Genre: PWP
Pairing: Rogue/Pyro
Word Count: 2K
For Kink Bingo
Kink: Sensory Deprivation (touch)

They were alone, almost; stuck together at the mansion while everyone else was out for various reasons. Pyro and Rogue, responsible for the kids. Not a problem given how they were all sacked out dead asleep, but Rogue had been bitching about needing to sleep herself, and he'd followed her to her room, verbally sniping and poking and prodding and essentially being the same son of a bitch that he always was.

Their fight started the way almost all of them did. He stood too close; touched where he shouldn't. Essentially, he refused to give her space.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Rogue snarled at him, eyes hot with fury. "You need to stop touching me! Even if I did want you to, it wouldn't matter!" She held up both hands, shaking in their pale satin gloves.

"Oh, so that's it." Pyro bit back at her. "Bobby's such a saint, is he? Is that what makes him a good boyfriend? He doesn't... what? Doesn't want to touch you? He's all, what? Safe?" He made the word sound like the insult he meant it to be. Rogue whitened, her skin almost matching the stripe in her hair.

"Bobby is good for me." She lifted her chin defiantly.

"But he doesn't get you hot." He narrowed his eyes at her, stepped up into her space. She glared back, refusing to give an inch.

"Like you could do any better."

"Oh, I could do better." His fingers curled around his lighter, wanting to flick it open and remind her just how hot it could get.

She leaned forward just that tiny bit that had their breath mingling. "Then prove it."

Looking at the stark shock on her face he honestly didn't know who was more startled at her challenge, and after the first instant of gut wrenching surprise, he didn't care. "Deal," he growled.

He walked into her, pushed her backwards with his body. She went passively, still shocked by her own outburst. She came to a stop when her calves hit the edge of the bed and she sat down. "No," she said firmly, suddenly coming back to herself as he reached for her shoulders. "No. I'm not letting you hurt yourself to make some stupid point."

Pyro felt his lips curve and was sure that his smile wasn't pleasant at all. "Don't worry, Rogue. I don't need to touch you for this." He gestured sharply, and she glared but slid back against the pillows. He dragged over her chair, sat back in it, legs wide and feet spread. His jeans pulled tight over his thighs and he rubbed his hands over them a little to dry them, smirking when he saw her eyes follow the movement.

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine," she gritted, flopped onto her back against the pillows. "Go ahead. Make me hot"

Pyro grinned. "Gladly." He leaned back, studying her.

She was dressed for bed, in those silk pyjamas so many women seemed to like. A nightdress might have been better, but he found himself appreciating the glide of silk against equally exquisite skin. He let his eyes slide over each curve with slow deliberation, watching with pleasure as Rogue twitched a little under the weight of his gaze, her breath quickening. Her body pushed up against her clothes, the friction giving her goose bumps and making her shiver a little.

"Are you cold?" He asked in a low voice. Rogue stared at him, wary. He licked his lips, turned over his wrist so that his hand was turned palm-upward on his thigh. He relaxed his fingers, cupping them slightly. With his other hand, he flicked open his lighter. She tensed in anticipation. With a small smirk, he clicked it closed, flexing his open hand just a little at the same time. She relaxed.

"I like your pyjamas, Rogue," he told her softly. "They look comfortable. All slick and smooth." She wriggled a little. "I bet they feel great against your skin." His eyes fell on the spaghetti straps holding up the little shirt. "I'll bet you can feel every place it touches you, like a whisper. I'll bet you can feel the press of those straps against your shoulders, like a finger laid just so."

Flick.

Tense.

Click.

Relax.

"Can you feel it against your stomach, Rogue?" He let his voice soften more, hypnotic. "Can you feel it against your legs?" She shifted under the pressure of his voice, shuddering a little as the movement made the silk slide all over. Her eyes drifted closed, and he took the opportunity to ease open the lighter and start the flame almost silently. Her nipples had tightened into tiny little points, and his mouth literally watered with the desire to wrap his lips and tongue around them. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse. "Like the lightest touch of hands. Can you feel it?"

He gathered the flame, just the tiniest bit of power, shaped it to his will. He couldn't remember ever having focussed on anything so tightly before, ever. Biting his lip, he gathered the fire into a sphere of gently heated air. He flexed his fingers, breathing it out over her body in a delicate caress.

Rogue gasped, her eyes flying open and her body arching off the bed as the sensation rolled up her body. Pyro stared, the smile having fled his face long before. God, she was so fucking responsive - he wanted to touch, damn it. He shifted in the chair, adjusting himself to relieve the pressure against his jeans and deliberately letting her see the effect she was having on him. Forcing her to see.

Rogue's breath left her and she swallowed hard, closing her eyes against the intensity of his. "Oh, yeah. You can feel it," he said thickly. This time when he gathered the power he kept it tightly focussed, shaped it like his hand, defined it precisely in his head. When he reached out his fingers the power went with them.

He drew a single languorous mental finger down the line of her body, feeling the response of her skin as clearly as if he'd used flesh. Rogue moaned, arching into the heat and pressure, begging wordlessly for more. She kept her eyes tightly shut and her face turned away, but he could almost taste her response on the air. He turned his hand, cupped his fingers, and moved the caress of heat to the curve of her breast. God, he could feel the weight in his mind. His fingers twitched with the need to touch her for real, and she surged up as his mental fingers reacted as well, brushing across her nipple.

