The X-Mansion was a labyrinth of secrets and power, its sprawling grounds whispering with the hum of mutant energy. Rogue strode through the grand entrance hall, her black leather boots clicking against the polished marble with a rhythm that demanded attention. Her green eyes, sharp as cut emeralds, scanned the familiar chaos of the mansion—students darting about, powers flaring in uncontrolled bursts. But it was the hushed murmurs that caught her ear, snippets of gossip about a new mutant with a “bizarre second mutation.” Her lips curled into a smirk. Newbies were always fun to break in.
She rounded a corner and spotted him near the entrance, a scrawny kid who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, fidgeting like a deer caught in headlights. Ethan, she’d heard his name was. He clutched a tattered superhero comic to his chest as if it were a lifeline, his thick glasses sliding down his nose. Rogue’s gaze raked over him, taking in the awkward slump of his shoulders and the nervous twitch of his fingers. Easy prey.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” she drawled, sauntering over with a sway of her hips that could’ve stopped traffic. She towered over his gangly frame, her presence suffocating in the best way. “You lost, sugar, or just waitin’ for someone to sweep you off your feet?”
Ethan’s head snapped up, his eyes widening to saucers behind those ridiculous glasses. “I-I, uh, h-hi,” he stammered, his voice cracking like a prepubescent boy’s. “I’m Ethan. I’m, uh, new. And I’m a huge fan. Like, huge. Of superheroines. Especially you, Rogue. I mean, Ms. Rogue. Or, uh, just Rogue?”
Rogue arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, folding her arms under her ample chest, the leather of her jacket creaking softly. “Oh, darlin’, you’re just a walkin’ cliché, ain’t ya? A droolin’ little fanboy who can’t string two words together without trippin’ over his own tongue. Tell me, do ya always stare at women like they’re straight outta your comic books, or am I just lucky?”
Ethan’s face flared a shade of red that could’ve rivaled a stoplight. He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his worn sneakers. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’ve just, uh, idolized you for years. Your strength, your powers, the way you don’t take crap from anyone. I’ve read every article, every story—”
“Sweet mercy, kid, you’re gonna give me a headache with all that hero worship,” Rogue interrupted, her throaty laugh echoing off the mansion’s high ceilings. She tilted her head, studying him like a cat eyeing a particularly skittish mouse. “Tell ya what, though. How ‘bout we take this little chat somewhere more... private? My room’s just down the hall. Unless you’re too busy blushin’ to keep up.”
Ethan’s head jerked up, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Your... room? Me? With you? I mean, yes! Yes, of course, I’d—I’d love to. I mean, not love, like, not in a weird way, just—okay, I’m shutting up now.”
Rogue snorted, turning on her heel with a flick of her white-streaked hair. “Try not to trip over your own feet, fanboy. I ain’t carryin’ ya if you faceplant.”
He nodded eagerly, nearly dropping his comic as he scrambled to follow her down a secluded corridor. His sneakers squeaked against the floor, and Rogue couldn’t help but smirk at the sound of his clumsy pursuit. She led him through the winding hallway, the walls lined with portraits of past X-Men, her stride confident and unhurried.
“So,” she said over her shoulder, her voice dripping with curiosity and a hint of challenge, “word around the mansion is you’ve got some kinda freaky second mutation. Care to spill, or do I gotta drag it outta ya?”
Ethan’s steps faltered, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his oversized hoodie. “It’s, uh, it’s kind of embarrassing,” he mumbled, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. He avoided her piercing gaze, staring at the floor as if it held the secrets to the universe.
Rogue rolled her eyes, stopping abruptly to face him, one gloved hand planted firmly on her hip. “Listen up, sugar. We’re mutants. We don’t get to pick and choose what makes us weird. You own your quirks, or they own you. So quit squirmin’ like a worm on a hook and tell me what’s got ya so worked up.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shifted from foot to foot. “I... okay, fine. But you can’t laugh. Or, like, freak out. Promise?”
“Darlin’, I’ve seen things that’d make your little comic book brain explode. I ain’t promisin’ nothin’, but I’ll give ya a fair shake. Now show me before I lose my patience.”
Ethan hesitated, his trembling hands fumbling with his belt as he glanced away, his cheeks practically glowing with shame. Rogue’s brow furrowed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. And then, as he finally revealed his mutation, her jaw dropped, her expression flickering between raw shock and a morbid sort of fascination. Dual anatomy. Two of... everything. Down there.
“What in the ever-lovin’ hell—” she started, then snapped her mouth shut, stepping back instinctively. “Pull your damn pants up, kid! I didn’t sign up for a biology lesson!”
Ethan scrambled to cover himself, his voice cracking with desperation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—it’s just, I can’t control it sometimes, and if I don’t, uh, release, it builds up, and I—I could erupt. Like, literally. I need help, Rogue. Please, I don’t know what to do.”
Rogue stared at him, her green eyes narrowing as disgust warred with a begrudging intrigue. She crossed her arms again, her posture rigid, mind racing. This kid was a walking disaster, a ticking time bomb of awkwardness and raw, untamed power. And yet, there was something about his vulnerability, his desperate plea, that tugged at a part of her she didn’t often let surface. Compassion. Or maybe just morbid curiosity.
“Alright, fanboy,” she said finally, her voice sharp as a blade. “You’ve got ten seconds to convince me why I shouldn’t toss ya out on your scrawny ass. Start talkin’.”
Ethan’s eyes lit up with a flicker of hope, even as his hands shook at his sides. Rogue stood her ground, towering over him, her expression unreadable. Whatever came next, she was in control—and she’d be damned if this little nerd thought otherwise.
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