Insatiable (18/?)

Rogue found herself, lying on her side, facing Creed as he lay sprawled out on his back.  He seemed relaxed in a worn out, contented kind of way.  His eyes were barely open, his breathing deep and slow. She studied him, noting how his arms seemed to ripple, the muscles bunch as he clasped his hands behind his head.  It made his torso even longer and lean.  He caught her staring and gave her a smug wink; her reaction was to quickly look away.

"I don't mind you lookin' baby girl, just means I get to look at you too," he said, his eyes lingering over her form.

Quickly jerking the dark sheet higher, Rogue covered her body.  The fact that she was in Creed's bed, lying there after what they'd done, still hadn't quite sunk in.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, but her voice held a hint of humor.  "You're ... leering."

"Leering?" he smiled wryly, "Baby this ain't leerin'." He tugged at her sheet, "This is leerin'."   She tried to bat at his hand in protest and Creed saw her wince as she moved too quickly.  She had to be sore after what they'd done.

"A little sore, huh?" he asked with a smirk.

Rogue cut her eyes at him because he sounded proud of that fact.  "A little."

She moved a safe distance from him and propped up on one arm with the sheet tucked securely around her.  He was still lounging and definitely exuding smugness at her pain.

Without thinking she blurted out, "Y'know, if I didn't have this collar - I could touch you and I wouldn't be the one in pain."

His amber eyes blazed at her and she caught her mistake.

"No, no," she shook her head, "I didn't mean - I mean I wasn't making a threat.  I meant ... well it's my mutation and you heal ... and that's why."

Creed's brow rose in confusion and his piercing look said she'd better explain.

"It's my skin.  If I touched you, I would probably heal up really quick, like you."

He still didn't say a word, making Rogue want to rattle on even more.

"It's just ... when people touch it - my skin - before they put this collar on me anyway; it's like I take in a part of them."

When she stopped, he motioned impatiently for her to continue.  The man at the auction had said her skin was her mutation and that without the collar, he couldn't touch her.  He hadn't asked for details and hadn't cared, but now he thought it might be a good idea to know just what the hell she meant by 'take in a part of them'.

"Like ... I get people's thoughts and their memories, but also the physical stuff.  If people smoke or drink, suddenly I might want a cigarette or a beer.  Or if they know Japanese, then so do I for a while ... but if they have a mutation, then I get some of that too - like your healing."

He didn't respond, only studied her closely and Rogue felt the need to say something more.

"When they caught me, before they collared a bunch of us, there was this girl - a mutant - and she could shoot these kind of fireworks out of her hands.  It was wild to see it, but ... we accidentally made skin to skin contact in the van because we were so piled in there and ..."

She didn't want to think about what had happened back then, but Victor was looking at her in a way that told her she'd better finish that sentence.

"I can't - I mean I couldn't control it; her mutation.  There were these crazy sparks flying and people screaming.  For days I craved watermelon bubble gum and the guards freaked out at all the damage and how I sounded different for a little while. That's when they clamped this damn collar on me.  Fast."

Rogue fiddled with an edge on the sheet to avoid eye contact with Creed.  She knew she'd just blurted out things that probably made no sense, but he was looking at her so intently, taking it all in - it made her feel like spilling her entire story.

"That girl the only mutant you ever touched?" he finally asked, sounding a bit possessive.

She nodded.

"You got her memories and all?"

Rogue shook her head, "Not a whole lot. We didn't touch for that long so I guess it has to do with the longer the contact, the more I get.  I don't really know; she was only the second person I've touched."

Creed scratched at the stubble that was growing along his cheek.  Well I'll be damn, he thought.  He'd figured her skin was just poisonous or something, like if you touch it - it burned you or gave you a rash.

"Who was the other one?  The other person you've touched?"

"A boy from school," Rogue said quietly, her voice taking on a sad note.  "That's when ..."

When she went silent, he prodded her to go on.  "When what?"

"When it happened.  When my mutation came out I mean.  I didn't know!"

Creed recognized as her scent took an anxious turn and she still wasn't looking at him, but had her eyes focused firmly on the sheets.

"I didn't know that I - that I would do that to him and it was just a kiss but all of a sudden it was like I could see stuff, his thoughts, his memories and then he started shaking and convulsing and he stopped breathing and ..."

"Hang on," Creed sat up a little.  "Stopped breathing?"

"Because of me," she whispered and choked on the words.  "That's what happens.  It hurts people when I touch them.  I don't just get stuff from them.  I take it!  It's like the life is sucked out of them or something and ..." Rogue's eyes were watering and Creed had heard enough.

