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Season of Giving	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 5139 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or universe of X-Men: Evolution; Marvel does. I make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Regifting
- Handjob, Fingering

After Rogue’s surprise visit, I don’t see her again for over a week. Somehow, despite the two of us being the only students at the Mansion, she manages to avoid me completely. Mostly, I know, she’s holed up in her room, a refuge I have no desire to impinge upon. Still, I want to talk to her about what happened that night, what it might mean for us going forward. If anything.
The memory of what we did that night lodges in my consciousness. My teenage-boy brain just won’t let it go. Each night I relive the experience while jerking off, sometimes fantasizing about how things might’ve gone if she and I could safely touch each other. Rogue wasn’t wrong about making a major contribution to my “spank bank”; I wonder if she’s in the same boat. I kinda hope so.
The Prof hosts dinner on New Year’s Eve each year; in the past, it was just he and I attending, since Logan would always just… vanish. Last year, Rogue joined us, so I’ve been hopeful to see her again this year. My hopes are fulfilled, but we have a hard time making eye contact throughout dinner, especially with the Prof and Mr. McCoy sitting with us, discussing… something related to philosophy, though I can’t really follow their conversation.
As dinner winds down, the Professor looks back and forth between me and Rogue. We fidget under that penetrating gaze, praying he’s not divining the reason for our silence thus far. “Would you two mind washing dishes tonight?” he finally asks, causing us both to jump a little. “Hank and I would like to continue our debate over consequentialist ethics.”
“Yes, sir,” we answer. I think both of us mumbled, really.
“Thank you. By the way, curfew is suspended for this evening, since it’s a special occasion. Please don’t stay up too late,” he adds as he wheels out of the room, Mr. McCoy just behind him.
Rogue and I clear off the table and run the water until it’s warm enough. I put on some latex gloves while she swaps her cloth ones for a more water-friendly pair from the same box. Without a word, we settle into a rhythm; she washes while I dry.
Eventually, the inevitable happens – our hands brush against each other during dish handoff. Our eyes meet. Not for the first time, I wonder if people find it unnerving or disconcerting that they can’t see my eyes while I can see theirs. Rogue’s tongue peeks out from between her lips, pulling my focus back to the present.
“Ah shouldn’t have done that,” Rogue blurts.
“Don’t worry; it’s safe with the gloves on,” I reassure her.
“You know what Ah mean,” she replies, rolling her gorgeous eyes. “What we did. Ah can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”
That’s a relief. “Me neither,” I reply with a smile.
“It hurts to think about… what Ah coulda done,” Rogue whispers. She stares at me with the most doleful expression I’ve ever seen her wear. I’m not sure if she means “if we could touch” or “if we couldn’t but did anyway.” My heart aches the longer she looks at me like this.
“Do you regret it?” I ask, focusing on drying the plate she’d handed me.
She doesn’t answer for a long, agonizing moment, which hurts a lot more than I’d expected it might. Finally, out of the corner of my eye, I see her shake her head. A small, embarrassed smile plays across her full lips. “It was… the best naht o’ mah lahf.”
On impulse, I reach into the water for her hand. She gasps when I take it, but I surprise her further when I lift the soapy latex to my lips and kiss it. Not my smartest move – now I have soapy dish-water all over my lips. The taste is horrendous. This is why I don’t act on impulse, I remind myself: it doesn’t end well.
Rogue laughs. “Smooth, Summers, but ya won’t get far makin’ faces lahk that,” she teases me. She even mimics my disgusted expression, which gets a laugh from me.
For long moments, we stare at each other, our faces inching closer and closer together inexorably. Her warm breath bathes my lips, a reminder or warning of just how close we are, a siren’s song beckoning me closer still. I can’t help but think how wonderful it’d be to kiss Rogue, long and full on the lips; or push her against the counter, pull down her pants, and penetrate her right here in the kitchen.
The clatter and splash of the plate Rogue drops into the sink startles us out of the moment entirely. We jerk backward, and Rogue pulls her hand from mine as if burned. She swallows and asks in a shaky voice, “Whah are ya doin’ this, Scott?”
