Christmas Gift

Title: Christmas Gift (3/3)
Author: Wyzeguy
Universe: Evolution
Pairing: Scott/Rogue
Summary: Following the events of "On Angel's Wings", Scott and Rogue find themselves getting even closer.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language; Consentual sex between teenagers (but not minors, since Scott was 18 during the flashback sequence while Rogue was 17, which is legal in the state of New York) in previous chapters.
Disclaimer: All characters herein are owned by Marvel Characters, Inc. I am making no money off of this; I'm simply exploring a possibility that exists in my head between two of my favorite characters. Please don't sue.


CHRISTMAS GIFT, Part Three
Wyzeguy

CHRISTMAS DAY, 2008

Some people dreamed in black and white. Scott Summers dreamed in color. Depressingly, that color was usually red.

Jean, please ... trust me.... A struggle against a telekinetic grip. Crimson energy straining against forcefields.

I do, Scott. I love you. Which is why I want you to be the one to end it. Fingertips caressing the edges of bare eyelids. I'm glad I finally got to see your eyes.

A flood of released energy. A beautiful body blasted apart. A howling scream cut short.

"Jean!" Scott shouted, bolting upright into a sitting position on his bed. His hands reflexively touched his sleeping goggles to make sure they were still in place. Sweat poured from his hairline, and his chest rose and feel with deep breaths.

It was the dream once again. He knew it was a dream and not just a memory because Jean Grey hadn't screamed. She hadn't had the opportunity. He told himself that it meant she hadn't suffered.

Small comfort.

A faint clattering noise caught his attention. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. He hadn't had many visitors since he'd left the X-Men and bought a cabin in Alaska; his plan was to be a hermit and so far he'd been off to a good start. Sure, he'd had the occasional visiting X-Man, but they'd always been sent packing when he made it clear that under no circumstances was he returning to the mansion or the team.

His body was tense as he left his room, wearing the simple red t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he'd worn to bed. The clattering in the kitchen continued, and he approached with mounting concern. It could be another X-Man with a prepared pep-talk; it could be one of the X-Men's many enemies.

It could be a raccoon.

He doubted it, though: the kitchen light was on, and he doubted a raccoon or a supervillain would have bothered turning on the lights.

"Merry Christmas, Scott," the visitor greet him, and Scott stopped in his tracks. It was Rogue. More importantly, it was Rogue with a full spread of pre-prepared food. She wore a dark green sweater and tight blue jeans; the dark brown duster that had become omnipresent in recent years was draped across the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Scott drew in a breath, not sure how to begin. "How did you sneak in with all of this without tripping any alarms or making more noise?"

"Well, gee, I've only been datin' Gambit for how long?"

"Good point," he admitted, then he sighed. "Rogue, I'm still not interested in rejoining the team. I've said that to Kurt, I've said that to Ororo, and--"

"Who said anything about the X-Men? They're busy puttin' together plans for a strike against the Sentinels." She gestured at the Tupperware containers. "I just wanna make sure you have a proper Christmas dinner."

"I've already eaten tonight," he protested. "Before I went to bed."

"TV dinner, right?"

"Well ... yes." He found himself blushing.

She smirked and affixed him with a look that made him blush even more. "I rest my case."

"They've finally set a date, huh?" Scott asked an hour later over dinner as the two caught up on current events and gossip. Rogue's food had been warmed up, Scott had replaced his sleeping goggles for his regular glasses, and there was even some light Christmas music playing in the background (Rogue had insisted).

"Yeah, they finally set a date," Rogue confirmed after finishing her last mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Took 'em long enough: Ms. Monroe and Dr. McCoy have been circlin' around each other since we were in high school."

Scott chewed his food, thoughtful, before swallowing. "Y'know, it took me the longest time to think of them as 'Ororo and Hank' instead of 'Ms. Monroe and Dr. McCoy'. 'Storm and Beast' was easier, but still...."

"Hell, I'm still workin' on how those two ended up a couple in the first place," Rogue admitted.

"My guess would be that it might have started during those Senate hearings they attended on behalf of mutant rights. Add to that the fact they've been working and living together, and as you said, they've been circling each other ever since."

"Sounds like you have some prior experience with that."

