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Epsilon series	By : savysavestheday Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Het - Male/Female Views: 1075 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-Men movies, or any of the characters from them. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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PROMPT: 027 seduction

SENTENCE: no sentence. Missing scene.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many joyful thanks to F for many wonderful ideas and scene suggestions (yes, you're right, if I got money out of this, you'd be rich too, but sadly, I don't and therefore you aren't) and for the hours she spends with me, ranting, pondering, raving, talking about my fics… and hers. She's my muse so go smack her, not me. Oh and since I don't actually know much about John's past, I'm just gonna get creative with it, okay?

AND: The song is "COLD" by CROSSFADE

… where the wild things are

Looking back at me I see // that I never really got it right // I never stopped to think of you // I'm always wrapped up in // things I cannot win // you are the antidote that gets me by // something strong // like a drug that gets me high

Your Zippo is missing and so, you're really not in the best of moods while walking around the school, retailing your steps and trying to locate the damn thing. Where the fuck did you put it?

It's Friday night, already dark and all you really want is to get out and get so wasted, so high, that you won't remember a thing when you wake up. It's quiet and practically dead here and it makes you uneasy, bothers you. Yeah, just another typical Friday at the home base. You see, most of the kids have gone to their little homes with their little families. Gone to their little hideaways where they can spend the weekend and pretend - pretend they actually belong.

Which they don't, of course, but it's not like these people would ever admit that, not even to themselves. Yeah, well, whatever. Fuck them.

After an hour spent going from room to room and ransacking every dark corner, you finally accept the defeat. You give up. Sure, you love that damn lighter, but there's a special limit to your affection and you're there.

So, you empty your lungs with a frustrated exhale, turn around and walk up the stairs to go back into your room to sulk or whatever you're in the mood of. At least Bobby won't be there - yeah, the little sucker's at Kitty's, meeting the big happy family, getting to know the future inlaws. Or, the way you see it, getting laid.

Well, at least one of you is getting some. Though the fact it's Bobby doesn't really make you feel that much better. The opposite, actually. But you're working on the said issue so, no worries. You're almost there.

Soon, Pyro, soon.

When you finally walk into your dorm thinking how in a minute you'll be emptying your stash of booze clean, you suddenly freeze.

What the hell?

Click. Click. Click.

"Hey," a soft voice greets you.

It's Rogue, sitting on your bed.

Click. Click. Click.

And yeah, that's your lighter in her fucking hands, being played with the way you wish you were.

Click. Click. Click.

"Well, well, well," you drawl with a smirk and close the door behind you, not daring to take your eyes off of her. She's biting her bottom lip and that alone makes you forget all about your previous plans for the night and just... Gods, those lips… delicious.

"If you're looking for Bobby, he ain't here," you chuck when she doesn't, hoping it affects her somehow, hurts. She swallows, hard, and you can almost hear it - still, she doesn't break the eye contact, no matter how uncomfortable she feels. Brave girl.

"If I were looking for him," she replies, a weird smirk meeting her lips, "don't you think I'd be sitting on his bed instead?"

Click. Click. Click.

You shrug, slowly licking your teeth. "The fuck I know. Female logic has never opened up to me."

She actually cracks a smile and you have to force yourself to stay put. "Yeah," she chuckles, "it figures."

Oh man.

"Yeah."

Silence falls upon you two, giving you a chance to take her appearance in, observe, and she doesn't seem to be uncomfortable anymore, not a bit bothered. What the fuck has she taken? Seriously, she's on drugs, isn't she? Not that you'd be complaining if she was.

She's wearing her hair up in a ponytail the way she usually does. You don't like it, but you love thinking how you'll rip if off, release the brown waves. The thing that actually gets to you, though, is the fact she's wearing her nightgown and nothing else. The same black one you saw her wear that night, months ago. You can't help but wonder… what the hell's her endgame? What does she think she'll achieve with this?

Other than a killer hard-on from your part, that is.

"Not that I don't find it totally hot," you start after the silence stretches too long, "this little visit of yours I mean, but-"

"I don't know," she cuts you off and now the smirk morphs into something you can't read. Is that a sad smile, desperate grin or just a playful smirk meant to doom you?

Well, damn. You guess it's all three, all at the same time. But if she thinks she's actually gonna win this thing, whatever the game is she's come here to play, she's wrong. You were born for this shit, for these moments.

"Quit the games, Rogue," you tell and only after you've said it, you realize the mistake you did. You called her Rogue. You called her Rogue and you did it without hate, without contempt, without anger and sarcasm and that's not good. So not good.

She, however, doesn't seem to notice it - or if she did, she hides it pretty damn well. "I'm not playing a game," she sighs and only now her gaze falls down on the floor, "I needed to…" it takes a minute before she can say the words, form the sentence and you love it, enjoy every second of her struggle, "I needed to talk with someone."

Oh, sweet. "Go bitch at Jubilee," you pitch in with a snort. She's twiddling the lighter, guard stripped down and suddenly so completely nervous that you can almost smell her fears and doubts.

