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Parting Gift	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 1192 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters in this story; Marvel does. I make no money from the writing of this piece.

Chapter List
- 1-Giving and Receiving
- 2-Gift That Keeps Giving
- 1
- 2
Chapter 2: Gift That Keeps Giving

Diffuse sunlight pouring into the room wakes me up. For the first time in months, I’ve had a good night’s rest. Unusual sensations reveal themselves as my brain begins to process my surroundings.
First, I’m not in my own bed. When Jean and I moved in together about a year ago, we’d bought a queen bed. This one is a twin, like the one that had been in my room when I lived alone.
Second, I’m not alone in this bed. From the scent of the dark hair near my face, to the uniquely-pale skin of the ear and neck, it can’t be anyone other than Rogue. Our hands are interlocked around her waist, and we’re spooning.
Third, we’re both naked. Her bare body, curves in all the right places, presses against mine, particularly her superb rear against my morning wood. For a brief moment, I’m concerned; but if a complication with her powers were going to occur, I wouldn’t be conscious right now to worry about it.
Memories of last night’s activities bubble to the surface, and heat rises to my face. Rogue and I had reconnected, bonding over our shared grief over Jean’s… absence. As soon as she kissed me, though, we ended up indulging ourselves in pleasures long denied because of the limitations of Rogue’s power during our brief fling years ago.
I’m not usually so spontaneous, especially about sex. Jean and I dated for almost two full years before making love for the first - and, as it turned out, only - time. Rogue, on the other hand, tends to embrace such moments more impulsively, and I have a hard time resisting her.
Waking up next to a beautiful naked woman is a novel sensation, one I’d gladly get used to. Rogue and I never could before, for obvious reasons. Jean had always insisted on wearing her nightgown, even the night we made love.
Rogue’s room looks different from the way I remember it during that Christmas break that now feels like a different lifetime. Half the room, including a second bed, now lies bare, probably since Kitty moved in with that Moonstar girl about a year ago. I guess the Professor didn’t bother assigning Rogue a new roommate because of the chance of mishap with her powers, but I still feel sad for her. Rogue’s always felt fairly isolated, and she and Kitty became pretty close friends despite their vast differences in personality; so it must’ve been tough to suddenly be alone in here.
An empty feeling due to the absence of someone you’re close to? I can relate.
Rogue stirs beside me, breaking into my morbid musings. I can feel her tense up all over and hear the sharp, almost panicked intake of breath. “For a moment, Ah thought you were dead, ‘til Ah felt just how alahve you are, pokin’ me with that thing.” Her strained tone belies her lighthearted words.
“I had a similar moment when I first realized who was snuggled up against me,” I reply in a darkly wry tone. “Sleep well?”
My companion relaxes a little. “Lahk a baby. You?”
My answer in the affirmative surprises me at first. “No more nightmares,” I add in awe.
Rogue laughs dryly. “If all it takes to keep ‘em away is to wear each other out with sex,” she muses in a cheeky tone, “Ah can live with that.”
I don’t respond beyond a dry chuckle of my own. Rogue squeezes my hand and half-turns to look over her shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts, sugah?” she prompts me.
I mull over my response for a bit, maybe too long since my bedmate’s face takes on a look of deep concern. Finally, I explain: “The way you said that… it sounds like you want to pick up right where we left off that night we…” I sigh. “I’m not sure what to call what we did.”
“Punched each other’s V-cards?” she suggests. Rogue follows her words with a sigh of her own. “Yes and no. It obviously won’t everything we hoped it’d be, but Ah don’t regret it. Never did. Even though Ah pushed you away, it won’t for that reason.” She chews her lip, uncertainty written all over her face. “Ah don’t regret last naht, either. Do you?”
Reflexively, I start to give her a cliché, reassuring answer; but I stop myself. Rogue and I are close enough that I feel she deserves an honest response: “I’m not sure how to feel about last night. I enjoyed it, definitely, but a piece of me feels vaguely like I’m betraying Jean’s memory by moving on.”