Having lifted a forkful of sweet potatoes toward his mouth, Scott paused and looked at her. He decided not to touch that subject with a ten-foot-pole; instead he asked, "so when's their wedding?"

"First day of spring, of course," Rogue replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Fitting date for a weather goddess, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow, bemused. "Yeah, guess so. Does that mean we'll have to start calling her 'Mrs. McCoy'?"

"Naw, she said she's keepin' her maiden name, so she'll be Mrs. Monroe. She doesn't see the point in the woman always bein' the one to give up her name for her man."

He nodded. "Hank might be more likely to change his name to 'Dr. Henry Monroe'."

She covered her mouth to hold back her laughter. "I could see that! Besides, you know much of a mouthful it'd be to say, 'Ororo Monroe-McCoy'?"

He leaned back in his chair, pondering this. "I don't know ... I think it sounds catchy."

The two of them couldn't help but laugh at that, and Scott welcomed the release.

"When was the last time you laughed, anyway?" she asked, pointing her spoon at him.

"I can't remember." He found that easier to say than, 'before Jean died.'

"Remember the good old days, when we were this close? Two friends, talkin' for hours, makin' each other laugh?"

Scott put down his fork and looked away. "I remember the old days, Rogue ... but not the way I should."

She frowned, staring at him with sad eyes. "It's this again? You're still claimin' our memories ain't real?"

"It's not a mere claim, Rogue. It's a documented fact. I've kept meticulous journals of my activities over the years, and those memories don't match a single one of those journal entries. Danger Room session logs don't correspond. Mansion surveillance footage, phone records, other people's recollections ... should I go on?"

Shoving her half-finished plate aside, she crossed her arms. "Naw, I think you made your point. You don't wanna have nothin' to do with the idea of the two of us bein' together." Rogue usually had the excellent grammar of an avid book-reader, but her rising anger caused her to revert to her backwoods upbringing. Her Southern drawl thickened as well.

"Do you want me to live a lie? Jean Grey implanted those memories in our head because they were her paranoia given form. Thanks to what the Hellfire Club did to her mind, she couldn't tell fantasy from reality." He fixed Rogue with a cutting glare undiminished by ruby quartz glasses. "Do you honestly want me to do the same thing?"

Rogue opened her mouth to respond, but Scott wasn't finished: "How'd Gambit take the 'news' of what you and I supposedly did?"

It was her turn to look away. "We broke up," she admitted, pronouncing the words as if they tasted sour in her mouth. "He didn't take it well. When he found out through the grapevine, he thought I'd been lyin' to him."

His eyebrow raised. "Lying...?"

"When I said he was my first. I swore I was losin' my virginity to him, an' Jean made a liar outta me."

Scott's jaw dropped. "He broke up with you for that? I wouldn't have thought the issue of virginity would have mattered to ... someone like him." He winced at that choice of words. While he didn't trust Remy LeBeau very far, he was at least happy when the two became a serious couple, as Gambit helped her come to terms with her mutant power and her sexuality. He'd helped her to see that her absorption ability wasn't as much of a hindrance to intimacy as she'd thought. Instead, he'd interpreted it as a challenge and worked around it in no time flat. Scott had still been wary of him because he couldn't tell whether he really cared about her or he simply wanted to get into her pants.

Rogue opened her mouth as if ready to defend him, but she seemed to decide it wasn't worth it. "Guess it mattered to him. But really I think what really bothered 'im was who I supposedly gave my cherry to."

"Me?" Scott blinked. "Why would he see me as competition?"

She blushed. "Might be the alias I'm goin' by: Kate Wagner." She pronounced her last name the same way Nightcrawler pronounced his last name -- logical, as he was her stepbrother.

But it was her first name that Scott focused on. "'Kate'?" Uncomprehending, he stared at her. Then the gears clicked into place and he remembered the significance. "That character in the play?" A teacher at Bayville had once paired them up to act out Shakespeare's Henry V, with Scott in the title role, and Rogue in the role of Katherine.

"What can I say? You made an impression on me when you read me poetry."

"That was my character reciting poetry to Kate, remember?"

She smiled. "Exactly."

