notouchzone (notouchzone) wrote in mutatedpsl, @ 2015-01-17 20:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | iceman, rogue |
Who: Rogue & Bobby
What: A road trip turned romance
Where: Across the USA
When: Present Day
Bobby Drake stared at the ceiling in the tiny two-bed motel room where he and Rogue were staying the night. He was lying on the bed, tired, but he was too restless to sleep. He thought about watching TV, but it seemed like every channel was covering the subjects of sex, dating, or the Legacy Virus. All three subjects frustrated him.
The news of the Legacy Virus had reached the public almost a week ago. It had shocked people to discover that not only was there a mutating virus out there for several months that they were just now being told about, but it was no longer targeting just mutants. Moira MacTaggert, a friend of the X-Men, had contracted the virus, and all indications were that she was eventually going to end up just as dead as the mutants it killed.
Like Illyana, Colossus' little sister. That had been a punch to the freaking gut.
So now normal people had found a new reason to hate mutants, because somehow it was mutants' fault that the Legacy Virus could now be spread to people who weren't X-Gene active. The irony would have been delicious it weren't so depressing: genetic discrimination was on the rise because a genetically-engineered virus had stopped discriminating.
News of the Legacy Virus had gone public in an MSNBC report that happened to have been playing on one of the TVs at an outdoor cabana in Key Largo, Florida where Bobby and Rogue had been dancing. The sound had been off, but the closed captioning made it clear what was being said, and all it had taken was one interested guy to tell his Spring-Breaking buddies about it. The next thing he knew, slurs were being thrown about left and right like rice at a wedding, and Bobby hadn't been in the mood to deal with it. He'd already been working overtime trying to keep Rogue from touching drunk college bros with her skin.
And that was its own special headache. What was up with Rogue, lately? Ever since she brought Bobby along on this road trip, trying to distance herself from Gambit and the coma she'd put him in, her behavior had been getting increasingly erratic. The same woman who had normally taken every precaution to keep from accidentally touching people in public was now finding every excuse to touch strangers. And she'd taken such precautions because all it took was a touch to absorb a person's physical strength, mutant abilities (if any), and psyche. It was always a temporary process, but traces remained. Rogue's head was a crowded place, and she was only making it more so for no reason he could see.
Not that his own head was empty. Well, that depended on who you asked, but Bobby's head was also a cluttered place. Not only with his own jumbled thoughts and frustrations, but with traces of someone else's psyche. And that someone else was rich, blonde, dressed entirely in white, enjoyed showing skin, and seemed constructed entirely to play mind games. He'd seen a few glimpses of her at the different places they'd stopped on their road trip. Sometimes she was a face in the crowd. Sometimes she was superimposed on a different person. Every single time she was haughty and judgmental.
Bobby let out a sigh as he lay on the bed. He couldn't take this. He had to get out and clear his head. He could hear Rogue in the bathroom, changing her clothes. She was probably going to go out partying again, and she was probably going to "innocently" touch some loser who was only going to make her feel worse about himself. Which means he was going to have to tag along and play chaperone.
Was it even worth it at this point?
He stood up from the bed and got ready to head out. Maybe if he got out of the hotel before Rogue did, he could actually have a little fun on his own for a change.
But of course, the bathroom door opened. Because that was just his luck
- - -
A trip far, far away from familiarity had been one of the few things Rogue hoped would help her cope with all the horrors in her mind. Running had worked before, but now, no matter how far she went or who she encountered, she was forced to remember. The memories were not her own, the guilt, the frustration, none of it was hers, but it still plagued her. It had made her angry at first, grateful even. Gambit could very well end up dead and it was exactly what he deserved for all the pain he had caused, but now? Now the screams and the suffering felt like her own doing. Sleepless nights and horrible daydreams were all that she had at the start of this trip, but one fateful brush of skin had changed all that.
Memories. Happy memories. Rogue absorbed enough to feel warmth course through her, enough that she found a few hours of sleep that were pleasant. All it had taken was a touch to make the pain go away and that was enough to encourage her to do it again. No touch ever lasted more than a few seconds, but it was enough. Enough to give her less harmful memories, to give her a moment of peace. It was like a drug. A drug that left the victim happy and the dealer ill. Her touch caused all sorts of reactions, from shortness of breath to fitful seizures. No touch she had willingly given since the start of this road trip had done more than cause a few bodies to people to pass out, but she was starting to need more. A second or two was not enough to keep the horrors at bay.
