hurt worse than ever now, sending excruciating shocks of pain through her body with every step. She forced herself to shuffle to the sink to wash her hands and face, and rinse her mouth a few times. It gave her time to think about her next move.

Baby steps, she reminded herself. One task at a time; tackle one embarrassing thought, only one problem and its solution before attempting another.

First step, Rogue admitted, was a pain killer. She was closest to the MedBay, but really didn't want to run into anyone. Guilt lanced her heart. She should probably go check on Remy, though. See if he was okay. Apologize for trying to beat him up right after he had just taken a hit meant for her.

Okay, first step painkiller.

Second step, check on Gambit.

She really didn't want to face him right now, though. She had no way of telling if she'd been passed out for 10 minutes, or two hours. So, check on Gambit, but preferably via Kitty or Bobby, who were less likely to give her the tenth degree about her bizarre behavior. But then they were likely to gossip about her disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes, and…

Ugh.

Another deep breath as she cupped her right hand and filled it with water, taking a moment to awkwardly splash her face while she kept her left hand cradled against her chest.

Baby steps. One thing at a time.

First, pain killers. Full stop. Once she could walk again without wanting to scream in pain, she would consider her next move.

She finally moved out of the bathroom, one literal step at a time, and stood outside the doors, glancing up and down the hallways and straining her ears for any sign of life. Biting her lip, Rogue moved her left leg and winced so hard her face almost stuck that way.

Okay, Medbay it was. With any luck, she could earn some sympathy points with Gambit for how much pain she was in.

But when she finally arrived, Remy was nowhere to be seen. In fact, she hadn't run into ANYONE, which was odd enough in its own respect.

Even Beast was missing from the Medbay, and for one panic-stricken moment, Rogue worried that Gambit's condition had been so severe they'd had to whisk him off to a better medical facility.

But there were empty packages of bandage wraps in the garbage, and an extra long blue hospital gown thrown on top in the dirty laundry bin. As far as she knew, no one else had been in the Medbay recently - at least not with bad enough injuries to need a gown.

Scuttling over to the counter where the pain killers were kept near the desktop computer, Rogue tried to open a cabinet and cursed under her breath. Of course everything was under lock and key. Hank wasn't dumb enough to keep prescription strength drugs within easy reach of a bunch of kids and teens. Tears burned the back of her eyes for what felt like the dozenth time, and she rubbed them away before they could take root.

She would just have to wait for Mr. McCoy to return. Hopefully soon.

A grunt of pain escaped her lips as she shifted her weight slightly and aggravated whatever was wrong with her hip. As she grasped the counter with her right hand, her fingers brushed a manila folder that had been tucked under the computer keyboard.

She slid it out, grateful for a distraction, and opened the folder.

X-Rays.

Four or five of them, to be exact. The top of the pictures read 'LeBeau, Remy. 6:44 a.m. Thur 06/27/23,' indicating they were from this morning. Although, she still had no idea how long ago that had been. Hank didn't keep clocks in the Medbay because it made the patients anxious to know how long (or how much longer) they were stuck there.

Rogue studied the images, which had been taken of Remy's back and ribs. A section on one of the pictures had been circled, and she squinted to see a few tiny lines on two of the ribs along his back and side.

The blast had been bad enough that he'd cracked some ribs? And then she had pummeled him to boot. Great. Some friend she was.

"You know those are confidential, don't you?"

The unexpected voice, though friendly, made Rogue jump, and she whirled around instinctively. The action immediately sent shockwaves of agony through her entire leg and up into her spine, and she had to suppress a shout of pain. She couldn't help the way her face twisted and contorted, however, or her quick, gasping breaths thereafter. She tried to mask it by putting the folder back down, but her left hand refused to cooperate - she couldn't even hold the paper with her broken hand.

"Oh dear," Beast muttered as he crossed the room in a few easy strides. "It appears your injuries were far worse than we suspected."

Rogue managed to keep from uttering a biting retort of 'Gee, ya think?', but only just.

"Where are you hurt, Rogue?" Mr. McCoy kept his voice even and professional, although she could tell there was a hint of reproach in his eyes as he looked her over.