"Whoa, whoa," he said, sitting up fully. He was in no way prepared or intending to comfort her, but he didn't want her getting all teary eyed in his bed either. "You didn't know.  It's not your fault all that shit happened. Th' little horn ball shouldn't have been trying to get lucky with you anyhow."

His odd defense of her made Rogue smile and dry up her few tears.  Actually, she'd already shed enough tears over that day and all the crying in the world hadn't made anything better.  All her tears hadn't fixed things at home, hadn't made her stop missing her folks, or made her want to endanger them enough to turn around and go back. No. No, crying was not the answer. But it did feel good to talk about it. It was weird, being able to talk about this with someone, especially someone like Victor Creed, but he just kind of listened and didn't freak out about anything she'd said.

Creed looked at his fawn, his little girl.  It's like the life is sucked out of them.

His dangerous little girl.

He'd had no idea the extent of her mutation; not that it would've stopped him from having her, but there was a lot more to her than met the eye.  It all kind of made sense in a way.  She was mature in some ways, stunted in others. Her inexperience with sex and her own body probably had everything to do with her mutation as well as a sheltered upbringing.  Her story made some things clearer, but also brought up so many questions.  There'd be time for that later.

Rogue had dried her eyes and was looking at him now.  "So see, it could be worse.  You could have a mutation like mine."

He couldn't help but snort derisively at her comment.

"Your mutation is great compared to mine," she argued. 

"Yeah, it's a real Godsend," he muttered. 

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Well it's better than mine," she insisted.  "To be able to heal!  I'd trade you any day.  It's a lot more useful than deadly skin!  I guess that's why the collar didn't upset me as much as it did some of the other girls.  I mean, yeah, it's a good defensive mechanism, but they weren't trying to hurt me anyway.  At least when they put the collar on, I didn't have to worry about accidentally knocking people out or getting the twisted thoughts of some of the guards.  My mutation wasn't really one that could've helped me escape unless I wanted to have the thoughts and memories of all those people."  Rogue shuddered at the idea.

Creed had to disagree with her on several points, even though he'd never say it.  First of all, it sounded like her skin was a hell of a lot more than defensive.  It could be highly useful if she were in a bad spot.  It could help her in ways she'd probably never imagined because she wasn't in the business like him - nor did her mind work the way his did. 

As it was now, she didn't need to use her skin and that 'damn collar' was going to stay on nice and tight.  Always.  Secondly, she might be right about his healing to some extent.  It saved his ass on many occasions, but it also made him a target for every sick fucker that wanted to exploit mutant-kind.  Been there, done that, he thought.  Hell, he'd done stuff he couldn't even remember and they'd taken so many of his real memories from him that he couldn't tell what was genuine and what was planted. 

He'd be damned if that was ever going to happen again.  The less people knew about him, the better and that included his little fawn.  She didn't know that not only his healing; but his hyper senses, his agility, his strength, and the barely contained animal that lay within made him the perfect killing machine.  And that's just what he was ... without regret.

He didn't resent his mutation like she did either.  No, he loved it.  He'd just learned that other people loved it too.  Loved what it could do for them.  Loved what he could do for them.  But no one used him now.  He did what he wanted and named his price and they all quickly learned who called the shots. Creed had his fair share of enemies because of it, so maybe his mutation was a blessing and a curse.  A blessing to him.  A curse to anyone that got in his way.

"So that's what I meant before anyway,"  Rogue's voice interrupted his thoughts,  "that you're healing and stuff ... and y'know if I touched you ... then I wouldn't be sore."  She looked away, suddenly bashful at bringing it up again.

"Well you'll heal just fine on your own," he said, lounging back.

"Yeah.  I guess.  But I bet you'd be better like that," she snapped her fingers.  "You don't even have to sleep that much, do you?  Because of the healing thing, I mean.  Do you ever even get really tired?"

His fawn was fishing again and he knew it.  Perhaps she didn't do it consciously, just naturally nosey.  Regardless, she wanted to know more about him; more personal stuff and things about his mutations. There wasn't any good that could come of it.

"Well I'm tired now, girl.  You need to rest too, so go on back to your room."

He abruptly waved towards the door, causing an offended noise to come from Rogue.  She eyed him like he'd thrown cold water in her face.

"Are you shooing me?  We're talkin' and -"

"And I'm tired now.  It was a nice talk and we can discuss more later.  I'm glad you told me about the skin thing, but you need to rest.  You're sore and you're gonna be tired so go get some sleep."

Rogue knew when she was being brushed off, and not too subtly either.  Fine then, she thought.  He could try to avoid her questions all he wanted.  He thought he was being slick about it, but he wasn't.  Creed insisted on keeping her in the dark about himself, but if he thought it was easy to brush off a teenage girl's quest to get what she wanted - he had another thing coming. 