Bobby had started to pick up on her need to grab hold of warm flesh, had even stopped her from getting what she needed a couple of times. He received a glare every time, even a curse or two, but the night always carried on. Bobby was a good friend and deep down, Rogue knew he was trying to help, but damn if she would take it. He would never understand what was happening to her.
A warm shower and a change of clothes and Rogue was set to find a shady corner to hide in. She had not expressed her plans for the night with Bobby, the two growing more and more distance as her desire for a firm touch grew. She could handle herself and it was best if the boy just stayed at home. Especially with news of the Legacy Virus. If one of her touches went south, there would be a riot in the streets. She would be able to take care of herself, there was no point in dragging Bobby down with her.
The bathroom door opened and Rogue stepped out. Her top barely covered her breasts and the fabric was thin enough that under the right light there would be plenty to ogle. The shirt's sleeves were met at the wrist by a bare of gloves, but her bare stomach could cause enough damage if touched. She did take enough precaution to wear a pair of black tights under the short-shorts she wore.
"I'm goin' out." Rogue drew her gloved fingers through her damp hair, using the reflection of the dead television screen as a mirror to perfect her image. She had taken the time to darken her eyes and adorn her lips in a vibrant red. From the busted dresser she grabbed her keycard for the motel, followed by a wad of old bills should she actually need to pay for her own drink. Whatever identification she had was not joining her tonight. "I'll be back later."
- - -
Well, great. Rogue was going out. Again. She was going for a fix like a drug addict. Bobby could certainly see the signs.
He turned to look at her. She was actually wearing more than she had been, but the end result would be the same. She wanted men to get handsy. “You know I’m not going to let you go out alone, right? The Legacy Virus is all over the news.” He gestured at the TV set; it was off, but the top story was on endless repeat across every news outlet. “If anybody finds out you’re a mutant, because of the risk you’re running…”
He took a breath. He knew she could handle herself. She was like a flying She-Hulk, but still. “I’m worried about you. All that touching you’re doing … it’ll only make things worse. It’ll make you worse.”
He braced himself for the inevitable argument.
- - -
"That's exactly why you should stay here, sugar," she replied dismissively. If the window in the bathroom had been larger, she would have climbed out of and left him to stare at the ceiling. What else could he have been doing in this place?
As he continued speaking, Rogue had gone to grab her jacket. She had no plans to keep it on long, but it was still chilly out and it was a bit of a walk until she reached her destination. "Don't act like ya know what ah'm goin' through, Bobby," she retorted, but there was no venom in her tone. She just wanted to get out of the motel. "Ah'm just fine. Stop your worryin' and just focus on keepin' yourself together, a'right?" She slipped her jacket on and headed for the door, "I'll be back later."
- - -
Surprisingly, there wasn't the venom or defensiveness in her tone that he expected. This wasn't the first time they'd had an argument of this nature; it was becoming increasingly common. But there was a defeated tone to her words that saddened him. She didn't want to have this conversation any more than he did.
"Rogue, listen," he began as she started toward the door. He intercepted her, stepping between her and the door and icing up until he looked like an ice sculpture of himself. "We started this road trip because we're both going through some tough times, and we wanted to help each other through it, right?"
He sighed, dissipating his icy layer. "You know what? If you want to touch someone so badly? Touch me." He held out his arm, which he didn't quite realize was as cold as a corpse.
- - -
As he moved towards to block her escape, Rogue instinctively moved back, not daring a brush on her bare torso. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her gaze away, listening without letting him see how his words were affecting her. He was right, of course, this had started out as a way for them both to run from what tormented them. She had just selfishly taken control of it all.
He didn't understand why she didn't and something prevented her from confessing the reasons. Bobby always managed to make her feel guilty, even when she was trying so damn hard to not feel a thing. But if she touched, it wouldn't just be his powers that she took, it would be his memories. She'd get a full on Frost flash, but maybe it would help him forget. She had enough rattling around in her mind to give her a healthy dose of torment, what was a bit of the White Queen to add to the mix?
"If that's what ya want, Bobby..." She drew her hand up to her mouth and pulled the leather glove free with her teeth. She reached out and dropped her hand blindly onto his arm. It was only for a few seconds, but when she turned to finally look at him, she expected to find him a crumpled heap on the floor. The glove dropped from her teeth as she stared at him, "Bobby?"
- - -
Her turning away was part of what made him so exasperated that that he wanted her to touch him. Maybe while she was getting her fix, she would actually be able to see what she was putting him through, and what she looked like from his point of view. There was the risk of her absorbing too much -- such as the residue of Emma's personality -- but at this point he was beyond caring. He needed to get the point across. He didn't actually realize that he was already getting through to her before physical contact was made.