"M-mah left wrist and hip. Musta landed wrong."

"MmHm," the blue furred scientist murmured, one brow raised skeptically as he helped her to the nearest examination table, watching every gingerly step and wince. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with how much you've been favoring it this last week."

She gulped and blushed. Damn. And here she'd thought she'd hidden it well.

"Suppose it mighta," she admitted at last.

"And do you care to share HOW you obtained the initial injury?" The teacher smirked, picking up her left hand before frowning at the sheer size of the swollen joint.

"Ah fell," she deadpanned.

This time Beast didn't respond with anything more than a snort as he tried to determine if he could safely remove her glove.

With a sigh, he walked to the cabinet and punched in a code underneath, allowing the door to pop open. He grabbed a bottle of prescription strength painkillers and then donned a pair of the extra large, specially made latex gloves.

"Here," he said, handing her two pills. "This will help with the pain. You're going to need X-Rays too, and it probably won't be pleasant from how much swelling and pain you seem to have."

She swallowed the painkillers dry and Beast grabbed a pair of medical scissors from a sterile bag waiting on his surgical tray. He always kept the Medbay well stocked and prepared in case of emergencies.

"I don't dare risk further injuring your hand by removing your glove the conventional way," he explained as she sighed, dejected. "As swollen as the joint is, any tugging could exacerbate the problem."

He snapped the scissors open and closed a few times for emphasis and bid her to hold out her arm as he cut away the fabric.

"I recommend you refrain from wearing gloves of any kind for a few days, at least. You'll certainly need a soft cast, even if the wrist miraculously isn't broken."

Another derisive snort. "Suppose it serves me right."

This time Mr. McCoy huffed in amused agreement. He clearly wanted to broach the subject of her earlier outburst, but was gratefully silent about it.

"I'd like to have you put on a gown, but that could be tricky by yourself, and the other female members of our team are otherwise engaged at the moment. So for now we'll stick with X-Rays and see where that takes us, hmm?"

He smiled widely, a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Rogue barely held back tears of gratitude for his kindness and understanding.

She had feared that everyone would either berate her for her outburst, try to make her 'talk about it', or just walk on eggshells around her, yet Beast was trying very hard to pretend nothing had even happened; he was even reassuring and empathetic without being insufferable.

Suddenly the warm, comforting hand on her shoulder didn't feel adequate enough, and she bit back tears as the loneliness of her powers prevented her from giving him the hug she so desperately wanted to share.

He seemed to sense her sudden desolation, however, and grabbed his lab coat from a nearby chair to fling over his furry left shoulder. The gesture was both casual and encouraging, allowing her to decide if she wanted to initiate further contact.

And she did. Immensely.

Careful to keep her bare, broken hand away from his fur, Rogue leaned in and gently rested her left cheek over the fabric covering his large shoulder, face turned away from him as her curtain of hair fell to protect his neck from her skin.

His massive paw reached behind her back to pull her close, giving her as big of a 'bear hug' as he dared while her right, still gloved hand snaked under his arm to do the same.

"Thanks Mr. McCoy," she whispered, pulling away and discretely wiping away a few rogue tears.

"A gem cannot be perfected without friction, nor a man perfected without trials - Lucias Seneca. We're all learning together my friend. This, too, shall pass, hmm? And please, you're no longer a student, Rogue; you may call me Henry or Hank."

"Hank has a nice ring to it," she admitted, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Guess Ah could call ya that."

"So long as you don't call me late for dinner," he quipped, eviscerating any remaining tension in the room with a cheesy dad joke.

Rogue chuckled, shaking her head even as she smiled brightly at him.

"Might could do," she joked back. The southern colloquialism slipped as easily from her lips as his many situational quotes, and the two shared a quiet moment of camaraderie.

"Well," Hank asked, a hint of sympathy behind his blue eyes. "Let's get on with the hard part, shall we?"

~X~

Around an hour later, as the time approached 9:30 a.m. (apparently she'd spent almost two hours in the bathroom), Rogue left the Medbay even more mortified than she had prior to entering. Not because of her interactions with Mr - HANK - however. Their banter and conversation had been light. He'd even made her giggle a few times with some well timed jokes and levity despite the awkward angles and painful positioning the X-Rays had required.