"I would…" she says then, lifting her chin and meeting your eyes again with the kind of defiance you live for, "She's home with her family and everyone else-"

"Fear you?"

Rogue rolls her shoulders and cocks her head, overthrown. "Basically, yeah."

Click. Click. Click.

You could chuckle out loud, that's how complacent you feel right now, but you suppress the urge. Instead, you move, start walking towards the wardrobe on your left. "Okay," you yield, voice low and husky, "But if you think I'm gonna let you ruin my evening plans, you're dead wrong."

"Oh?" She lets out, curious.

"Yeah." You open the wardrobe and squat, taking out a box buried underneath a pile of random clothes. Glancing to your side, you flash a smirk and say, "I'm getting drunk."

"Oh."

Once opened, the box reveals a collection of half drank bottles and still kneeled, you pick one up. "You know," you start lazily, open the bottle and turn to look at her again, "I find it almost hysterical that a week ago you fucking slapped me and now, here you are." You remove the cap and bring the bottle to your lips, taking a long gulp.

"Yeah, about that…" she fidgets, watching how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I'm sorry about the slap and all, but you were being an asshole and you know it."

You laugh, grinning. "Maybe I was. What can I say?"

"It's in your genes?" She offers with a sneer, "It comes so naturally?"

You quirk your eyebrows, amused. "Something like that."

She scratches the side of her neck and you take another gulp, watching her watch you and you wonder, where is this going?

"Here," she suddenly says and extends her hand towards you, the one holding the familiar Zippo, "I found it in the common room this morning. Thought you might want it back, seeing how fond of it you are."

How fond of it you are? There are about a thousand snotty remarks you could throw into the air, but you choose to ignore it and simply say, "thanks. I was looking for it." With the lighter back in your pocket where it belongs, you feel so much better. Stronger.

Another silence follows, with her on your bed, fidgeting and playing with her fingers nervously. You love seeing her that way, so self-conscious about the situation, but after a while you get bored.

Plus, you want things to progress.

"So? You needed to talk… go ahead and talk," you prompt, getting up from the floor. "What's on your mind, Roguey?" You sit next to her on the bed and immediately, she pulls away leaving a gap between you two.

"Stop that," she whispers, tucking a vagabond lock back behind her ear, "don't act so friendly when all you wanna do is smack me around the room."

Smack her around the room? Not exactly what you want to do to her, but hey, close enough… depends how you take it.

"You prefer I'll be bitchy and cold?" You ask and she nods, "Yeah, actually."

What the fuck moves this girl, you'll never understand. She doesn't function like normal girls but then you guess, that's probably why you noticed her in the first place. You don't want normal girls.

"Right," you say, snickering, "okay. I'll do my best." Oh Jesus, what a day.

This close, you can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, smell her. The sweet scent of her and her perfume mixed together, oranges and apples and you breathe in, slow.

"Okay. Here goes," she pauses then, turning to look at you and you could swear the wheels are spinning inside her pretty little head in the speed of light. "Do you mind?" First you don't get the question, but when she gestures towards the bottle you're holding, it clears up.

"Oh, sure, knock yourself out." Her fingers brush yours when she takes the bottle, reminding you of how soft her skin really is. She licks her lips before bringing the bottle to her mouth and something inside you wakes, kicks and whirls.

A few bottles later, Rogue's all relaxed and you can tell, because she's lying on your bed on her back, sideways and legs thrown over the edge. You're sideways too, one leg bent underneath you, the other touching the floor. This way, you get a better view.

So far she's been talking about random stuff, mostly about the things she's lost. Her family, friends, normal stuff like that and you're fine with it. It's actually been relatively interesting to hear about her life, to have her talk with you as if she didn't really detest you. She hasn't mentioned Bobby, not once, but you have the feeling she's slowly getting there with the help of alcohol, building up the courage to ask you things you rather left unanswered.

"You know what I hate?" She asks and you wake up from your thoughts only because she sounded more sober than a second ago. Something should probably be done about that…

"Mmm?"

"I hate it how after I've absorbed someone's mind into my own, I can still hear them speaking inside my head." She squeezes her eyes shut, grimacing and for a moment you wish you could take her pain away, "Weeks, months, years. It's like little voices echoing, all the time."

The pain you haven't caused yourself, naturally.

"Really?" You ask, a little surprised. Sure, you were aware of the side effects of her power, but obviously you didn't know the whole story. The last time she accidentally, because of a power surge not expected, ended up sucking in Wolverine's charming life force for a few minutes, the next four days everyone could tell it by simply the way she was behaving, speaking. Glaring.

"What are the voices saying?"

"Just… things." She opens her eyes again and looks straight into yours. There's something about the expression on her face that forces you to push further, just a little further.

"Can you hear me there?" You want to know, "can you hear my voice there too?"

There, her eyes leave yours, embarrassed, and she bites her lip again, which is when you realize it's her body's way of giving away her uneasiness.