His body could feel sensations just fine even when his temperature was lowered. He never experienced frostbite, and his blood always managed to circulate just fine no matter how cold he made himself. But when Rogue touched his arm, he expected to feel something else besides her hand on his arm. A jolt, maybe, like static electricity? Maybe his soul was supposed to feel like it was being pulled out through his pores? He really wasn't sure.
Bobby was almost positive he wasn't supposed to feel like nothing happened. He looked at the spot on his bare arm where she'd touched him. "That's weird. Are you... uh, sure your power's been working?" If it wasn't, what did that mean?
- - -
Rogue stared down at her uncovered palm, clenching her hand in and out of a fist. Her fingers tingled with the cold of his skin, but there was nothing else there. No memories, no icy abilities, just cold.
"Gimme your other arm," she said, sounding determined now. She pulled her other glove free and tossed it to the ground before she clasped both hands against the coldness of his skin. She squeezed, the pads of her fingers pressing into the skin, but nothing happened. She just felt cold. Rogue started to laugh. "Where else are ya cold?" she asked, drawing her hands from his arm to ghost her fingers across the rest of him, testing his temperature. She let her fingers glide up his neck and under his chin, the continued chill only reassuring her idea. "It's the cold," she said, turning her eyes up to him. She was smiling, a smile that reached her eyes. It had been the first time in days. "I can touch you."
- - -
Bobby was relieved that there was no effect. Okay, good. He’d dodged that bullet.
Problem was, instead of sharing his relief, Rogue seemed to interpret this as a personal challenge. She seemed progressively more determined to touch him. Both hands on his arm, fingers ghosting across his skin, all the while she was laughing.
There was something utterly terrifying about this, because he kept expecting his luck to run out. Any second now, Rogue’s mutant power would kick in, and he would be taking a nap.
But somehow her power wasn’t kicking in. He tried to make sense of Rogue’s reasoning. “The cold? Why is it the cold? How does that work?” But she was smiling. He hadn’t seen that since a few states ago, when the trip had gone from something with a planned ending to a continuous state of being dragged from place to place, motel to motel, bar to bar.
She was smiling. So he decided not to ruin this with any more questions.
Well, except one: “Could you do that again?” Because he realized she had been touching him in ways he could certainly get used to.
- - -
2015-01-08 03:50 am UTC (link) DeleteTrack This
"Don't know, but it's workin'," she responded, her focus now on the path that her fingers had laid out before her. She was searching for any sign that the simple touch had harmed him. Nothing. He was perfectly fine. "Never touched a human Popsicle before."
She cupped her hands together, staring down into her shadowed palms. She had touched someone. Someone good, someone she could trust, and she had not absorbed a thing. Her excited heart was thudding so loud his words failed to register for a moment. "Again?" she asked, looking up to him through thick eyelashes. "You sure? If I'm wrong..." She drew her hand forward, hovering her fingers just over his left cheek. "I don't want ya to hate me, Bobby."
- - -
Rogue's reaction to this accidental discovery was fascinating to behold. As long as he'd known anything about Rogue, he'd known that her touch led to bad things. Her touch had hurt a lot of people, and it had tortured her on an ongoing basis. It deeply affected anyone she got close to, and he had to admit, it was one reason he'd considered her unattainable.
Suddenly, now she wasn't. Her touch wasn't hurting him, and it wasn't torturing her. Even if it turned out to be momentary, Bobby was happy for her. "I'm not going to hate you, Rogue. Ever. If I'm still immune, we can figure out why later and enjoy this."
He pressed his cheek against her palm, holding her gaze to let her know he trusted her not to hurt him. His skin was still as cold as it had been, and no transfer was being made. Testing the theory, he willed his skin temperature to rise closer to normal for a living human. He started to feel a tingling sensation, which graduated into a pulling sensation. Immediately he lowered his temperature back to what it was.
The pulling sensation ceased. "Holy crap, you're right!" As a victory, he hugged her, his cold body against her warm one. And for good measure, he kissed her wrist, right on her pulse. It seemed like the right thing to do.
- - -
"A lotta people say that, then they get hurt." There was a tinge of sadness to her tone, something that she knew would never go away. She had been inflicting herself on friends and strangers for years, and a lot of it had been willful. People got hurt when she was around. Some even wound up dead. But she had been granted a brief reprieve, a chance to feel. She was certain it would end too soon.