"Tell me, Rogue. Tell me you can feel it," he demanded softly, his words shaking with the effort of forcing them out of his dry throat. He continued to slide power over her skin, playing with the reactions he could wring out of her. Her silence annoyed him, and he snapped his fingers, tweaking her nipple tightly between opposing pressures of heated air. He was rewarded with a half-moan, half yelp.

"I can feel it, damn it." She sounded breathless and pissed, and he wanted her so badly he thought he'd burst with it.

Maybe if he went with yes or no. "Does it feel good?" His hips were starting to rock a little in place. She nodded, licking her lips. "I can feel it too, you know. Just as if I were touching you for real. I can feel every breath, every hair, every cell like this." He stretched out his fingers, slid that mental hand down her ribs to caress her stomach, Lower. "I can feel every shiver, Rogue." Her stomach clenched, and she gave a tiny abortive jerk of her hips as he paused at the line of her pyjama bottoms. He moved his fingers ever so slightly, kneading her belly like a cat. She writhed under him. "I wonder." His breath caught as an idea came to mind. "I wonder if I could taste, too."

Rogue whimpered, her fingers twisting in the covers on the bed. Pyro released the power he held, feeling the warning pulse of an incipient headache behind his eyes. Not that he cared. It would take a freaking nuclear explosion to make him stop at this point.

He took a moment to gather his strength, clicking the lighter closed to help him focus. Rogue was breathing like she'd run a race, breasts rising and falling enticingly under the chemise. Her eyes glittered at him through her lashes, challenging. Tousled hair from tossing her head curled around her face. Pyro closed his eyes, concentrated.

Flick.

An image formed in his mind: himself, forged by power, fully fleshed as a creature of fire and air. He could feel the heat rolling off his creation and gritted his teeth, gentling it into something human ... or mutant... skin could safely handle. This time he sat absolutely still. When he concentrated, it was his construct that moved. It moved like exactly what it was - an extension of his desire, and he couldn't tell where it left off and he started. It was as though it was him.

Pyro parted his lips, leaned forward, and took Rogue's nipple between his teeth, compressing it lightly before drawing it deeply into his mouth and sucking strongly. She cried out, bucking against the sheets at the unfamiliar pleasure. Her hands reached for him, passing through the air impotently. "Pyro!"

The sound of his name on her lips was almost as sweet as the flavour that burst over his tongue. God, it was amazing. He could actually do it, taste her through the fire he controlled, and it was the hottest thing he'd ever felt. He damned the silk keeping him from tasting her skin. A moment later his hands were sliding down her sides to bracket her hips. His fire-born mouth followed, tasting greedily. "Rogue," he breathed, squeezing her hips rhythmically. "I could stop here." She moaned an incoherent negative. "Do you want me to stop?" God, if she said yes it would kill him.

Luckily Rogue had always found it easier to tell him no.

Pyro bent his head, struggling to keep his focus and not give in to his flesh and blood body's urging to get the hell over there already. He slid his heat-wrought hands down the outside of her thighs to her knees, then back up on the inside. Reflexively she parted her legs, and Pyro pressed his mouth against the very centre, wishing he could taste her for real.

Rogue took in a huge shuddering breath and shattered under him, crying out as wetness burst onto his tongue.

Pyro lurched, concentration shot. The fire he'd been controlling roared out in a bright flare of light, and he retained barely enough control to snuff it out hastily. He opened his eyes to see Rogue still writhing with the power of her orgasm, and the sight was the last straw. He groaned through a throat raw from harsh breathing, and his hips jerked helplessly as his own release rolled over him. He slumped in her chair, his vision greying out at the edges. Rogue curled onto her side on the bed, her hair falling to obscure her face.

He was frankly glad for the chance to regain some semblance of control. Coming in his pants, for Pete sake! By the time Rogue shook back her hair he was upright in the chair, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place. "So what did I win?"

"What?" Her face was still slack with pleasure, eyes dazed.

"I got you hot. Without touching you. What did I win?"

That got her attention, snapped her right back into the here and now. She was just starting to splutter at him when there was a knock at her door and Bobby strolled in without waiting for an invitation. Pyro grinned as he watched the realisation of how close they'd come to getting caught flit across her face.

Bobby sighed as he took in the irritation on Rogue's face and the amusement on Pyro's. "Don't you guys ever stop?" He demanded with a combination of affection and annoyance, crossing to the bed to place a hand over Rogue's gloved one. She smiled up at him, but Pyro saw her shift to hide the wet spot on her pyjama pants. It made him think of his own mess, and he wrinkled his nose and stood.

"Why would we stop? It's the best entertainment in this place," he retorted easily. Rogue narrowed her eyes at him, a flush climbing her cheeks. "I don't think I'll stop for a long, long time. Not while it feels this good." He stepped towards the door.

Bobby shot him a confused look but shrugged. Rogue still seemed unable to speak. Pyro paused in the doorway, toying with the lighter in his hand. He snapped it open, closed, open, closed, with each tiny spurt of flame sending a pulse of heat against Rogue's still quivering silk-covered groin. "We'll work out the terms of my win later," he said generously. Rogue glared back at him murderously, but unable to speak. Bobby turned to her.

"What was the bet?" He asked innocently.

Pyro laughed as he went through the door, shutting it behind him.

Flick.

-30-