“Doing what?” I wonder, wanting clarification.
“Givin’ me hope. It hurts to hope,” she explains. The light glinting from her eyes suggests she’s holding back tears.
We finish washing dishes while I formulate a response. After I put the last glass in the drainer, I put my now-gloveless hand on Rogue’s shoulder, which startles her into eye contact. I take it as a good sign that she doesn’t flinch or shy away from me.
“As a leader, I ought to inspire hope,” I half-joke. “As your friend, I can’t stand to see you so sad. Beyond that…” I trail off and clear my throat. I can’t quite bring myself to tell her how I feel at this moment; it’d feel too impulsive to do so.
Rogue chews her luscious lip; I really, really wanna kiss her right now. “Do ya… Ah mean, Ah’d lahk it if… we watched the ball drop together,” she finally manages to ask me.
I smile. “Sounds like fun. We’ve got a few hours to kill first. Game room?”
“Ah’ll meet ya down there in a few. Ah gotta change into mah pajamas first,” she replies. With a knowing smirk, she adds, “Mah real ones – Ah don’t sleep in that slinky robe. Or the buff.”
I can’t help but laugh, though I feel my face heat up as I think that’s a bit… disappointing. I need to dress for bed as well, so we part ways for the moment. There’s a bit of an alien lightness to my step as I head to my room, most definitely due to having spoken with Rogue and cleared the air a little.
What now, though? The obstacles to any relationship with Rogue remain the same as before: we can’t touch each other directly; the other students would annoy or even interfere, some more so than others; the teachers would likely object, for fear of an accident with Rogue’s powers. Think, Summers – you’re pretty good at analyzing obstacles and devising plans to overcome them…
Wait. Did I just say “relationship with Rogue”? When did I decide that’s what I want?
I mull that over, all the way down to the game room. It’s frustrating that I can’t pinpoint the moment of realization, but the fact remains that I want to see where this thing with Rogue ends up. Spontaneity and improvisation are my weakest points, though – probably why I suck at this whole romance thing. It’s definitely why I felt so at sea when Rogue visited my room that night; she kept me off-balance pretty much start to finish.
I smile at the memory. Maybe Rogue’s more impulsive – tightly-reined impulses, to be sure, due to her deadly touch. But a lot of what happened that night was her idea. With a tight smile to myself, I set up a chessboard for us; I want to get a better feel for her.
Bad choice of words.
When she arrives, Rogue’s wearing a long-sleeved black tee bearing the logo of some metal band – I know she listens to them, but the name escapes me right now – long fuzzy pants with multi-colored skull-and-crossbones motif, socks, and gloves. I try not to stare at her spectacular rack, but I get a good enough look that I don’t think she’s wearing a bra.
Rogue saunters over to the table, a knowing smirk on her lips. Gliding into the chair across from me, she picks up the white knight (king’s side) and makes the first move, Nf3. “Ah got a weakness fer whaht knahts,” she comments airily.
We spend the next few hours on the game, but I’m only half paying attention. I’m much more interested in studying the girl across from me than I am the chessboard. Rogue’s focused totally on the game, her mouth – those kissable lips – pursed into a tight line of concentration. Her eyes sweep the board, and it’s clear she’s calculating angles of attack. Not for the first time, I wish, desperately, that I could see the true hue of her eyes, her hair, her lips, her skin; but my perceptions, more literally than anyone else’s I know, are colored by my circumstances.
As I predicted, Rogue proves an unorthodox, and therefore challenging, opponent. She utilizes a two-knights opening and proceeds to send them across or into my pawn structure, wreaking havoc in hit-and-run raids. I can’t help but note the appropriateness of a Southerner following the cavalry doctrines of Confederate general Nathan Bedford Forrest. By the time I neutralize her knights, she’s built up a significant material and positional advantage, as well as finding an opportunity to castle – queenside, another marker of unorthodox strategy.
