The Body #3: Rogue and Euphemia

Chapter 26 (Euphemia): Starving

I'm not certain at what point I stopped needing Rogue to spend the night and started just wanting him to spend the night. After three months had passed since that terrible night, I'd settled down inside about what I'd seen in that warehouse, about being kidnapped from Rogue's driveway. 

I'd been over to his house more than two dozen times since then, and each time the memories faded just a bit, and it just became Rogue's house -- not Rogue's house where I was kidnapped from. Rogue made certain that every time I came over, he'd made one of my favorite meals followed by my favorite dessert. He made certain we had wonderful evenings and only positive, upbeat vibes were allowed in the door.

 Since I couldn't really talk to a therapist about what I'd seen -- So then, doctor, after the president shot Bat in the face and shot Gel in the chest, the Feroce Body came in, guns blazing, and killed every single member of the MC; well, except the president and they kept him alive to torture him -- I'd been looking up articles online about how to deal with traumatic events and reading everything I could find. I followed their advice  and slowly worked through the whole nightmare. It was a process, but I gave myself time and and made sure I was gentle with myself so I could start healing that wound in my mind.

Somehow Rogue, who should have been the last one I'd turn to, had been the biggest help. He could tell when my feelings and emotions were closer to the surface than on other nights, and even though he always took incredibly good care of me, on those bad nights, he stepped up his already awesome game and pampered the hell out of me. Rogue ran me baths, made me tea, brought me chocolate, played soothing music, heated my towels and bathrobes, cuddled me close in bed and soothed me with soft words. He massaged me so I'd relax, rubbed lotion on my hands and arms, brushed my hair and sometimes he held me on his lap and whispered in my ear about all of the traits I had that he admired. It seemed to be a never ending list, which never failed to warm me.

Ironically, Rogue made me feel safe. His arms around me were the safest place to me. His steady breathing next to me at night reassured me, and his very presence calmed me and quieted those scary thoughts.

And I still didn't understand how to reconcile those feelings with a man I should feel completely unsafe with. Maybe life really was just a giant scale and everything that happened went on one side of the scales. Good side and bad side. Rogue had placed a very heavy bad weight on one side, along with some smaller bad weights, but since then, he'd been placing one good weight after another on my scale until the scales were much heavier on the good side.

It was that oldest of questions: does one horrible action outweigh the good a man does in his life? Does the one bad action negate everything good? Does the bad define him or does the good? Can one terrible action be forgiven?

I was leaning over Rogue one night contemplating all of these heavy questions when his hand came up and cupped the back of my head.

"I can practically hear you thinking, lady," he said in a low voice, his eyes on mine in the soft glow of the nightlight I preferred to sleep with now. "Care to share?"

"Maybe soon," I evaded. "So this weekend you become an official member of the Body?"

He sat up, back against the headboard, and moved me onto his lap.

"You still OK with it?"

"I told you not to factor me into your decision."

"Don't fool yourself that what I'm doing isn't ultimately for you, Effie. You decide against me and I'll still make sure you're protected. Always will."

"And does this protection also extend to financial stability?" I teased, needing to lighten the mood a bit. "Because very recently I've been getting calls for my organization services from Janie Feroce, Fiorella Di Spirito and some other Body women, all of them booking me starting next week. Isn't that a coincidence? You become a member of the Body and the very next week I have Body clients."

"Mind boggling," he agreed blandly. 

I leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Thank you for the business, Rogue."

His lips were suddenly hovering above mine and his hand was at the back of my head. "Thank me better than that."

His voice was rough, but whether it was from sleep or desire was undetermined.

I shifted in his lap and got my answer.

Definitely, unequivocally desire. Thick, heavy desire.

This was the first time that Rogue had ever asked for more intimacy from me since I'd come back to town. After that first day when he'd pushed his way into my apartment, he'd practically made a career out of not asking me for anything, no pushing, no crowding, no rushing. He'd let me alone in that sense, walking on eggshells so he didn't spook me into running away again.

My hand went to his cheek, and I pressed my lips to his. That was all it took. Rogue deepened the kiss immediately, like he was starving and maybe he was as malnourished as I was.

It'd been so long.

His tongue swept my mouth, his hand holding my head in place as his mouth devoured mine. His other hand moved under my silky sleep tank, finding my breast, shaping it, cupping it, his thumb flicking over my hard nipple until I was flooded with desire for this man.

It'd been too long.

Rogue moved me so I was straddling him, his hardness letting me know how much he wanted me, how desperate he was for me. He pulled my tank up and over my head and tossed it aside, and his eyes flared as he took in my naked breasts. He was starving.

I guided his head to my breast and he pulled my nipple into his hot mouth and nipped and suckled me, his tongue tracing patterns on first one breast and then the other. Was there a better combination than teeth, lips and tongue? I ground my pussy against his hard cock, but we were both in shorts and while the friction was delicious, we needed to be naked immediately. I needed more and was thinking that while foreplay was nice, fuck it tonight; I needed Rogue inside of me.

"I need more," I panted, my fingers clutching his hair so hard I was surprised he didn't protest, but when he looked at me, I could see how far gone he was.

"Oh, shit, Effie, I don't have anything with me," he groaned, his eyes closing in frustration. "Fuck."

I collapsed against his chest because guess who wasn't on anything? Guess who didn't have any condoms, either?

It'd been so fucking long.

"I'll get some tomorrow," he promised, his voice husky. "But for now, we'll have to get creative."

He flipped me onto my back, tore off my shorts, buried his mouth between my legs...and got creative until I was shuddering and crying out once, twice, three times.

Then I returned the favor, and we fell asleep tangled together, no longer starving.