So much for dodging the bullet on a technicality. "So Gambit thinks ... you have feelings for me."

Her green eyes stared into his. "Yeah. And Scott ... he ain't wrong. After all this time, I still wonder what we might've had together." Abruptly, she grinned. "Though all that hot sex might've been a clue."

"Those memories weren't real, Rogue," Scott asserted, losing patience. "I refuse to pretend they were."

"Why, 'cause that would mean you had a little bit of fun in your teen years?"

"'Fun'? What's fun about cheating on Jean?"

"Well, if she's the one who implanted the memories, that means it was her idea, right?" She grinned. "'Sides, as far as memories go, it beats most of my actual ones. I mean, c'mon, which do you think I'd prefer: 'Dear Diary, I spent most of the day after school doin' homework, then got into an argument with Kitty about her music.' Or: 'Scott drove me up to Lookout Point. Made out with him for ours, then he went down on me.'"

Scott's eyes widened at that. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as a bulge formed in his lap.

Rogue obviously noticed this, because a sly smile crossed her face. "I see you remember that day." Standing up, she sauntered to him and sat in his lap ... right on his bulge. "Certainly was hard to forget that one."

He groaned at the sensation. "Rogue...." The potency of his voice was diminished by the desire flooding it.

"You like this, huh? Just like all those times where you liked bendin' me over the hood o' your car ... or pinnin' me against a wall ... or fuckin' my ass...."

"Rogue."

"Kate," she corrected.

"None of that happened."

"No, but it was what you wanted to happen." She held his gaze, daring him to contradict her. Those weren't just my fantasies, or Jean bein' paranoid. There's gotta be somethin' of yours in there." She started rocking her hips, grinding her crotch against his. The layers of their clothing did little to diminish the sensation. "Some of it's gotta be your fantasies."

Scott stared up at her, letting out deep shuddering breaths.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Or are you gonna tell me you never ... at any point in your life ... wanted to fuck me?"

"Well ... of course. But ... I was a teenager...."

"And now you're a man." She adjusted her positioning to lock eyes with him once again, and in the process her sex ground against his even harder. "And I'm a woman."

That did it. He leaned forward, placed his hand on the back of her head, and captured her lips in a deep kiss.

Their lips parted, their tongues slid together, and moans escaped both of them.

But common sense kicked in, and Scott broke the kiss and pulled away. "Don't--!" He blinked, licking his lips. "Wait. You should have...."

"Absorbed you like a sponge?" Rogue -- Kate -- licked her lips as well. "No longer mandatory. "Surprised?"

Scott nodded. "How...?"

She slowly removed her right glove. "Turns out Jean left me a little parting gift. There at the end, she came to her senses and realized what she was doin' to my mind. Guess this was her way of apologizin'."

"So ... you can touch, now?"

"Since June, yeah. It's not a secret, either, 'cause I told ev'rybody at the mansion."

"And I missed it because I was preoccupied with Jean's death."

She placed her bare hand on his. "Honey, I don't blame you. I don't even blame her for what happened."

He looked up at her, speculatively. "Guess this explains why you've taken her tampering of your memories uncharacteristically well."

"Hey, like I said, they're good memories." She wiggled in his lap as she said this.

"I guess they are, at that." He leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. The kiss was accompanied by a flurry of roaming hands, both hers and his.

The feel of Rogue's bare skin under his hands was everything the implanted memories told Scott it would be, and then some. Her body writhed against his touch, and her temperature rose within the confines of her clothing.

Her hands were having the same effect on his body. They started tugging at his shirt, and he helped her remove it. Her hands slid all over his stomach, and especially his abs. Her touch conveyed a shift in her mood, from passionate to curious.

"Coulda sworn you were in better shape than this," she whispered in his ear. "You growin' love handles on me?" She playfully grasped the slight rolls of flesh above his hips.

He abruptly chuckled. It was true: his body was no longer as toned as it once was. "I can't exactly rely on a Danger Room for a workout these days," he answered.

"I'm just teasin' ya," she assured him, her questing hands continuing to roam. "You still feel like you're in pretty good shape."