No, her embarrassment currently stemmed from a much more literal problem. Not only was she wearing the promised wrist brace, but she also had a literal SCOOTER she was forced to use to move around with.

She'd been very, very wrong. Any negative side effects from absorbing Logan's powers would have been far more welcome than the awkwardness of this stupid scooter. Her left knee sat on a long bench attached to the three wheeled device, allowing her to 'walk' with her right leg while her left hip was more or less immobilized, helping keep her weight off it. Plus she had a hip brace wrapped around her waist and left thigh that she had to wear almost 24/7. She looked utterly ridiculous riding around on this thing, and she was already considering abandoning it in a dark closet somewhere.

But, as Hank had explained, she had a broken wrist AND something he called 'bursitis' in her hip. Meaning she'd injured her hip and socket, and the only 'cure' was either Logan's powers or staying off it. And unless she wanted to be relegated to complete bed rest for the next few weeks, well…

Scooter it would have to be.

Hank had also been concerned about some kind of potential 'labral tear,' which would have required an MRI and actual anesthetic sedation to diagnose. Gratefully, he'd acquiesced to her pleas to wait and see if the scooter and 'rest' helped her heal first. After all, as he'd explained, a labral tear was generally only improved with rest and immobility - just the same as the bursitis - so she could probably kill two birds with one stone by using the silly knee scooter.

Worse than the hip injury, the broken wrist, and the mortifying scooter, however, was that she was effectively benched AGAIN. For the second time in less than two weeks. And, while many of her teammates would have relished the abundant time off, Rogue was NOT one of them. She hated being idle. Hated feeling useless.

She was actually rather grateful she'd put herself through such a harrowing experience last Friday, because at least now Erik and the Acolytes were putting her efforts to good use. It made her feel like her current injuries hadn't been completely in vain. Like her current ineffectiveness was somehow balanced by her prior accomplishments.

Even the X-Men's refusal to believe her claims about the Friends of Humanity seemed less offensive now that she had managed to provide Magneto with some real progress. He'd checked in with her several times this week, asking how she was feeling from the X.D.M. as it slowly left her system, and she'd tried to be as clinical and objective as possible with her observations.

Their text conversations had gone off the rails at least twice, though - mostly while the drugs were still heavily saturating her system. She wouldn't exactly call it phone sex, but detailing her vivid dreams (at least those that only included him), and her exact physiological … urges …, had inevitably led to more invasive and lewd questions on his part. Regardless, he often mentioned the promised 'punishment' he would give her once they were reunited, but he had not yet reissued the edict of not touching herself either.

Honestly, Rogue wasn't sure what she dreaded more - being stuck on another, LONGER medical leave from the X-Men, facing the stares and questions from the students and her teammates about her current injuries (and why she refused to absorb Wolverine), or telling Erik that it would likely be at least four long weeks before she was healed enough to engage in their … ENTHUSIASTIC activities.

She pondered the different scenarios and came to the conclusion that explaining to Erik that he would have to wait over a month to deliver the 'punishment' he was so eager about was definitely the worst part of all this.

She still had to apologize to Remy and Logan, of course, but Hank had told her the two men had agreed to a last minute, 'Top Secret' mission from Xavier. Even though Gambit had two cracked ribs, and should - by all rights - be regaled to the 'injured' list as well, the Cajun had hastily taken the job without so much as batting an eye.

So now, with her soft black wrist cast and her ridiculous knee scooter and hip brace, Rogue was on her way to her next mortifying experience.

A one-on-one meeting with Professor Xavier.

A meeting that could very well completely end her career as an X-Man.

~X~X~X~X~X~

* Excerpt 'borrowed' from Eileen Blazer's "A Kiss is Just a Kiss," which was short and sweet and so full of ROMY goodness. "...it is a marvel, a wonder, a fucking natural phenomenon, that Remy can be safety and warmth and love and sweetness, and also such an obscene thrill, lightning straight through her body."

Seriously. Go read it (at least if you're a ROMY fan) -

/works/48935215 Eileen Blazer (A Kiss is Just a Kiss)