Rogue squeezes my hand again. “Ah’ve never really been as close to anyone as y’all were to each other,” she begins in a wistful tone, “so Ah can’t say Ah know how you feel, or how long is ‘long enough’ to grieve. But –” she emphasizes the word by reaching back with her free hand to ruffle my hair – “if there’s one thing Ah’ve learned from bein’ an X-Man, it’s that we can’t let our worst days defahn us.”
I smile. Rogue might understand that better than anyone; she’s been inside my head, Magneto’s, that Cajun’s, Wolverine’s, Jean’s, the Professor’s. She’s seen us all at our worst. Not to mention those things she’s done that she herself isn’t proud of, like trying to kill her adoptive mother, Mystique, after one too many betrayals. Yet, time and again, she’s chosen to move forward, to do better.
Suddenly, I remember last night, and how right I felt when we kissed, how right everything had felt in that moment. Jean’s final message to me was one of regret over all the time we’d wasted dancing around one another. I wonder…
Aloud, I ask, “What am I to you?”
Now it’s Rogue’s turn to fall silent for far too long for comfort.
“Rogue?” I prompt her, surprising myself with my impatience for her answer.
“Mah first love,” she finally murmurs. “Mah only love,” she amends herself.
A bit taken aback at her reply, I ask, “What about that Cajun?”
“That swamp rat?” Rogue scoffs, in such a way that I practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Ah’m just a puzzle to him. A lock to be picked. A safe to be cracked. The Fort Knox of pussy.”
I shudder at the disgust in her voice, which mirrors the disgust I feel. “Gross” seems like a, well, gross understatement, but it’s the only word I can muster.
“Ah’ve never told anyone about what happened between us. Not even Kitty, much less that swamp rat,” she explains. “He thinks Ah’m a virgin, and Ah see no reason to disabuse him of the notion.”
I’m admittedly somewhat surprised. “Sorry… I thought you two…”
Rogue snorts derisively. “So does he. Ah can’t get it through his thick skull that Ah don’t see him that way.” She sighs. “Maybe in some alternate reality or whatever…”
I don’t really know what to say to that, so I settle for running my unheld hand along Rogue’s back. Finally, I manage, “It’s good to know I’m not competing with such a charmer.”
Rogue inhales sharply, a reaction I didn’t quite expect. “Ah prefer your sincerity to his façade of charm any day,” she murmurs. Her delightful rear suddenly presses back against me. “And Scott Junior’s been sincere ever since Ah woke up.”
I can’t exactly deny it – lying naked together, feeling her skin so freely against mine, has been thoroughly erotic, if in a low-key way. “Should I apologize?” I tease. Rather than respond in words, she guides my hand, the one she’s been holding this whole time, to her voluminous breast, which I waste no time enjoying. As before, it’s soft and warm, with just the right amount of give. A pleasant sigh escapes my companion, followed by a soft moan when I toy with the nipple.
As good as it feels to touch Rogue like this and elicit such wonderful noises, something’s… off. Relying on my sense of touch, I squeeze and caress the full expanse of one breast, then the other. Finally, it clicks: “Bigger than I remembered.”
Rogue laughs and rolls over, throwing her leg across my lap. Her body heat warms and excites me. I’m struck by how pale her skin looks, and I realize this is the first time I’ve seen her naked in natural light – every other time has been by indoor lighting or, last night, moonlight.
She’s simply breathtaking.
I’m so busy appreciating her that I almost miss her explanation: “Picked up a cup sahze or so over the last couple years.” A coy smile graces her lips just before Rogue presses herself flush against me. Kisses begin at my neck and leave a trail of smoldering embers down my chest. “Gotta bah specialty bras these days.”
“I’m… sorry?” is my lame reply.
“Don’t be, sugah,” Rogue purrs as her lips reach my navel. Just as I begin to expect a repeat of her work last night, I instead feel her nestle my stiffened manhood between the topics of our recent conversation. “In terms of sahze, Ah probably coulda used ‘em lahk this before, but now Ah can for sure.”
I gasp at the sensation of her soft flesh all around me, and I groan as my partner begins to move up and down. Rogue presses her generous breasts together to hold me between them as she works my length more vigorously. Dimly I wonder how she knows how to do this, but I don’t want to spoil the mood by asking. The pleasant soft warmth of her soon consumes all other considerations.