She slid off the bed, snatching the end of the sheet to pull it off the bed and keep it wrapped around her.  Without a word she collected her clothes and refused to look at him.  No way was she going to be polite or talk to him if was going to be rude and run her off. 

"Goodnight, Rogue," he said to her back as she reached the door, amused at how stubbornly prideful she could be.

"Whatever," she huffed and walked out.

*****
Light poured into her room, making Rogue scrunch down under the covers even further.  She was exhausted and her head was killing her.  Wine and whatever that Russian thing was did not make for a great combination the day after.  Finally, her bladder couldn't be ignored and she scurried to the bathroom.

Returning to her bed she saw a small box and a glass of water on her night stand.  It was headache and pain reliever medication and he must have put it there.  Rolling her eyes, Rogue swallowed two of the pills. Victor, her owner, was so confusing it made her head hurt even worse.  He was rude one minute and doing fairly nice stuff the next, ignoring her one second and paying way too much attention a second later.

Rogue rolled her face into the pillow as all the images from the night before flooded her mind.  The pillow muffled her embarrassed cry.  She wasn't ashamed, at least not like when she'd first sat in his lap.  But still!  Had she really done that?!  She hadn't even protested!  And he'd hadn't been cruel or forced her or anything! 

Damn, it was driving her crazy!!!  Maybe it would be simpler if he were just an evil bastard owner.  But no, she didn't want that either.  Sure his unpredictable nature and mood swings were enough to make her want to scream, but to 'belong' to an abusive or sick maniac?  She would've died before staying in that case.

Things weren't perfect in her world, but they weren't all that bad either.  Some might say she had it better now than she ever had since her mutation came about.  They'd be right, but she wasn't ready to admit that yet.  In a perfect world she'd be back home with mom and dad, parents who still loved her no matter her danger.  No one would call her "sick" and she wouldn't have to run away or deny that love does have it limits.  But she didn't live in a perfect world, did she?

Rogue rolled over and forced the memories of her darkest days out of her mind. Immediately, thoughts of Victor Creed flowed in. Her hands on his muscular thighs, his arm around her waist, holding her up as her mind splintered with pleasure. 

Touching her face, it felt hot and Rogue knew she was blushing at mere memories. She'd confess everything to her journal later. It was her only source when she needed to vent about personal things and she desperately needed someone to share all the details with. There wasn't room for any kind of friendship because the fact was - she was a mutant and considered to be a pariah. No one would want to be friends with her, Rogue knew that. She wasn't even sure that her own family would care about her if they knew what she'd done. She wasn't married and still she'd had sex. And not just with any man. Her mother would be so ashamed if she knew.

Pulling the covers back over her, Rogue sighed out of frustration. Thoughts like that didn't make her as upset as they used to. She knew it ought to bother her. Maybe it was because she couldn't erase the vivid images of her and Victor that kept dancing through her mind. Or maybe it was because she'd found her place - whatever that was - in this world where there was no safe place for people like her.

"Didn't I take care of you today, baby girl?  Didn't I?"  He shook her on his lap when she didn't answer.

"Yes," came her small voice.

"That's right.  I did.  Not only did I get you things you'll need, but no one bothered you.  No one touched you.  You went out into this human world - to a mall - and no one tried to hurt you.  No one even looked twice."

Victor had promised to keep her safe and so far he'd stayed true to his word. Somehow she trusted him to not let anything happen to her. Rogue couldn't even remember how many times she'd thought about the irony of it all. He'd bought her like she was cattle and explained to her that she was his to do with as he pleased. When it came down to it she was little more than a prisoner, really, no matter what he made her feel. Victor would never let her come and go as she pleased. That was a fact and she hated it but somehow he was clouding her judgement.  

"You mean ... word will spread that I'm your property, so no one will bother me?" she asked quietly.

"I never told them you were my 'property'.  I said you were mine.  Those people don't know how it works."

What had he meant by that? Did it mean he cared about her? That he thought of her as more than just his play thing? She didn't dare ask him. It made no sense. He'd probably only ignore her question anyway, just like he'd brushed her off the previous night. What was he hoping to gain by acting like that, she wondered. Several times a week and ever since she got there he'd told her she was there to please him. But he'd pleased her too and she liked that side of him. It made him less intimidating but not enough to make him appear soft and gentle. And after intentionally cutting him just to watch him heal - she knew better than to pull anymore stunts like that again.  Ever.

She was in the lion's den, safe for the time being, at least until Victor Creed decided otherwise.