Adult-FanFiction.org : Marvel 'Verse

Season of Giving	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 5138 -:- 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
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- 2
Chapter 1: Unwrapped

Alone in my room as Christmas winds down – it’s always been like this, ever since the orphanage, ever since I was separated from my brother, Alex, who’d found a family to adopt him. Not having head trauma probably helped in that regard. Who would want to adopt an orphan with potential brain damage?
In the past, I was less bothered by the solitude. I’d lose myself in a good book, like I’ve been trying to do tonight; The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn just isn’t working, though. My mind keeps wandering, and I think I know why.
I guess I thought this year might be different, what with the Mansion full nearly to the brim with students, or the fact that I’d reconnected with my brother, whom I’d thought dead, at the start of summer. Unfortunately, Alex’s parents had already planned their annual Hawaii Christmas and couldn’t change their accommodations on less than six months’ notice. The Mansion is empty, for a week now, everyone at home with their families – everyone except me, the Prof, Mr. McCoy, and Rogue.
After our adventure in the city, chasing after the angel – a mutant named Warren Worthington III – my thoughts keep returning to Rogue. We’ve been friends longer than we have teammates, ever since getting paired together in English class to learn Henry V Act 5, Scene 2, where King Henry woos Princess Katherine of France after his stunning victory at Agincourt. That scene always felt a little off to me, though; it’s not like the Princess had much choice in the matter.
Anyway, I’m glad Rogue did have the choice to join the X-Men, and I’m glad she made it. Otherwise, I’d be more alone this Christmas than I am – more lonely, too. Besides, she’s been a huge asset to the team.
Note to self: avoid the phrase “huge asset” when describing Rogue.
Our interactions have been both more and less comfortable lately. She acted really awkward when she gave me a gift, a sweater, and I accepted it almost as awkwardly. I for one felt like everyone was watching us. On the other hand, shopping for her gift was a lot of fun. I’d even opened up to her about my belief in guardian angels, something I hadn’t told anyone else before – not my brother, not the Prof, not even Jean. The whole thing felt like we were on a date together.
I’m okay with that.
I wonder if she thinks of it like a date?
I’m okay with that too. In fact, I kinda hope she does. Due to her powers, she might not get many chances to date. More than that, though, I think I might want it to be a date.
What I feel for Jean is complicated, tangled within our long-standing existing friendship and my uncertainty about her feelings for me and my loathing for her current boyfriend, Duncan Matthews, a football-jock stereotype straight out of bad 80’s films.
By contrast, what I feel for Rogue is simple. I think she’s beautiful and sad and strong and sexy. We both have constant issues with controlling our powers, making us kindred spirits. We’re unburdened by our friendship, built as it is on relieving our loneliness, two orphans trying to connect with someone else.
A knock on my door startles me from my reverie. I put down my book and answer the knock by opening the door. I find myself staring into the jade-green eyes that have haunted my dreams of late. At least, I’ve been told they’re jade-green…
“Hey, Scott,” murmurs Rogue.
“Rogue… what’s up?” I was just thinking about you, I almost say. “It’s almost nine,” I say aloud, my mind already reaching for an explanation for this random-seeming visit. Curfew’s at ten – maybe she wants to hang out until then?
“Can Ah come in?” she asks, chewing her lip. Full and plump, it begs to be kissed. I try not to think about that just now and let her in.
Unbidden, my mind wanders – not to how kissing Rogue might feel, but to a conversation I overheard a few weeks ago. “Too bad that no one can put Rogue’s DSL to good use,” Bobby had said to the other new guys over cards.
“DSL?” asked Ray. “What’s her Internet connection got to do with anything?”
Bobby had rolled his eyes. “No, dude – ‘Dick-Sucking Lips,’” he’d explained. “It’s a real pity.” Several of the other guys nodded sadly. I’d wanted to blast him, but I was on the verge of running late for one of Wolverine’s Danger Room sessions.
The sound of my door closing calls my mind back to the present. Rogue and I are in my room, alone, with the door now closed and the Mansion all but deserted. If it were any other girl, I might wonder what she’s planning.