Except one. “Are you enjoying this?” I grunt as my own drippings provide that delicious slippery sensation.
Rogue slows to a stop. “It’s… okay. More fun for you than me.”
I smile and reach down to stroke her cheek; she smiles back and nuzzles my hand. “Let’s do something else, then,” I suggest, “Something that both of us will enjoy.”
“Lahk last naht?” she asks, her cheeks coloring as she starts to dip her head.
“As good as that was,” I begin, cupping her chin tilting her face upward until our gazes meet, “I think I’d like something different.” I almost balk at this point, but I feel like I passed any point of no return when I stopped her from giving me another blowjob. “Last time we were… together… I couldn’t kiss you, so…” I take a deep breath. “I want to take full advantage of that this time around.”
Rogue wears the most endearingly-shy smile I’ve ever seen as she crawls back up my body, tantalizing me with the barest brush of her breasts along my torso. Biting her lip, she settles down, groin to groin, and rocks her hips. We both whisper each other’s name at the intense sensations – in my case, that of her pussy, slick with her arousal and far warmer than I remember, though in the latter case the latex barriers probably blunted the heat. Dimly, I’m impressed that she’s already this wet with so little foreplay directed toward building her pleasure.
I run my hands up and down the curves of her waist. Our faces drift closer, little by little, until our lips meet. Unlike the unbridled passion of last night, our kiss this morning feels much more relaxed, like we both know we can take our time and savor this. Our tongues cavort and frolic together freely. Fortunately, neither of us has bad morning breath today.
We lose ourselves in the kiss for a long while. My hands explore every bit of my partner I can reach – hair, cheeks, chin, neck, arms, breasts, back, waist, hips, stomach, butt, thighs, pussy. Her skin feels soft and smooth all over, and in most places I can feel her firm muscle underneath. Rogue’s hands remain more stationary, one tangled in my hair, the other raking up and down my chest. I’m suddenly glad she keeps her nails short.
Once we’ve reached our limits for teasing, we reach down between us. With some difficulty, we guide the tip of my erection into her. Rogue gasps and works her way downward, drawing a groan of pleasure from me.
With nothing between us this time, the pleasure I feel is incredibly intense. Not only does Rogue’s slick heat enveloping me feel utterly sublime; there’s also a texture to her insides unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Soon, I’m fully ensheathed, and I can already tell I’m not going to last nearly as long this time as I did the last time over Christmas break with the condom.
I take my partner’s hand. She intertwines our fingers. We share a smile.
“Feels so good, Scott,” she whispers. “Just how Ah always imaged. How it shoulda felt that naht.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” I reach up with my other hand to stroke her cheek. “Marie.”
My partner’s eyes widen, and I watch the blush blossom on her cheeks. “You remembered.” Her voice trembles.
“How could I forget the name of the first woman I ever made love to?”
See? I can be smooth sometimes.
Without further ado, Marie kisses me and starts to move her hips.
At first, I let my free hand roam her body, the better to discover all the small ways she likes being touched. I quickly find out she’s not terribly picky, unsurprisingly, emitting soft moans into my mouth at varying intervals. Pinching her nipples elicits the most emphatic sounds, though it’s difficult to get to them with her pressed against me. I think I best like having my hand on her ribs or upper back so I can feel her breathing. Panting. Gasping for air between kisses and moans from the pleasure I’m giving her.
My awareness quickly shrinks to the novel sensation of warm, wet pussy gliding back and forth along my dick, absorbing or obliterating all other thoughts and sensations.
Marie’s right – this is how it should feel.
Her back arches, pulling our mouths apart, and she cries out my name, bringing my consciousness back into the moment for a deep breath before the final plunge. One pair of our hands remains clasped. Her free one rests on my chest, mine on her plush yet toned rear, which I feel flexing and relaxing as she rides at a slow, intense pace, as if she knows that’s how to prolong this. Her bounteous breasts bounce a bit with every back-and-forth. I feel the tension in my own groin straining near the point of release.