I’ve been playing chess since the orphanage, where I used a special chess set with slightly-raised “dark” tiles and holes in all the squares for pegs which protruded from the pieces. The Professor taught me some of the advanced stuff, as well as the general concept of playing games against people to understand how they think; he told me he used to play against Magneto, a long time ago when they were friends. Ever since Mr. McCoy moved in, he’s become another regular opponent, when he’s not too busy with the younger students. He and the Prof are both teachers, though, so it’s nice to have someone my age, a friend, to play with. Rogue’s a fine chess player, and I mean that in both senses of the word “fine.”
Ultimately, the best I can do is force a stalemate. I look forward to a rematch, and tell Rogue as much.
She just smiles and replies, “Another tahm, sugah – it’s 11:30 now. That game took longer’n Ah thought.”
“Good point,” I reply after checking the clock on the wall to confirm the time. “I guess we should move to that huge TV the other guys use to play video games,” I suggest, chucking my thumb at it… and the plush couch in front of it.
We settle in on the soft sofa together, simultaneously just close enough and just far enough to be uncomfortable. I flip to the channel with the least-obnoxious New Year’s Eve hosts, and we spend much of the next half-hour mocking them mercilessly for their lameness. Little by little, we scoot closer, until Rogue’s head rests on my shoulder and our hands lie clasped with fingers intertwined.
The fabric of her gloves is quite soft – a thin jersey, perhaps – and I can smell the faint scent of her shampoo. Nothing overly fruity or floral; just a fresh, clean, crisp aroma. Even through our clothes, her warmth, her closeness, call to me on a deep, primal level, causing me to think certain thoughts and want certain things and triggering the response of a certain part of my anatomy. I hope Rogue doesn’t notice.
“That a remote in your pocket, sugah, or are ya just happy t’ see me?” Rogue teases, demonstrating that she has, in fact, noticed.
“S-Sorry,” I stammer. “I’m, uh, not used to this kind of thing.”
“Me neither,” replies Rogue. “Don’t be embarrassed. Ah’m flattered…”
“Thirty seconds!” the announcers on TV declare as the ball starts to descend at a glacial pace, mercifully interrupting that conversation.
Rogue and I start counting down out loud when the timer reaches ten seconds. I feel her clasp my hand just a little tighter at five. We turn to look at each other at three. My heart pounds deafeningly in my ears.
Two…
One…
“Happy New Year!” everyone on TV bellows.
I start to say the same, but Rogue interjects by darting in to kiss me right on the lips. The contact is fleeting, at best, but it stops me dead in my tracks mid-sentence. My lips tingle from the hurried meeting with hers and yearn for more – a more thorough dialogue, perhaps. For a brief, terrifying moment, I can’t quite make myself breathe.
Rogue smiles at me shyly. “Your first kiss too, huh? Lucky me.” Her expression falters. “Ah reckon Ah… shouldn’ta done that. Just a tease fer us both…”
I don’t know what to say, so I kiss her hand through her glove again. Rogue giggles and gazes at me – affectionately, if I’m reading her correctly right now. A mischievous twinkle kindles in her eye – or is that my power manifesting? If so, that would be exceedingly bad. Before I can ask, though, she plants my hand on her left breast.
“Reckon we gotta skip first base,” Rogue informs me with a sly wiggle of her eyebrow.
My brain short-circuits at this point. I’m touching one of Rogue’s boobs. It’s surprisingly warm, not to mention soft – squishy, in fact. It feels really great – really, really great. Awesome. This is ridiculously awesome, touching one of Rogue’s boobs. They were ridiculously awesome to see, too, but touching is much awesomer. Is that a word?
Rogue’s delighted gasp kicks my brain back into gear. I glance down to see her hand guiding mine in the process of feeling her up. She lets out a soft moan when I start to squeeze and fondle of my own accord. Oddly enough, her breast feels a lot like an oversized stress ball.
I think I prefer squeezing this, however.