When he took her hand, she resisted the urge to pull back. She met his gaze, taking the challenge, and just waited for the inevitable. The coolness under her fingers began to dissipate and her shoulders hunched slightly, bracing for the flood of memories and power. There was a flash of Emma Frost in line at one of the many gas stations they had stopped at and then a coldness on her lips. Her breath had turned icy, but only for a single exhale. The temperature lowered and whatever she had taken from him was soon gone.
"Ya did that on purpose?" she asked, finding herself pulled firmly into his chest. It didn't matter that he was cold, just that she was being held. It had been so long...
And then he kissed her. It was gentle and unassuming, but it had been unexpected. "Bobby," she breathed softly, drawing her fingers along his jaw and into his mess of hair. "What am I gonna do with you?" she drawled mischievously.
- - -
The wisp of icy breath was a clue that she’d been transferred a tiny bit of his ability. And he didn’t feel like too much of his brains had been scooped out, so hopefully that was a good sign. The hypothesis – to borrow one of Hank’s expressions -- seemed to be holding up so far.
What was she gonna do with him? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? An entire world that had been denied her had just opened up.
He smiled, appearing to give the matter some serious thought. “Weeellll… you could touch me some more. Wherever and however you want. I offer my services as your friendly-neighborhood lab assistant and test subject.”
- - -
"Yeah? You sure ya wanna give me that kinda power?" The smirk remained as she ghosted her fingers down his neck to the dip left by his shirt. She had an opportunity to touch, to explore. She wanted to feel every inch of him. Every bump, every curve, every scar.
She ran her fingers over the collar of her shirt before her fingers slid over his clothed chest and to his slacks. There was no hesitation as she push his shirt up just far enough to reveal his hips to her. She drew her finger over the protruding bone, pleased to find it as cold as the rest of him. "You really this cold all over?" she asked, her voice lowered into a husky whisper. Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, excited by the simplest of touch she could give him.
- - -
“Sure, why not?” Bobby answered the question of giving Rogue power over him. “What could possibly go right?” His years of experience with the X-Men had taught him the value of not tempting fate, unless it was through reverse psychology.
Then again, judging by the hungry look in Rogue’s eyes, they were already tempting fate every which way. But damn it, he wasn’t going to refuse her, especially not when he wanted this just as badly.
She was unwrapping him like a Christmas present, touching him all the way and discovering how far the cold extended. “Neat bit of trivia about me: this actually my default body temperature. I have to concentrate to go colder or warmer. I never thought it would come in handy quite this way, but I’m not complaining.” He started taking his shirt off to allow her more real estate.
- - -
"Really? What other secrets have ya got, Bobby?" It had never crossed her mind until now that temperature had everything to do with her abilities. Why would it? Flesh had been all she needed to cause destruction and that had been enough to turn her off to the idea of ever having a healthy touch. But a selfish outburst had brought about a whole new world.
His shirt was off and she practically devoured the newfound flesh. Her fingers grazed along his flat stomach, tracing the outline of his ribs and his sternum. He would be able to feel a slight shake in her fingertips as her touch ascended. She was overwhelmed with need, desperate to keep the touch going. "It's been years since I've touched someone like this," she confessed, her eyes focused on the path her fingers made. "I never thought I'd get the chance again..."
- - -
"Just one," he admitted, trying desperately to keep up a charming sense of humor in the face of nigh-overwhelming lust. "But no matter how much you pry, you will never get me to reveal my passion for singing show-tunes in the shower. O-or the guys I made out with in college. Nope, n-never. Nnnnn-never..."
Damn it. Her hands exploring his chest made it difficult for him to keep up his monologue. He would leave it up to her to guess whether or not either of those secrets were true.
The sincerity of her experience was sobering for him. She really had gone a long time without something happening when she touched someone, hadn't she? He placed his hands on her bare midriff, sliding them slowly upward. "In that case," he whispered, "would you like me to kiss you?"
- - -
His humor was endearing. It was just one of the many reasons she had joined him for this impromptu road trip. Laughter went a long way, and with how grim things had become for Rogue, she thought a sense of humor would get her pretty far. She never expected it to lead to a night like this. His skin was so smooth and she found the coldness alluring. She couldn't remember the difference between warm or cold flesh, all she knew is that one led to despair.
The touch on her waist brought a gasp and she nearly pulled away. Despite how intoxicating his touch had been, she expected the worst. She may have been able to touch him, but what if...She had only just started to move back when she realized how ridiculous that thought was. Any touch could bring the worst and with how long he had allowed her to touch him, the worst would not come. He was allowed the same experience. Besides, it felt good and her skin prickled under his fingertips as it was exposed to a new touch.