Oddly enough, it’s the sound of her deep and thickly-voiced “Ohhh mah Gawd” that sends me over the edge. I cry out Marie’s name. Each spurt feels like my whole body’s behind it. Even though she gave me head just last night, it feels like I haven’t cum in months.
I kinda lose track of time for a bit, panting, basking in the afterglow. Dimly I register my partner sliding off me and to the side, also gasping for air, a light sheen of perspiration bedewing her skin. Her leg and arm remain slung across me, almost possessively. I haven’t felt this good in ages.
Of course, I can’t just let the moment be. From a distant corner of my mind, an overwhelming question arises, one I feel compelled to voice: “Are you on birth control?”
Marie doesn’t answer for a long moment before muttering, “Shit.” She sits up gingerly to reach for her nightstand, her hand between her legs, probably to keep herself from staining her sheets. “Ah know Ah’m impulsive, but this is an instance where it ain’t a good thing to get caught up in the moment.”
“I should’ve thought about it before we started,” I insist, kicking myself for lack of planning, something I’m usually so meticulous about. Looks like my difficulty with spontaneity bites me in the ass again – and this time, with potential life-changing consequences.
Dammit.
“It’s not lahk either of us were expectin’ to have sex again anytahm soon,” Marie points out as she slips a strange cylindrical object into herself. “Ah coulda said somethin’ too,” she adds in a remorseful tone.
My curiosity gets the better of me. “What was that?”
Marie’s cheeks flush, enough to read as “red” even though everything looks red to me. “Um… it’s a tampon. Ah figured it’d keep me from drippin’ everywhere, especially into mah underwear.”
Dripping? I didn’t think I’d left that much inside her.
I suppose it doesn’t matter. What matters is we didn’t use protection.
I sit up now and wrap an arm around Marie’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you,” I promise her.
Marie smiles. “Ah sure ain’t ready for no young-uns yet,” she drawls exaggeratedly for effect, “but if’n ya done gave me one, Ah expect you to make an honest woman of me.”
“Never thought I’d have a shotgun wedding,” I joke back.
“Me neither, sugah,” Marie replies. “Ah reckon Ah’ll scoot down to the infirmary later today. There’s a bottle of morning-after pills for just such occasions.”
“Makes sense in a house full of hormonal teenagers,” I muse.
“Present company included,” she chimes in playfully.
I run my hand down Marie’s spine and appreciate the way she shivers. Another overwhelming question arises for me to ask: “So… what now?”
Marie climbs out of bed and begins gathering her pajamas, and I take the opportunity to admire her glorious naked body and her carefree demeanor. With every dip and shimmy, it occurs to me that she might be showing off a bit. Not that I mind – she’s spent so long completely covered up that viewing her like this is rather refreshing.
She’s got so much to show off, too. Marie stands above average height, with a perfect hourglass figure, plus sculpted and toned muscles from time in the Danger Room, including thick thighs and calves. Those stellar breasts hang proudly from her frame and dangle every time she bends down and bounce with each step. Her butt, somewhat overshadowed by her bust, has the same tone as her legs, but a bit more cushion; when she bends over, I can’t help but appreciate just how firm yet plush it looks.
“Ah wondered if maybe Jean’s gift didn’t cover both of our circumstances,” Marie finally answers.
“What do you…” I trail off as the implications resolve into focus in my mind. “You think she might have repaired the brain injury so that I can control my powers?”
Marie faces me, hands on her hips, cloth dangling against her legs. Viewed full-on, in all her nude glory, she strikes quite the image, one I could stare at all day if I could. “If Jean helped me, whah wouldn’t she have helped you?” she asks in a tone that suggests the answer should be obvious.
I mull that over for a long moment. “That makes a lot of sense, I suppose. I don’t want to test that hypothesis here, though.” I smile as an idea occurs. “After your visit to the infirmary, let’s hit the Danger Room. That way, if you’re wrong, I won’t blow a hole in your wall.”
“Ah reckon, in the meantahm, whah don’t we go downstairs and get some breakfast?” she suggests. “Gettin’ laid sure worked up an appetaht,” she adds with a wink.