Gingerly I reach for the other. Rogue rewards me with another gasp, and her eyes roll back until they close. She mutters my name in a way that sends a shiver right up my spine and makes me want to find new methods to elicit such sensual utterances. I squeeze a little more firmly, drawing forth a sexy whimper.
“Nnn-Nipples,” she urges, leaning forward into my touch. “Please… play with ‘em. Ah… caught ya starin’ earlier, so… ya know Ah ain’t wearin’ a bra.”
Embarrassed at having been caught, I laugh. I thought I’d been at least a little less obvious than that. Oh well. I stroke the tips protruding through the fabric of her shirt, and Rogue’s mouth falls open at the feeling.
“You’re beautiful, Rogue. I… like seeing you this way,” I try to explain.
“Turned on?” she supplies, amending to “Horny?”
I find the word I’m looking for: “Unguarded.”
Rogue moans softly. “Feels wonderful,” she whispers. “It’s more’n Ah thought Ah’d ever get… ‘specially from you, Scott.” It’s cute how her already-sexy accent thickens in direct proportion to the pleasure she’s feeling.
I barely muffle a noise of surprise when I feel Rogue’s hand mapping the contours of the bulge in my pajama pants. Her touch is gentle, curious, tentative as she moves from balls to shaft to tip and back down. She wraps her hand partway around and gives me a tug, then another, before returning to a more open-handed petting. “Oh mah Gawd,” she breathes, “Ah can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Do you… wanna stop?” I ask, as earnestly as I can manage. I don’t want to, of course, but it’d be crass to pressure her. After all, this is essentially one big tease for us both…
“No way, sugah. In fact, Ah want more,” Rogue pleads, “so much more. Ah’m greedy, Scott. Ah want everything Ah can get whahl Ah gotta chance.”
I chuckle. I can respect that sentiment. We’d never get away with what we’re doing right here, right now, if we weren’t the only students at the Mansion. I estimate that we’d have been interrupted roughly a dozen times by this point if the others were all here… to say nothing of the reactions of the particular persons interrupting.
Reluctantly, I release my hold on Rogue’s bosom. A look of disappointment paints her features, which I meet with a smile as I reach into my pocket. I put on a pair of thin latex gloves I’d grabbed earlier, snapping them carefully into place so they don’t tear. I reach up to stroke Rogue’s cheek; her eyes widen at the contact.
Finally, she nuzzles my hand. “Clever,” she compliments me with a smirk. “Ah don’t much care for the latex smell, but Ah’ll deal.”
“Let’s move off the sofa for now,” I suggest. “More room.”
We lower ourselves from cushion to floor and, after some jostling in search of something comfortable, settle with my back against the couch and her back against my chest. More importantly, Rogue’s sculpted rump bumps against my groin, and both our legs stretch out in an open V-shape. Our hands rest, for the moment, on each other’s thighs.
I slide my hands along the firm flesh of Rogue’s powerful legs. Panting, she rests her head backward on my collarbone. My hands snake along her hips to her stomach.
God, that disappointed whimper she just made when I bypassed her groin was sexy as hell. So is the startled gasp and shiver when I stroke her stomach underneath the shirt. I can feel her tight abs contract at my touch, feel her lowest ribs beneath my fingers shift up and down with each breath, feel her hips rock when I sneak my fingers below the waistband of her panties. Rogue grinds her rear – her succulent ass – against my hard-on, driving me wild also. Even through the latex, her skin is deliciously warm.
“Don’t tease me, sugah,” Rogue begs in a breathy voice that causes my cock to twitch. “Touch somethin’.”
My hands slide into place, cupping her tits as if my hands were substituting for a bra. My fingers explore the subtle pebbled texture of the nipples, a texture I find fascinatingly erotic. I test the feel of her breasts with my thumbs, as well as full-fledged squeezing; they really do remind me of oversized stress balls. Fondling these things is rapidly becoming addictive.
“Oh mah Gawd, Scott!” Rogue moans.
“Too rough?” I worry.
“Nuh-uh. Perfect,” she assuages my fears. Another delighted gasp passes her wondrous lips. Rogue reaches up to tangle her fingers in my hair, and I imagine her doing so with both hands when I sink myself into her wet depths.