Then my mind catches up to my eyes, and I do begin to wonder.
Rogue and I are in my room, alone, the door closed, the Mansion all but deserted, and she’s wearing a bathrobe. I’m not sure what color it is – my guess is green – but it appears to be a smooth, somewhat shiny material. It covers down to mid-thigh, and I realize as I see them that I’ve never seen Rogue’s legs before today.
Unlike Jean’s long, lean ones or Kitty’s svelte, almost dainty ones, Rogue’s legs are chiseled, aerodynamic yet powerful, like a swimmer’s. I remember she told me she takes taekwondo, a fighting style that favors powerful kicks. I can hold my own in a straight-up fistfight, but I’ve seen her practicing and know that she’d knock me out cold inside of twenty seconds.
At the moment, though, Rogue is looking anywhere except at me. She’s taking in my relatively boring room, lacking wall posters or much else that most other teenagers might decorate their rooms with. I’ve got a computer desk and chair, a bed, nightstand, and small bookshelf; the larger items were provided by the Professor, while the smaller – that is, my meager library – is what little I had at the orphanage.
Rogue stares at the book on my bed, left lying open. “How can ya read a book with blank pages?” Her brow furrows.
“Huh? Oh, it’s, uh, it’s Braille,” I explain. “After… after the plane crash, I had some damage to the optical area of my brain, which left me practically blind for several years. The Professor thinks it might also explain why my powers are always on.” I feel a little nervous opening up to her about this, but I’d already told her I believe in angels, which is way more embarrassing.
Rogue looks at me in dismay. “And Ah’ve been lettin’ ya drahve me around all this tahm?”
I chuckle. “Well, it’s healed enough that I can see, but these shades are prescription.”
She smiles softly. “Ah think it’s neat you can read Braille,” she tells me, her voice as soft as her expression. “Whatcha readin’?”
“Huck Finn,” I answer. The way she wrinkles her nose indicates her feelings towards the book. It’s also a pretty cute expression.
Rogue bites her lip again. “Ah really lahked the CD you got me,” she says, and I get the feeling this is part of why she’s here. We both stand staring at each other for long moments. She fidgets. I try not to focus on how, due to our height difference, I can see a fair amount of cleavage even with the robe tightly closed.
“It makes mah gift seem pretty lame bah comparison,” she continues, and she’s now back to looking anywhere but at me. “So Ah thought Ah’d give ya somethin’ a bit more… memorable.”
Time slows to a crawl. I realize her hands weren’t fidgeting, but untying the sash around her waist. Rogue opens the robe, shrugs it from her shoulders, and lets it fall to the floor. My jaw drops.
I focus on her bellybutton; it’s a deep swirl in the middle of her toned abdomen. I don’t dare move my eyes. “Rogue,” I stammer finally, “why…?”
“You shared that thing about guardian angels with me,” she answers, “and Ah made you feel embarrassed. Now Ah’m… sharin’ with you and you can make me feel embarrassed. More embarrassed, that is. We can be even.”
My eyes flick up to hers, which are now fixed on mine. “This is me,” she murmurs, “all of me.” Rogue puts on a cheeky smile, one which almost but doesn’t quite suit her face. “Go on, sugah; look your fill.”
Almost against my will, my eyes take in the sight of her, all in shades of red. Not for the first or last time, I curse my powers’ need for ruby quartz glass to restrain them. I’ve been told her skin is pale, between porcelain and alabaster. I try to imagine it, without much success.
Rogue spins slowly, arms out, displaying her sculpted arms and shoulders. I’d noted already the tone of her legs and abdomen, but I find myself especially pleased by her taut rump. As Rogue turns to present her profile, I can’t help but compare her ample bosom to a rosin bag, like the ones baseball pitchers use – not the most flattering comparison, I know.
Viewing them head-on, though, they’re much more appealing. Large and teardrop-shaped, they seem to hang proudly from Rogue’s frame, the nipples crowning them even staring back at me, after a fashion. I wonder idly how they might feel in my hands; they look incredibly soft.