"That makes two of us." A thick layer of hunger infused his voice as his hands slid up her sides, his thumbs tracing the hard contours of her abs. That was an understatement: she was in unbelievable shape, owing in part to her permanent superstrength. Her body had been petite and trim in her teen years, but as an adult she had blossomed into a woman with a peerless body. Her hips were wide and round, and as his hands moved up to her bra, he appreciated how much she'd filled out in that area as well.

He caressed her breasts through the fabric of her bra, and she inhaled sharply, gasping at the sensation. It was a familiar response: he remembered her doing that every single time he'd touched her breasts as they'd made love.

False memories, Scott, he couldn't help but remind himself. This is the first time I've ever touched them. But a whimpering sound from Kate brought him back to the present. He resolved to focus on the current task, and he tugged off her sweater and t-shirt as she raised her arms. Tossing the clothing aside, he reached around to her back and unhooked her bra with nimble fingers.

Kate captured his face between her hands, caressed his cheekbones, and kissed him roughly. She ground her crotch against his one last time, then she stood up from his lap, taking her body heat with her.

It was Scott's turn to whimper as he looked up at her, watching her as she turned her back to him and slid her bra off her arms. His gaze took in the sight of her tossing the garment onto the pile of their discarded clothing as she started walking away.

Her fingers started unbuttoning the fly of her jeans as she glanced over her shoulder. "You comin' or what?"

He blinked, realizing she was heading in the direction of his bedroom. He scrambled to his feet, almost knocking the chair sideways to the floor as he gave chase.

Kate was already on the bed and sliding off her jeans when Scott entered his bedroom. She eyed his pajama bottoms hungrily, and when he approached the bed she tugged them down to reveal his hardening member. "Mmmm ... just as I remember it." She started stroking it with one hand and cupping his balls with the other.

Scott moaned as he watched her do this. He looked down at her -- at her shapely figure clad only in panties -- and he licked his lips, his mouth dry with lust.

She gave his shaft a few tentative licks before she engulfed it into her mouth. She looked up at him with affectionate eyes as she went down on him again for the first time.

He placed one hand on the wall next to the bed for support, and he glanced over at a pair of sleeping goggles resting on his nightstand. Closing his eyes, he traded his glasses for the goggles with a few practiced movements, though the feeling of her tongue sliding up and down his cock threatened his concentration.

Finally, his goggles were correctly in place, and he gazed back down at Rogue in time to watch her remove his cock from her mouth and squeeze it in between her large breasts. "Remember this?" she asked as she slowly slid her soft globes up and down on his shaft.

All he could do was nod; the sensation was indescribable. He couldn't have forgotten the first time he'd fucked her breasts, even if the memory happened to be false. They were reliving those memories and making them real.

Even so, he couldn't help but think they could do better. After a few minutes, Scott instructed her to, "lie down on your stomach."

Curious, Rogue did so, obviously wondering what he was going to do next. He moved around the bed until he was behind her, deliberately moving slowly to increase her anticipation. Kneeling on the bed, he moved a hand to her ass, gliding it across the thin fabric of her panties until his fingers brushed the lips of her pussy. He stroked them through the material, earning a moan from her.

He could feel her moisture beginning to soak her panties. "Want me to take them off?"

Her breathing increased as she rested her head on her folded arms. "Yeah...."

He continued stroking her, as if he were in no hurry at all. "Are you sure?"

Her voice rose with urgency. "Yessss ... c'mon...."

"'Come on'?"

She grabbed the sheets in tight fistfuls as her back arched. "Come on an' rp my panties off, Summers! Rip 'em off an' fuck me before I lose my mind!"

"Not yet." He heard her whimper as he spread her legs a little bit and shifted the fabric aside a bit to expose her hot, wet sex to the air. Dipping his head low, he began lapping at her folds.

She buried her head into a pillow to muffle an inarticulate cry. Bucking her hips, she ground her crotch against his face, desperate for him to maintain any kind of contact with her womanhood.

Finally, he lifted her hips and slid her panties down her legs, and she assumed a kneeling position with her head and arms still resting on the pillow.

As he guided the head of his cock to her entrance, he planned on moving slowly. But clearly, she had other ideas. As soon as she felt the hardness of his manhood, she pushed back against him to insert it as deeply as possible. He groaned as he entered her completely in one movement; he wasn't sure there was a word to describe the sound she made.