While I continue to feel her up, we grind against each other, her firm butt against my boner. The slow rocking of our hips only serves to excite me more – Rogue, too, if her now-constant moans are any indication. My beautiful companion pulls her shirt up so I can see my handiwork, and I drop my hands to her stomach so I can admire her bare breasts for a bit. Only one of my hands returns, though; the other, my right, slips just my fingertips beneath the waistband of her pants to tease her.
Rogue shivers. Before I can ask permission, she nods and spreads her legs wider invitingly. I pause to plant kisses on the top and sides of her head, her hair my shield against her skin. I even manage a few on her ear and jaw, thanks to her chin-length cut. Briefly I imagine her with a much longer mane, enough for me to sneak kisses of her shoulders, even her breasts.
“Gorgeous,” I whisper into Rogue’s ear; she shivers again. “Are you sure about this? I… don’t know how to… touch a girl,” I warn her.
“If’n Ah can trust ya with mah lahf, Ah can trust ya with mah body,” she replies, stroking my foot affectionately with hers. “Ah’ll tell ya if’n Ah don’t lahk somethin’. Now, don’t keep a gal waitin’; it’s rude, sugah.”
I start to move my hand down, intending to rub her through her panties. Rogue, however, has other ideas; she deftly grabs my wrist and redirects me inside her undergarments. A rustling sound comes from the area as I run my fingers along her groin and through the curly, well-kept hair there. As excited as I am about this, I can only guess how Rogue feels.
My partner’s whole body jerks the moment my fingers make contact, and her breaths shudder as I lightly, tenderly explore her most delicate flesh. The area is soft, almost yielding, yet furnace-hot. Disappointingly, I can’t feel how wet she is directly, but I know she is due to the increasing ease with which my fingers slide along the sensitive folds of skin. Rogue yelps when my fingers graze her clit; that yelp morphs into a needy moan as I rub up and down.
“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” she mewls, “that’s good. Different from what Ah’m used to, but good.” Rogue bites her lip, and her legs start to kick slowly.
Encouraged, I stroke the entirety of her genitalia with careful but ever-quickening movements. Rogue’s back arches, and she thrusts her hips fervently, eagerly, to enhance the pleasure from my fingers. Her mouth hangs open; with her eyes shut so tightly, I’d think she was in pain if I didn’t know better.
“Fingers… insahd… please,” Rogue pleads. “Almost… almost there, sugah… ohhhh!”
Recalling the memory of how she’d used her fingers on herself, I work a finger – just the middle one, for now – into Rogue’s body. It feels like a furnace and a vice around my finger, and I desperately fight against my curiosity about how it would feel around my dick instead. I don’t want a mess in my boxers.
Gingerly, I try to thrust my finger. My other hand alternates between her breasts, pinching one nipple before rolling the other and vice versa. Rogue’s grip on my hair tightens; her whole body seems to wind back, like a bowstring, maybe.
My finger slides a little deeper inside. Rogue gasps and shudders. A soft squishing sound emanates from where I’m working.
A sudden, throaty noise soon escapes Rogue’s mouth, almost making me jump. I can’t help but grin in anticipation at this chance for another front-row seat, an encore performance of “Rogue’s Climax.” This time, since I won’t be cumming too, I’ll get a chance to really enjoy the show, to observe every little detail and quirk, to get a fuller picture of Rogue in the throes of passion.
More of the full-throated utterances refocus my attention to my lovely lady friend. My hand drops from Rogue’s bosom to her waist, where I feel her taking quick, deep breaths from the diaphragm before each groan – or grunt, when she clenches her teeth together. I feel her pussy spasm around my finger; each spasm presages a full-body shudder which only peters out when it triggers either her head to jerk or her toes to curl.
Rogue shudders to a stop. She relaxes against me as the tension drains from her body, while her breath comes in greedy gasps. Carefully I withdraw my finger from her pussy, then from her panties. The latex glove gleams with her juices in the dim lamplight. I remember Rogue tasted me afterward last time; while I’m curious about her flavor too, my distaste for latex outweighs my curiosity.