Rogue raises her chin in a show of confidence. “You’re welcome, sugah, for the contribution to your spank-bank,” she teases, dropping her hands to her hips.
I feel my face heat up. The image of Rogue in all her glory wouldn’t soon fade from my mind’s eye by any means, and I’m sure I’d be using it as fantasy fodder for quite some time. I just feel a tad embarrassed that she knew it and put it in those terms. Make that “a lot embarrassed.”
“Rogue… I don’t know what to say,” I tell her. “Thanks, obviously. But also, why?” I try not to stare at the thicket of curls concealing her groin.
“Ah done gave ya several reasons,” she points out, her drawl intensifying in her exasperation at my density. Her brazenness melts a little, and she’s back to chewing her lip. “They’re all true, but…” Rogue sighs. “Ah reckon Ah just... wanted you ta see me lahk this… whahl the opportunity’s available.”
“You mean, while this place is mostly empty.” She nods, her face taking on the look others say she gets when she’s blushing. I swallow. “I… It’s a pretty special gift, to see you… completely,” I assure her with a smile.
I note Rogue’s fingers digging lightly into her thighs, which flex and unflex as she stands. “You can, uh, sit down if you want,” I tell her, gesturing to the chair by my desk. I can’t help but notice the way her breasts bounce slightly with each step. I move to sit on the edge of my bed, as near her as I can get without risking contact.
Rogue lowers herself gingerly into the chair, perching just on the edge of the cushion. Addressing my as-yet-unasked question, she explains: “Ah don’t wanna leave a big ol’ wet spot in the middle of your chair.” She runs a hand appreciatively along the faux-leather. Despite her attempts to stay casual, I can see her thighs still clenching and unclenching.
“You’re pretty turned on, aren’t you?” I guess, an educated one. On several occasions watching R-rated movies with Jean, I’d noticed her legs rubbing together during the sex scenes and heard her breathing quicken and become heavy, as Rogue’s was now. In this case, of course, I also have Rogue’s erect nipples as evidence.
“Can ya blame me?” she asks rhetorically. “We’re alone in your room. Ah’m naked as a jaybird.” Rogue gives me a coy smile. “Ah noticed how much you enjoyed the view.” Her eyes flick down to my crotch.
I laugh, more nerves than mirth behind it. “You noticed?”
Rogue also laughs a little too, probably for the same reason, which helps us both relax just a bit. “How could Ah not? It’s… pretty dang noticeable.” She licks her lips, just the tongue peeking between them, really, but it sends a shiver up my spine all the same.
She leans forward, elbows on knees, chin in hands, sphinx-like smile on her lips, eyelids lowered. “If Ah could just touch you now,” she breathes, a note of longing in her barely-audible voice. I lean in, our faces mere inches apart, her breath just perceptible on my lip. Her sentence fragment leads my mind in a particular direction…
Our lips crash together as the dams inside our heads, holding in our passions, fail. Our tongues wrestle. Her fingers tangle in my hair. I scoop her into my arms, her flesh like fire against my fingers, to carry her to the bed. I deposit her. My hands trail all over her, discovering new worlds of firm and soft. She moans lustfully into my mouth and yanks my pants down to free me. She nibbles my earlobe and hooks her legs around my waist, pressing needfully against me. I enter her smoothly, in one stroke. She looks into my eyes and begs me to fuck her. I oblige. My hips piston back and forth. Her slick heat welcomes me, envelops me, drives me to bury myself deeper. She screams her delight to the heavens.
“We can’t,” Rogue sighs, pulling herself away, pulling me from my fantasy. “This is such a tease for both of us,” she laments. “Ah shouldn’t have done this.”
“Do girls get blue balls?” I ask, mostly to keep her from regretting this.
“No, but fellas don’t either,” she replies. “It’s just an excuse to guilt-trip a gal into puttin’ out.”
I feel my cheeks heat up again. “Sorry. I wasn’t serious…”
A wry grin spreads across her face. “If Ah could, Ah would. Ah’d never leave you… unsatisfahd.” Rogue’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively.