You want to repeat the question, grab her and force her to answer, but you don't have to because after a moment of silence, she finally speaks. "Yeah," she confesses, "sometimes."

Oh hell, it just keeps getting more and more beautiful. "Is that so?" You tilt your head to one side, "What am I saying?"

"That I'm beautiful." The answer came right away, without any hesitations and your heart race increases rapidly. So does hers, though. There's a tempting shade of red on her cheeks and the fact you caused it, it strokes your ego. Big time.

"What else?"

Now she rises a bit, supporting her upper body with her elbows. "That… you know…"

"That I want you?" You offer mischievously and her face becomes serious like she'd just remembered something bad, something horrible. You don't let that bother yourself, though the whether you should be worried or not does cross your mind briefly.

"It doesn't have to tell me that," she states then, eyes flashing, "I already knew it."

"Yeah," you chuckle, feeling a familiar jolt go through your body, "guess I haven't been that subtle lately."

"Have you ever?" She gives a deep laugh letting her body fall back on the mattress and it creates a smirk on your lips as you answer, "No, I guess not."

She laughs, again.

That's enough, that's all you can take and the pain in your body is shouting, telling you to act. And since your mind seems to agree, you make your move. Your hand touches her leg and she shivers at the feel of your skin against hers. Your hand travels from her angle to her knee, all the while pushing the hem of her nightgown off. When it finally reaches it's destination, she gasps and grabs your hand, seizing it.

"But the thing that bothers me," she speaks in a trembling whisper, hand keeping yours captured just above her center, "it's that… the voice never tells me why. Why, John?"

This, you think, could very well be the most erotic thing you've ever done. Wow, that actually makes you pretty pathetic, doesn't it?

"Why what?" You question teasingly and grab her hand in return, easily locking it inside your grip. Without any kind of resistance from her side, you remove the hand and place it next to her. She doesn't speak, or move, or hell, even breathe.

Which gives you the perfect opportunity to move, lean forward and crawl your way on top of her. You're careful not to put any weight on her, so you're actually supporting your own weight on your knees and hands, eyes directly above hers. It's a wonder she hasn't screamed yet.

"Why would you want me?" She asks weakly, swallowing and you notice she's breathing again. Only instead of breathing, it's more like her gasping insanely for air every other second.

Why would you want her? So not the question you expected to hear, but well, what the hell. You can work with that.

"You hate me," she continues voice pitching, "you've made it so clear. So you wanting me, it doesn't make any sense."

Of course it doesn't.

"No," you whisper, lips so close to hers you can feel her breath encountering yours, "because you overdo everything, even thinking."

She's never seen the bigger picture, has she?

Her body jerks when your mouth touches hers, softly, teasing.

"Why are you here, Rogue?" Your mouth moves against hers and you suck in a quick breath as the growing pain in your middle stabs you nastily, "Why did you really come here? Wanted to get rid of that virginity of yours, just for fun?"

"I…" she stutters, "I already got rid of it."

Now it's your body jerking. You tense above her, fingers squeezing around the sheets and you pull your head back, glaring, "You what?"

Maybe she suddenly realizes the effect her words have on you or something, because when she speaks again, her voice has regained some of it's normal toughness. "I did it," she spits, "I went and fucking did it. Last Friday, after I… slapped you."

Okay, that's a plot twister you didn't see coming. Or fucking want, but it's not like that changes the outcome. Well, someone's gonna pay for sure, oh yeah.

"Who was it?" You demand through gritted teeth, angry.

Woah, Rogue was right, after all. You do want to smack her around the room a few times and then some.

"Who was it?" Something in your voice probably tells her it's better for her own sake to speak, come clean with it before things get real ugly and so she gives you a name, unwillingly. "Peter."

Oh for fuck's sake… come on, you can't be serious, no way. "What the hell, Rogue?" You don't know whether to cry or laugh. "You fucked Colossus?" Of all people, you fucked that idiot? That love sick jerk?

You sure have an exceptional taste in men, sweetheart.

"Yeah."

She frowns when you smirk viciously. "Funny," you chuckle, voice stabbing her, "how you seem to pick the guys drooling over the Cat Lady."

She's got to know it, everyone else knows. It's hard not to notice. All the longing glances, sad sighs and stolen touches, they tell the story loud and clear.

"Shut up!"

Is that why you did it, Rogue? You live for misery and pain, don't you? Always feel the need to create something more, something deeper and darker.

"You know it's true," you say, voice laughing, "Everyone knows that asshole has a huge crush on Ice's little slut."

"Shut up!" She repeats but with stronger, darker tone. She's getting heated and hell, you love that.

"Make me."

And she does.

How?

Well. She kisses you.

You're not prepared for it, for the way her lips attack yours, tongue fighting with yours over control. Her arms sneak around your back and force your body down on hers… and after that man, it's all raw, sinful heaven.

For hours.

I never really wanted you to see // the screwed up side of me that I keep // locked inside of me so deep // it always seems to get to me // I never really wanted you to // so many things you should have known // I guess there's jut no hope // I never meant be to be so cold
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Epsilon series