The vice-like tightness of her vagina was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It was like the tightness of a virgin, only ... magnified. If he'd had enough of a train of thought left, he might have attributed it to her superhuman strength. As it was, the sensation made it very hard for him to think clearly.

He pulled back, then pushed himself in deeper. Her tunnel was already soaked, so the more he slid his cock in and out of her, the easier it became. His pace quickened, and their moans filled the room.

"Harder," she urged, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "Don't ... hold back...."

And he didn't hold back. If anything, he quickened the pace and strength of his thrusts until he was slamming into her hard enough to cause permanent damage to a normal woman. Luckily, she was quite a bit more resilient than that.

Rogue kept urging him on, though her words were no longer coherent. She got the point across as she bucked her hips with her own formidable strength.

The bed shook as they fucked as hard and fast as they could, until finally Rogue shuddered underneath him as Scott pulled out and showered her back with his come. Their orgasms were nearly simultaneous, leaving them to collapse on the bed, catching their breaths.

"That was ... amazing, Rogue," he muttered between gasps of air as he tried to catch his breath. "Or Kate, I guess I should say."

"Either one's fine, hon," she informed him, just as exhausted. "Now aren't you glad I came over?"

"I am at that. Merry Christmas," he said, lying on his back. "And thanks for the present."

She crawled onto his chest, locking gazes with him. "Oh, that ain't all of it. That was just Round One."

"Oh. Even better."

In the dim hours of early morning, Scott stirred. He peered at Rogue through ruby quartz sleeping goggles, watching her sleep. She was still naked beneath the covers, and her pale skin stood out in sharp contrast to her dark hair, just as it always had.

Her brow furrowed as she started to wake up. "Mmmmwha' time is it...?"

"Still early." He gently caressed her shoulder. "You don't have to be anywhere, do you?"

She glanced around, realizing she was still in Scott's room, in his bed. "Nowhere but here, no." She snuggled up to him, attempting to go back to sleep. She seemed to notice Scott was still staring at her. "What?"

"'Do you like me, Kate?'"

She blinked, trying to wake up so she could make sense of that. "You're askin' now? 'Course I like you. Wouldn'ta ended up here if I didn't."

"You're supposed to say, 'I cannot tell what is, like me.' Preferably in a French accent." He smiled, quoting Shakespeare. "And I'm supposed to say, 'an angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.'"

Comprehension finally dawned, and she grabbed the pillow from under her head and swatted him with it. "Oh gawd, Summers, you are such a cornball."

His grin widened as he blocked the pillow with his forearm and grabbed it from her grasp. "Funny, last time I said that you said I was a charmer."

"Last time you didn't say that at an ungodly hour." Taking the pillow back from him, she covered her face with it, trying to block out the world.

Consequently, her next sentence was muffled, and Scott couldn't make it out. "Say again?"

Kate peeked from under the pillow, speaking more distinctly. "I said, 'but thanks for callin' me an angel.'" More seriously, she pointed a finger at him before he could say anything else. "An' don't even make a Warren Worthington crack, or I swear I'll punch you."

"How'd you know I was going to?"

"I know you too well, Summers."

"'Summers' now? Not 'Scott'?"

"Not at this hour. Now let me sleep." She rolled over, yanking the blankets from his side of the bed.

"Your wish is my command, Kate." He ignored her groan and headed for the shower; the smile was still on his face.

Hours later, he sat at the dinner table, fully dressed and eating breakfast, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

He'd been hearing the shower run for the past half-hour until it finally stopped; knowing Kate, she'd used the last of the hot water. A hand touched his shoulder, causing him to flich.

"Oh, sorry if I scared you," Kate apologized, standing there in one of his bath robes and probably nothing else underneath. "Guess Remy's thievin' skills rubbed off on me."

"Don't worry about it. Are you hungry? There's toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, juice...."

Smiling, she kissed his cheek and sat in his lap. "Breakfast of champions, huh? Yeah, I'm starvin'." She studied his thoughtful expression. "I know that look: you're workin' on somethin'."

"Last night, you mentioned a strike against the Sentinels. Tell me more."