I swallow. “I hate to leave you hanging,” I tell her.
Rogue purses her lips and shakes her head sourly. “It’s mah own dang fault,” she answers. She crosses her arms, obscuring my view of her breasts.
“Do you… I mean…” I stumble. “Can I help somehow?” She shakes her head again, now looking at the window. “Not even… if I donate to your ‘spank bank’?”
Rogue shudders, from desire I hope. “Scott…” she murmurs.
“I have a plan,” I reassure her with what I hope is a charming smile. “You need to get off. I need to get off.” I paused, gathering my nerve to take this plunge. “Why don’t we get off… together?”
Green eyes slide sideways to gauge my seriousness. She’s clearly intrigued, if the longing gleam in her eye is any indication; but she’s also skeptical. She thinks, long enough that I’m afraid she’ll turn me down. “Ah don’t know if Ah want you seein’ mah ‘O-face.’ Kitty says it looks really silly.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“She walked in on me once,” Rogue admits sheepishly.
I laugh a little; that occurrence was probably inevitable, but it’s still funny for me to imagine the look on Kitty’s face as she phased through the door to catch her roommate and best friend pleasuring herself. Was it awkward between them afterwards? Did Kitty, naïve as she is, have a lot of questions, and did Rogue answer them? Did she want to try for herself? Did Rogue show her painstakingly just where to touch and how? Did Kitty already know all about it and offer to join in anyway?
Would they have shared that little secret with the other Sirens – Tabby, Amara, and Jean? Would the five of them have gathered after a long night of vigilantism and shed their clothes and stroked themselves into orgasmic bliss, watching and being watched? From there, would hands have begun wandering from one to the other, until their lips met and explored as well? Might feminine moans have filled the room as they relieved each other of the stresses of being heroines and being mutants and being sexually-frustrated, sexually-curious teenagers?
Steady, Scott. This is real life, not a porn; that sort of thing is wildly unlikely, given the personalities involved. Regardless, there’s no point in asking aloud, since I doubt I’d ever get answers to those questions anyway.
I try to think of what to say to set Rogue’s mind at ease. A few options present themselves, which I weigh in turn. I settle on, “I bet mine looks silly too.”
Rogue chews her lip. “Maybe it won’t look silly to me,” she theorizes, “since Ah… wanna see it.” I give her a grin, at which she rolls her eyes; I know she got the point. “And vahce versa.” She sighs, though I’m not sure if it’s resignation or anticipation. “If you’re sure about this…”
“Actually, I’m pretty nervous,” I admit as I start to take off my shirt. “I’ve never… in front of a girl… Undressed, I mean.”
“S-Same here,” Rogue replies, “for a fella. Ah nearly talked mahself outta comin’ here tonaht.”
I grin, both to reassure her and to express my gladness that she didn’t. I’m also grinning at the lean and hungry look in her eyes as they travel my torso. “I’m glad you didn’t. You’re gorgeous,” I tell her. “Most of the other guys would trade vital organs to trade places with me right now.”
Rogue giggles. “Ah hope you’d turn ‘em all down, sugah,” she quips.
“In a heartbeat,” I reply, now unfastening the knot in the drawstring of my sweatpants. “You’re, um, the first girl I’ve seen, y’know, like this.” In person, I think to myself, but I’m not about to admit that.
“In person, you mean,” she teases me with an all-too-knowing wink.
Damn you, Rogue. How’d you know? Based on the cheeky grin she wears, I think it might have been a lucky guess. Fortunately, I’ve got a pretty decent poker face, which I don.
My poker face is also necessary at this point because I’m pulling off my sweats and boxers. Now I’m as naked as Rogue is, and I’m feeling self-conscious. At least I’m fully erect; how embarrassing would it be if my dick suddenly had stage fright?