As I’m weighing the options, Rogue repositions herself onto her knees facing me. The look in her eyes is one of unadulterated lust – raw, powerful, pure. “Ah wanna do you now, sugah,” she announces. She flinches in embarrassment before correcting herself: “Ah wanna get you off, Ah mean. Borrow yer gloves?”
I finagle the gloves off my hands while Rogue does likewise with hers. I kick myself for not thinking to grab two pairs earlier, but I can’t do much about it now. With some trepidation, I hand the latex to Rogue, and I note a mischievous gleam in her eye.
She must have another naughty idea. All the ones she’s had so far have been fun; I can’t wait to see what she’s cooked up now.
She doesn’t keep me wondering long. “Mahnd standin’ fer this?” Rogue requests, batting her eyes for good measure.
Damn, that’s sexy. Effective, too – I can’t think of much I’d deny her if she batted her lashes at me like that when asking. Full, thick lashes and that dark eye-shadow – those are the elements that really frame and accentuate her eyes. Even in shades of red, they’re alluring, hypnotic.
“Sugah, mah boobs’re down here,” teases Rogue, cupping the twin beauties with their still-stiff nipples and bouncing them playfully. While I was spacing out, she’d taken off her shirt and switched to the latex gloves.
“I was thinking about how beautiful your eyes are,” I reply, a bit defensively. For Rogue’s benefit, I pull down my pajama pants and boxers, revealing my erection, standing proud and tall. I feel a stab of pride when the sight of it brings a huge grin to her face.
Hesitantly, she reaches up to grab it, wrapping her hand around the base in a loose grip. “Looks even bigger now that Ah’m all up close ‘n personal,” she purrs. “Not quaht lahk them fellas in porn,” Rogue jokes, a bit self-consciously for again admitting she watches, “but nothin’ to be ashamed of.” I note her other hand ducking back into her panties.
“If you do that, Rogue,” I groan “I won’t last long. Probably won’t, regardless.” My dick twitches to emphasize the point.
Rogue just smirks. “Oh, sugah, that’s the ahdea,” she intimates. “If there was only a way Ah could do more,” she sighs, “Ah’d lahk to… use mah tits, maybe… or…”
She leans in close to my cock; I can feel her breath on it. Those lips, those luscious lips designed so perfectly for sucking dick, hover a hair’s breadth from my skin. What’s she…?
Rogue looks up at me and fleetingly brushes the tip of my dick with her lower lip. That fraction of a second sends a jolt all through me, prompting a groan. She giggles, “Dick-suckin’ lips, huh?”
“I blame Bobby,” I respond, a bit faint from the sensation and the faint transfer of energy. At least Rogue is amused rather than disgusted. I guess doing that was revenge for when I breathed on her pussy during our last encounter.
She nods. “Ah’ve heard him.” She pulls her hand from her panties; the latex once again glistens with her juices. Rogue brings the slick digit up to my prick and runs it along my shaft in a slow, tantalizing manner, smearing her wetness all over me. “You’re the only fella Ah’d even consider doin’ that for. Or any o’ this stuff, for that matter.”
I groan her name on hearing that. The look on her face just then suggested that, if we could safely do so, she’d let me take her this very moment. “You almost made me jump you, damn the consequences,” I tell her, intentionally echoing what she’s said when I breathed on her spread pussy during our previous rendezvous. She beams in recognition of the moment.
For the next few minutes, Rogue strokes me – slowly at first, but gradually picking up to a moderate pace. Her juices lubricate at first; but they dry as she works, and the feeling becomes less pleasant. She purses her lips. Before I can ask what’s on her mind, though, she spits on my dick and smears the saliva around, which seems to work for now.
Nonetheless, I’m a tad grossed out; that’s something I’d only seen in porn – just once, enough to know it was a turn-off. “How ladylike,” I tease her to allay some of my own discomfort.
