For disclaimer see part one.
***
Bobby, as it turned out, was fine. Well, fine in the sense that he was recovering - thanks to a phone call she'd made while she was on the run, disguising her voice using a technique Logan had used more than once - and it seemed that he didn't remember anything at all about the night in question.
Which was good or bad, depending on your point of view.
She and Logan eventually decided it was good. In fact, it was fucking wonderful. The progress of her plan meant that no one had to know what she'd been doing, who she had become. Bobby had been so drunk on her, so unknowing of what he was doing, that they were counting on him not saying anything out of sheer embarrassment.
Besides, she didn't need him anymore. She'd had the 'real life' experience she wanted so badly.
And it still wasn't enough.
At different hours throughout the day, various people would come up to her and ask how she was doing. She assured all of them that she was fine, just fine, but after the twentieth person inquired, she - and Logan - were ready to rip their head off. Knowing they were quite capable and seriously considering it anyway.
They were just being nice. She and Logan knew that. They were just being friendly. She and Logan knew that. They were just being concerned. She and Logan knew all of that. That didn't mean they didn't want to stick nine inches of metal into them, spin them around and pound them onto the floor in a bloody, pulpy, mess.
Her toes tingled.
She liked the image.
{Time for training,} Logan told her.
Feeling him smile, her own beautiful, astonishing smile graced her features.
*
A tight black leotard, black tights, black form fitting top and black gloves may have been very practical and sensible for someone who was about to beat the shit out of a boxing bag.
The black heels weren't.
It was sometime after three am. She walked quietly - even in the heels - until she reached the gym. Pausing outside she inhaled heavily, assessing the mixed scents; old sweat, a little blood. Bodily fluids of any and all kinds. Someone had fucked in there recently. She could smell it.
Pushing open the door she smiled when she found it - as she knew it would be - empty.
{Jean.}
Yes, Jean. Jean had sex in here with Scott, less than two days ago.
Logan growled. {Jealous of their Olympic sex sessions, are we?} Rogue taunted, slowly pulling off her hooded coat and throwing it to one side as she approached the bag.
{Not so much as I'm sorry I missed it.}
Bending over she stretched slowly, carefully, knowing it was important. She could almost feel his hands running over her thighs. {If I could touch one of them and get away with it, you know I'd do it for you.}
A hand massaged her ass. {I know.}
After a few more stretches he spoke again. {Marie, as much as you love them and as much as they make you look fantastic, you're gonna have to take the heels off.}
Pouting - not really meaning it and knowing he knew that - she slid to the floor and slowly, slowly, pulled them off.
Oh, she liked the delightful buzz in her head. He was enjoying this.
{No chance that I couldn't.}
Chuckling, she stood up and faced the bag.
{Ready sweetheart?}
{Yes, pookieface.}
He laughed.
She lunged.
*
Nearly an hour later, her clothes were soaked through with sweat. She enjoyed the slickness, the heat, the saltiness. And her tension was almost gone.
Then. Noise.
It was as if her ears lifted up and swivelled round in the direction the sound was coming from. Pausing her attack she turned her head towards the door, and smirked.
{Well Logan, you know who that is.}
{Took her longer than I thought.}
{She's here. That's what matters.} Turning back to the boxing bag, Rogue continued her training with far less ferocity, half-hoping that Jean both would and wouldn't notice how damaged it was.
The door to the gym swung open; no creaking, no squeaking, just a smooth, efficient nothingness.
You had to admire the Professor's upkeep, you really did.
The new scent assaulted her senses immediately; that smell, that glorious smell that immediately overpowered even her substantial odour. Over the sweat, over the lust, the new smell wafted in and made her mouth water.
{Jean.}
Kicking the bag one last time, Rogue carefully lowered her leg and turned to face the woman she now knew was standing just ten feet behind her.
No one else. Just her, Jean, and Logan. In the dark.
Logan smiled at the same moment Rogue did. And licked his lips.
***
TBC
back to part five - five vs. one