Her eyes linger on my erection. Her face just now is hard to read. Her mouth quirks. I’m about to ask, but she interrupts by snickering. A snort soon gives way to full belly-laugh. She points, still laughing. Unable to speak due to the spasms of her laughter, she doubles over. Still laughing, she falls out of the chair and rolls on the carpet. To add insult to insult, she kicks her feet in the air.
“Ohmahgawd,” she breathes, banishing that worst-case scenario my mind had conjured. Wide eyes fixed on my groin, Rogue uncrosses her legs and grips her thighs. “It looks… pretty dang big,” she pants. “Ah mean, not that Ah’d know; Ah never seen one,” she backpedals quickly.
“In person, you mean?” I quip drily, turning the tables on her.
Rogue nods. She immediately squeezes her eyes shut, and her mouth scrunches up like she’s kicking herself for falling into her own trap. “So sue me,” she challenges, a bit sourly. “This raht here is more’n Ah ever thought Ah’d get.” She waves her hand in a circle, as if to ask me to spin around like she did.
I comply. “No judgment here,” I promise her during my slow spin. “I’d be pretty hypocritical if I judged any girl for watching porn, but especially you, given… y’know.”
Rogue continues to stare at me; I can feel her eyes all over my body. Is this how she felt a little while ago? Maybe she doesn’t want to acknowledge what I said. I guess it doesn’t matter in the long run; the way she stares makes me feel less bad about staring myself, earlier and once I finish my rotation. As her hands slide upward, I wonder what sorts of things she might be imagining right now…
When she cups her generous breasts, one in each hand, pinching each stiff nipple between forefinger and thumb, and her full, luscious, kissable, nibble-able – okay, that’s not really a word – lips part and this soft gasp escapes to send a shiver all the way up my spine and down into my toes and into my dick which twitches in response and her eyelids droop just a bit as the sensations seem to wash fully over her consciousness, I know she’s accepted my offer.
I stroke myself slowly. As hot as this is, I know it’ll only get hotter. I don’t want my side of things to end too soon.
Meanwhile, Rogue’s breathing has picked up from the handling her softest flesh. I’m surprised she can compress them that much without pain, but it’s not like I’m any kind of expert on the texture and consistency of breasts. Her knees fall open, grabbing my attention and giving my first clear view of her most intimate area.
Below the well-groomed triangular patch of dark curls, her folds part, just enough for a slimmer, different-colored set to peek through. At the top, a small nub, looking something like a pencil eraser, protrudes; I can only assume it's the clitoris, which I’d read about in passing in one of the more detailed sex-ed books in the Mansion library, in the section reserved only for the oldest and longest-tenured students. That section remains under surveillance, and any unauthorized students caught there face severe penalties.
The jerk of Rogue’s body when her fingers make contact jerks my attention back to the present. Her hand now obscures my view, but I soon find myself mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of the hand, slow and steady strokes gliding along the delicate-looking area. Watching her pleasure herself stimulates me more than just seeing her naked – it’s more dynamic, more involved, more real. My body twitches when she emits a soft moan.
Something about her hand seems off, somehow. I can’t quite place it, even as I time my strokes with the curl of her finger. Her nails are short and well-kept, polished a dark shade as one might expect…
Ah. That’s what it is – Rogue is left-handed. How had I not noticed that before?
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My focus zooms out from her pussy to her whole demeanor. I feel less bad about staring when I see Rogue’s gaze fixed on what I’m doing. Her eyelids droop just a tad. She’s biting her lip. Her own breaths hiss through her nostrils. Her right hand pinches and tugs each nipple in turn.
A mewl escapes her. Her mouth now hangs open, luscious lips framing perfect white teeth. There’s a sort of squishing sound; a brief glance verifies that her pussy now glistens with arousal. I catch a faint scent, an aroma faintly musky and alluringly feminine, unlike anything I’ve smelled before.
On impulse, I climb off my bed and kneel in front of her, my face closing in on the source of the scent.
“S-Scott… what’re ya doin’?” Rogue breathes, her alarm barely tempered by her arousal. Her hand moves so I can see better.