I scratch my head absently. “When I asked ‘what now,’ I was thinking outside the immediate future.”
Marie doesn’t look at me as she dons a plain-looking bra – beige, I think, though I can’t tell for sure. I can’t help but watch the process carefully, as I’ve never seen a woman put one on before. She hooks it together at her stomach, turns it until the cups are in front, and pulls the garment upward, slipping her arms into the straps. With a few minor adjustments inside the cups, she seems satisfied enough to answer: “Ah’m pretty sure Ah told you, Ah’m still in love with you. Never stopped.”
She bites her lip, and I think she’s afraid. I realize I’ve never told her how I feel about her. It’s entirely plausible, to her, that I’ll push her away, like she did to me that night we made love the first time. It’s equally plausible, to her, that what’s happened between us is just another fling.
“I’ll be honest with you, Marie; I owe you that much,” I begin. “I’ve always cared for you a great deal; I’ve always felt a strong connection between us. I can’t, however, say I’m in love with you.”
Her face starts to fall, and I feel terrible for how I’ve put it. To try to salvage the moment, and to continue being honest, I add, “Not yet, anyway. I’m still grieving for Jean, but I think I’m ready enough to try to move on.” I run my hand through my hair, slightly frustrated at probably botching this. “If you’re still interested after I just made an idiot of myself.”
Marie’s lips curl into a watery smile, and she shakes her head wryly. “You sure know how to sweet-talk a gal,” she teases.
“You said earlier you prefer sincerity over charm,” I remind her.
“Ah’m startin’ to regret it,” she retorts, her tone still playful.
I chuckle and let that drop. “What do you say, Marie? Want to give ‘us’ a try?”
Marie hands me my pajamas, and I note her smile has grown warmer. “Ah’ve wanted it for years, Scott. What do you think?”
I can’t help but grin at Rogue’s legendary sass.
Once dressed, we share another kiss, this one long and gentle, romantic where previous ones carried more passion or desire or lust or need. Just being able to touch Rogue directly, without a barrier and without worrying about her power leaving me in a coma, is one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I doubt either of us will ever take it for granted.
I’m trying not to get my hopes up about my own state, but it’s not easy. Shades of red might look good on her, but I want to see this magnificent woman in her entirety, in full, vibrant, living color. For the first time in a long, long time, I’m filled with a sense of optimism. Of hope.
It’s more than a little scary, if I’m honest.
For the briefest of moments, I feel a presence in the room with us, vague and undefined, accompanied by a faint pressure inside my mind. The presence draws nearer, until a sensation resembling a pair of fiery lips manifests against my forehead. As soon as it appears, it dissipates.
After a moment, I recognize the gesture – Jean often kissed me on the forehead before we fell asleep each night. It feels like a sign that I have her blessing for this. Maybe this is even what she intended all along, like Rogue suggested last night.
After Jean’s departure, I’d stored most of her things in her old room, currently unoccupied. I haven’t had the heart to do anything else with them. Maybe it’s time. Maybe I should even ask Rogue to help me.
A loud growl from both our stomachs, in concert, forces me and Rogue apart with embarrassed laughter. I put what I was thinking about on hold, so that I can focus on enjoying this moment. If Dr. McCoy were here, I bet he’d have this quote at the ready: “Sufficient to the day are the troubles thereof.”
But I think it’s true that sufficient to the day are the joys, too.
Hand in hand, we leave Rogue’s room to face whatever the future holds.
Together.
____________________________________________________________________
A/N: Special shout-out to Sage_of_Discord, who suggested the bit about Scott's powers also getting fixed. Obviously, I didn't take it to that point, leaving it ambiguous instead. Jean "fixing" Rogue was necessary for this story in a way that "fixing" Scott isn't, even if it's also totally in-character for her to do so; and I wanted this story to continue to respect the disability of his powers in the way the previous one did. So I hope the ambiguity of it is a sufficient compromise.
I didn't entirely mean for this whole story to be a partial meditation on grief and moving on, but I've found that theme quite compelling lately, especially after WandaVision. If you haven't watched it, I can't recommend it enough.
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Parting Gift