"Why is it you gotta be the one to kiss me, sugar?" she asked, looking up at him through thick eyelashes. She slid on hand up his chest and along his neck, curling it into his hair before she drew herself up, her lips on his for an eager kiss. The touch was electrifying and her lips were made all the sweeter by her sugary lipgloss.
- - -
Rogue seemed startled by his touch on her belly, which he supposed he should have anticipated. Touching was a special experience for her, so it needed to be on her terms.
Even so, she seemed to relax and even welcome his touch, so he kept his hands where they were, feeling the contrast between her soft skin and the hard muscle underneath.
"That's actually a good question," he replied. "I'd like to think this could be an equal-opportunity sort of--MMMMF!" Her lips were warm and sugary and amazing. This was finally happening, long after he'd given up hope. He wrapped his arms around her body, pulling it closer to his bare chest. Their bellies touched as he returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm. He was light-headed for reasons he hoped had to do with the pleasure of the kiss, rather than any absorptive ability on her part.
- - -
Rogue felt a jolt of pleasure course down her spine, enveloping her entire being. It was warm and welcoming and she needed more. Her fingers tightened in his hair just enough to keep his lips close and her free hand slipped around his waist, running along his lower back and base of his spine.
Had he always been this solid? It had been easy to overlook Bobby. When he was around there was always smiles and laughter, the goofball persona a distraction from the rest of him. Or had she just failed to actually see him until now? There were a lot of handsome faces around, but it took more than looks to charm someone like her. It took someone determined, talented, charming, someone as eager to toy with her passion as they were to duck it. Remy had been the first to do that and more. Or had he?
The kiss parted, though she maintained their closeness. "Bobby," she breathed softly, looking into his eyes. "That was really somethin'." She smiled, though he would be able to tell just who had crossed her mind.
- - -
Bobby caught his breath as they came up for air. If anyone had told him he would end up topless and making out with Rogue, he wouldn't have believed it. The way in which she was kissing him and touching him was particularly surprising. Apparently, when her power was off, her touch energized instead of absorbed. Or at least, that was how it seemed to Bobby, who felt like he was touching a live wire.
"Yeah, 'something' is an understatement," he replied in a breathy voice.
He was just about to ask for permission to remove her top -- that way they could be even -- when he noticed a certain look in her eyes. "You're ... comparing me to Gambit, aren't you?"
- - -
"What? I ain't comparin' you to no one, Bobby," she said honestly. "It's just...what are we doin'?" She did not draw back, though her hands had dropped to his shoulders, ceasing their exploration. "Is this right?"
Her lips pursed and she brushed her tongue against her bottom lip. It was still cool, his taste still fresh upon the skin. It was intoxicating. "I don't wanna hurt ya, Bobby. I don't want ya to hate me. I like ya too much for that."
- - -
He noticed that as much as she was questioning the wisdom of what they were doing, Rogue wasn't pulling away, either. "It probably isn't right," he replied with what little brain functioning he had left. Her tongue brushing against his lips was making him weak in the knees, so he moved away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to form a coherent train of thought. "But I do want to be here for you, however you need me. And there's no way I could hate you. Because I like you, too. Well ... 'like' is probably not a strong enough word."
He took a breath. "I have feelings for you, Rogue. But your relationship with Gambit comes first. I may not like what he's put you through, but he's in a coma. This isn't fair to him."
- - -
Bobby was much stronger than she. He walked away and Rogue could only stand there, afraid that if she followed him to the bed they would not be leaving it until morning. She instead knelt down to retrieve her gloves, slipping them on as she made herself comfortable against the door. She could still run if she had to. He had given her that option by moving.
His compliments had her smiling, though it was a small gesture. She kept her eyes downwards and did her best to arrange her thoughts. "It's not fair," she agreed, "but the secrets he was keepin' from me, keepin' from the team...I can't forgive him for that." She looked up, folding her arms over her chest. "This is what he does to me, Bobby. He gets in my head. I should be focusin' on how good your skin felt under my fingers, how nice your lips were against mine, not Remy. Not anymore."
- - -
What was he supposed to say to that? She looked so lost, so hurt, and apparently she really had enjoyed everything they were just doing. He didn't want to deny her anything, yet here he was doing exactly that.
Rising from the bed, Bobby walked back over to her. "Then forget Remy. This trip doesn't have to be about him. It can be about us instead." He kissed her softly, pulling her into an embrace. If doing the right thing was hurting her, then Remy and everyone else would just have to deal with the wrong thing.