Without another word, I lean in to taste her, to sample that nectar, the essence of her femininity. Rogue tangles her fingers in my hair, pushes me closer so my tongue can explore. She practically howls, so loudly I fear she’ll wake someone…
I blink the thought away, though I still wonder what Rogue might taste like. “Don’t worry,” I soothe. I lean as close as I dare and exhale, my warm breath washing over her glistening folds. Her whole body shakes. I return to my bed; I only stopped stroking to prevent finishing so soon.
“Sweet tap-dancin’ Chrahst,” Rogue moans through wide-open mouth, her eyes squeezed shut. When she opens them a moment later after a steadying breath, she levels a smoldering glare at me. “Y’ almost made me trah ta jump ya, damn the consequences.”
I smirk.
“Damn tease.” Our hands resume their previous motions, though it’s not long before Rogue slides her middle finger inside her and I speed up. “Gawd, Ah want you so bad,” she moans.
“I, uh, can’t say I’d turn you down, Rogue,” I reply.
Rogue’s lips quirk into a half-smile just before another moan erupts from her throat. Her finger pumps in and out at an increasing pace. My hand follows suit, and I feel myself twitching every so often as my pleasure builds.
Rogue spreads her legs a bit wider and raises her right foot so the heel rests on the edge of the seat cushion. Her index finger joins the middle in in its increasingly-frantic pistoning, her juices gleaming on her digits when they’re not fully sheathed within her. Her hips begin to rock in counterpoint to the motion of her fingers fathoming her depths. Her toes start to curl.
My own hand works along my entire length, synchronized as closely as I can manage to her fingers. The sounds of her slippery pussy eagerly enveloping her fingers embeds itself into my memory indelibly, coupled with her now full-throated moans. The tightening feeling in my balls tells me I’m nearing my peak as well. I groan through gritted teeth.
Rogue lets go of her breast. She runs her now-free hand through her hair before letting it fall onto the armrest of my chair. Her hand gripped the plastic tightly as her whole body wound itself taut.
I watch her breasts – her tits – now freely bouncing with her movements. I picture her kneeling before me and nestling my dick in the deep valley between the soft, fleshy mounds. I imagine her rocking her body, just as she was in reality, to move me between her tits; and just to add to the intense pleasure she leans down and opens her mouth and takes me between those plump, perfect lips…
Okay, I admit it – she does have DSL.
I groan. My hand is covered in the warning drippings. I’m past the point of no return.
Rogue’s eyes, gleaming in the faint light, filled with a deep yearning I could fully empathize with, are fixed on me. I think she senses the pending finale as well. Her beautiful eyes are glazed over, as though she’s holding herself on the edge so we finish together.
“Ohhhh, Scott,” she murmurs, “Ah want ya to… ta cum all over me.”
I nod and lurch to my feet and stagger toward her. I lean over, my hand on the desk behind her for support, our faces dangerously close to each other. I feel her panting with barely-restrained need on my neck, just as I might want her to, under other circumstances where I’m inside her and she’s under me or atop me or bent over the bed and she begs me to cum inside instead…
Streams of jizz fly forth from me, which I probably could’ve aimed better if I’d had more time or better focus. Her eyes widen when she feels the first one hit. The second causes her brow to knit together. As the realization hits her, I see in Rogue’s eyes the exact moment she climaxes. She utters the most guttural sounds I’ve ever heard from a human throat, as though what just happened was the most erotic thing she could’ve imagined.
Or, more accurately, the most erotic thing she thought would ever happen to her.
As my awareness begins to return, slowly, the first thing I feel is her breath on my lips. I feel a faint tingle all over, that strange anticipatory sense one gets when one is just about to touch another. My vision clicks back into focus, and I realize that our faces are mere millimeters apart, on the verge of locking lips in the throes of passion, despite the consequences. Now is when I most acutely feel the separation between us; those millimeters between us might as well be miles, a gulf, a chasm too broad to be bridged. My heart sinks at the thought that this is as close as we can get – near, but never touching, as though we were part of some grand asymptotic function.
My strength begins to wane as the climax subsides. I manage to step back enough to flop onto my bed. I lean on my elbows, huge grin plastered to my face.