A victorious smile crossed Kate's face.

By New Year's Day of 2009, Scott Summers had returned to the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. It had been rebuilt since Jean Grey had laid waste to it months before, and it stood virtually unchanged.

Scott himself had changed dramatically. He had shaved, worked himself back into shape, and he now moved with a purpose he had lacked since he'd lost Jean.

This was due in no small part to the woman who accompanied him back to the mansion: Rogue, alias Katherine Wagner. While he didn't exactly announce it to anyone, he took no great pains to hide his relationship with her when he rejoined the team. The two moved into Scott's suite in the mansion and promptly endured their friends' countless questions and variations of, "it's about time!"

After they'd successfully put the Sentinels out of commission, they attended the wedding of Ororo Monroe and Henry McCoy. Naturally, everyone expected Scott and Kate to be the next couple to walk down the aisle.

Neither of them rushed it, though. They decided to be content with what they had, regardless of what the future held, or what had really happened in their pasts.

CHRISTMAS DAY, 2001 - WHAT REALLY HAPPENED

Scott warmed up inside the boathouse, glad that none of the other students were currently on the grounds. Leaving his jacket on, he took off his gloves and warmed them in the heat of the fireplace.

"Likin' the fire?" Rogue asked, reclining on the rug next to him. She'd warmed up enough to remove her jacket, and was now in her light-colored wool sweater and jeans. "Why not take off the jacket, an' stay awhile?"

"I'm fine like this," he replied, though he did feel the need to unzip his jacket more. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater underneath as well, though it wasn't as bulky as hers.

"Yeah, right. You're gonna burn up in that thing before too long."

He smirked. "You just want to watch me take off my clothes."

Her voice came out in a purr. "Never said I didn't."

Scott decided to stare straight ahead at the fire. Suddenly he wished there were other students around. Maybe then her attention wouldn't be so relentlessly focused on him.

She sat up and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. "Oh, c'mon, Summers, don't clam up on me now. It's just a little harmless flirtin'."

From there, the conversation spiralled into a discussion on the dangers of his optic beams and the pros and cons of being interested in "safe" girls like Jean and Taryn. But before he could get too perturbed at Rogue, she managed to diffuse the situation with a grin. "See? That's what I like about you: you're always thinkin'."

Almost against his will, he felt himself relaxing. He had a hard time staying mad at her, especially when she opened up this much around him. The two of them had talked more in the hours they'd spent in New York than in the rest of the time he'd known her. He was pretty sure she didn't talk to anyone that much.

Then again, neither did he, to anyone but Jean. And even then, there were some things he kept from her. Like angels....

He shed his jacket and lied down on the carpet next to Rogue. They stayed that way in companionable silence for a long while, and somewhere along the way Rogue curled up to him with her head resting on her chest. This felt familiar, like the way they'd reclined in the Bentley as they'd been driven back to the mansion.

Rogue finally fell asleep at some point. Just as Scott was about to do the same, he picked up a telepathic message from Charles Xavier: ~Are the two of you going to stay in the boat house all night?~

We might as well, sir, he thought back. It seems like too much trouble to wake her up, put our coats on, and go back into the cold just so we can go to bed. We can sleep in here.

~Very well, Scott,~ Charles replied after a moment. ~I trust your judgment. We will see you in the morning, then. Good night, and Merry Christmas.~

"You too," Scott mumbled as he sent that thought to the professor.

Standing up and stretching, he carefully picked Rogue up and carried her into one of the guest bedrooms. Setting her down on the bed, he placed the blankets over her and tucked her in. He didn't turn on the light, so he had very little light to work with, but he managed.

She moaned and shifted a bit as he did this, possibly in the midst of some dream or another. Not wanting to interrupt her, he turned to the doorway and prepared to leave.

He stopped in mid-stride and glanced back at her. Thinking about it for a moment, he moved back over to her and placed a very gentle kiss on a lock of hair covering her forehead. This way she wouldn't drain him.

"Good night, Rogue," he whispered, then left the room and closed the door behind him. He slept in a different room, but all in all, he had no complaints. It was the best Christmas he could remember having, and it had ended on a positive note. It was certainly a Christmas he was sure he would never forget.

THE END