“You should know bah now, sugah,” Rogue replies with a playful smirk up at me. “Ah ain’t no lady!”
All of the sights and sounds and memories and fantasies of this evening catch up to me and bring me quickly back to the edge of climax, where I’d been when I stood up. I close my eyes and envision Rogue using her mouth instead of her hand; her luscious lips, in all their slippery softness, slide along my shaft, teasing my head with each upstroke. I feel the tightening in my balls, the signal that I’m close; so I warn the girl pleasuring me.
Rogue lets out a lustful moan and leans forward, if the change in position from which I hear her breathing is any indication. I assume she’s pointing me at her tits, like last time. The thought of covering those perfect breasts triggers my release and banishes all other thoughts.
I open my eyes to see that I was mistaken: rather than her bosom, Rogue had opted to cover her face with my seed; streaks of fluid criss-cross her cheeks, lips, nose, and chin. This is something else I thought only happened in porn. Now that I see it in person though, I can see the appeal.
Rogue lets go of me and swipes at her face. “Dang, what a mess. Ah was aimin’ fer mah mouth,” she explains sheepishly. “It looks so easy onlahn. Grab me a Kleenex, sugah?”
It takes a minute, but I find a box of tissues and help her clean her face, dabbing at her cheeks and nose carefully; I let her blot her cleavage, where my mess had dripped down from her chin. I’m not sure which of us starts it, but soon we’re laughing about the mess. Like we’re any other young couple fooling around and exploring each other’s bodies.
Is that what we are? A couple?
Better answer that question, stat.
“Rogue, I… I really like you,” I confess, like I’d been meaning to do for more than a week now.
My Southern belle licks her lips, then bites the lower one. “Scott… Ah lahk ya too. Ah lahked you ever since… ever since we got paired up to play that stupid scene in English class.” Rogue looks really embarrassed to admit this; if I could see in color, I’m sure she’d be blushing.
“Where do we go from here, then?” I wonder aloud.
Rogue just shrugs. “Ah dunno. Ah don’t think we can make it long-term if Ah can’t really touch you.”
Good point. “What about… short-term?” I suggest as the idea occurs to me. “A… a fling?” Not my preference, really; but if it brings Rogue even a small measure of happiness, that’s what I’ll do.
She purses her lips in thought and folds her arms over her breasts. “Ah reckon Ah’ll take what Ah can get,” she finally responds. With a sad expression, she asks, “Does that make me greedy? Ah got ya all to mahself fer a few days, and we do… all this.”
I shake my head. “If it does, I’m greedy too,” I reassure her. “I want to enjoy this while we can, while things are simple.”
Rogue snorts. “Ain’t nothin’ about this ‘simple,’ sugah.”
I hand my… girlfriend?... her shirt. “We’d better get to bed for now. I’ll come up with a plan and let you know what you’ll need to get if you…” I pause, reddening. “If you want to take things further.”
Rogue gives me a strange look as she puts her shirt back on, obscuring her incredible assets once again. Once it’s back on, she’s wearing a bit-lip, excited smile. “Ah reckon Ah’ll trust you, ‘O captain mah captain,’” she jokes.
I take her into my arms, and we share an all-too-brief kiss on the lips, like the one which kick-started tonight’s adventure. We bid each other good night; I tack on “Sweet dreams.”
Rogue giggles and winks. “If Ah dream, ‘sweet’ won’t be the word, sugah.”
On that note, we head our separate ways to our rooms and to bed.
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A/N: I decided, after much back-and-forth, to extend this story and explore more of the Scott/Rogue dynamic. I had so much fun with the original story, I just couldn't resist a chance to do more with it! Unfortunately, I don't know when I'll have a chance to write the final part - I'm in the midst of another story (which got kinda stuck, and this is the result of my attempt to "cleanse my palate," so to speak) and what looks like a jam-packed fall semester starts soon.
Please do leave feedback - rating, review, PM on the forums - to let me know what you think about this story, especially whether or not I should've left it as a one-shot.
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Season of Giving