Rogue’s face is a mirror of my own. Her breathing comes in staccato gasps as she pulls her fingers out. Brow furrowing, curiosity written on her face, she runs her fingertips through the evidence of my orgasm. I can see lines of the stuff all over her stomach and splotches on her breasts and even her neck and few dribbles in her pubic hair. “Thanks,” she whispers, “but Jackson Pollack you ain’t.” She giggles.
Enthralled by the sensation, Rogue rubs her fingers together. She holds up her hand to study how the light affects it. In a sudden, unexpected move, she licks the substance off.
My jaw drops.
Rogue glances at me sheepishly. “Ah was curious,” she explains with a hint of defensiveness. “This maht be mah only opportunity,” she adds glumly.
“You’ll figure it out someday,” I reassure her, reaching for the tissue box to share for cleanup.
“Someday,” she snorts, accepting the offered tissues. Rogue looks glum now as she wipes herself clean.
“I have faith in you, Rogue; you’re a resilient woman.” Even though I don’t know how it’ll happen, I really do believe, deep down, that she’ll gain full control over her powers one day – probably before I will. I give her a warm, genuine smile.
Rogue smirks. Different from her other smirks, this one I recognize as her jaded-cynic smirk, the one she uses to shield herself from disappointment. That smirk of hers always makes me a little sad, because it signals, to me anyway, that she’s given up hope.
I wish I could help her hope again. When I see that smirk, I feel like a terrible leader and a terrible friend, like I could do more, be more, for Rogue somehow. I guess I still have a lot of work to do on that whole “inspiring leader” thing.
I’ll do it for her.
Rogue’s voice breaks me from my musing. “It’s near curfew,” she reminds me. “Ah reckon Ah better go.” She stands, knees a bit wobbly.
I want to reach out and steady her. I’d really like to hold her right now, maybe kiss her, maybe ask her to stick around so we can wake up together in each other’s arms, her face the last thing I see tonight and the first thing I see in the morning.
I settle for handing her her robe, a warm smile on my face. I settle for dressing myself quickly while she puts her robe back on, definitively ending our encounter, the cloth serving as a proxy for the walls she puts up between herself and others – understandably so, given her circumstances and experiences, but frustrating all the same. I settle for walking her to the door.
I want to kiss her cheek, at least. I want to take her hand in mine. I want to show her what tonight meant to me.
I can’t. I settle for a warm smile and a hollow-sounding “Thank you, Rogue.” More meaningfully, I add, “I’ll never forget this.”
Rogue bites her lip, coy and shy all at once. “Merry Christmas, sugah,” she purrs. She shakes her hips as she walks down the hall. She turns the corner and is gone.
“Merry Christmas, Rogue,” I reply, too softly for her to hear before closing my door and going to bed, falling immediately into a deep dreamless sleep.
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A/N: My Christma-Hannu-Kwanzaa-kah gift to you, my readers! Though not labeled "Challenge," this story is a result of a request for a Rogue/Scott fic by my one of my "fans" on this site (a longtime reader, anyway), Daye; I wrote it months ago, but I wanted to wait for the appropriate season (and, intentionally, today is the anniversary of the airing of "Angel Wings"). This story is also inspired by Wizeguy's "Christmas Gift" elsewhere on this site, and one of my favorite fanfics of all time. I chose not to use any sort of contrived method to let them touch, instead opting to explore how these two characters might do sexy without being able to do sex, if you follow; this proved, I think, particularly rich for exploring how the characters might have functioned in a relationship, had the show's writers pursued the Scott/Rogue angle they'd been setting up throughout Seasons 1 and 2. I chose to write from Scott's POV because he's one of my favorite characters and he sometimes gets a bad rap from fans; I chose present-tense verbs to preserve (I hope) an "in-the-moment" feel and in order to experiment a bit with stream-of-consciousness writing. Please feel free to leave me your feedback - comments and criticism alike - via rating or review; I look forward to reading your thoughts on this story.
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Season of Giving