"Hell?" Gojo repeated, a playful smirk curling on his lips. "Oh no. More like heaven from where I'm standing."
Rogue exhaled in relief, relaxing once she fully registered who it was. Gojo casually made his way to the bed like he owned it, flopping onto it with his hands behind his head. His unnatural blue eyes—almost too beautiful to be real—locked on her with quiet amusement.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," he said, voice as silky as always. "I'm just here to spectate... a work of art."
His gaze slid from her messy hair to her flushed lips, lingered at her inviting neckline, then dropped to her cleavage and full, perfect chest. 'At least a double D's,' he thought, mentally nodding to himself with appreciation. His gaze continued—flat stomach, graceful hips, strong legs. 'What was that female artist who sang… if you can see it from the front, wait till you see it from the back…? Eh, no matter.'
Rogue sighed, rolling her eyes fondly. "What am I gonna do with you?"
Still smiling, she moved over to him and straddled his waist, her legs resting on either side. She leaned in, kissing him. Gojo didn't hesitate—dropping his ever-present personal telekinetic shield like it was second nature, his hands sliding instinctively to her waist. He returned the kiss with real hunger.
When they finally pulled apart, Rogue gave him a look. "So… what have you been doing?"
"Oh, you know," Gojo replied in his singsong tone. "Just out there gracing the public with my magnificence… and finding new ways to look even better. For their sake, of course."
He punctuated that sentence with a quick kiss. Then another.
"Gojo," Rogue groaned, suppressing a smile as his hands moved up slightly, tickling her sides in that maddening, pleasurable way.
"What about you?" he asked.
"Well," she said, sitting up a bit, "Logan's been putting us through the wringer. Training's been brutal. And guess who's partially to blame?"
Gojo blinked, guilt flickering across his face. "I, uh… oops?"
"Yeah. Oops. That's why I'm all sweaty."
Gojo grinned. "Getting all sweaty isn't always a bad thing, you know."
Rogue laughed softly, her voice dipping with warmth. "Yeah…"
She slipped off his lap and sat beside him on the bed, looking thoughtful. "You know I want us to move forward. And I know you want the same too. But…"
Gojo remained quiet, eyes soft as he watched her speak.
"But can we… keep things like they are for now?" she said gently. "It's been a while since I last… you know."
Gojo's expression brightened, lips twitching. "Since you last had the rabbit dance?"
Rogue gave him a hard look. "Be serious, Gojo. I mean it."
"Okay, okay," he said, hands raised in surrender. "Take all the time you need, Anna. I'm not in a rush. We'll get there eventually."
Her eyes softened. "Thank you."
She leaned forward, brushing his lips with hers once more before standing. "Well, you might not mind me being sweaty, but it's really annoying my skin. I need a bath."
As she turned, her hips added an unintentional sway to her soft, round and tempting ass. Gojo's eyes followed with no shame at all.
'You go on about not being ready, then walk away like that? Damn girl… seeing it from the back is so much better.'
She disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water echoed gently through the room.
Gojo stayed put, arms behind his head again, staring at the ceiling.
'I wonder how my pet project Wilson's doing?'
He shrugged mentally.
'Eh, I'll check on him soon enough.'
Activating his X-ray vision, he scanned the mansion—new mutant students walking around, some laughing, others training or talking in hushed voices.
'How precious,' he thought. 'All of them just living… unaware of the hate outside this place. Or maybe they do know… and just pretend it's not there.'
He sighed, turning the vision off as the steady rhythm of the shower splashing against Rogue's skin reached his ears. His hearing, like everything else about him, was far beyond human.
Eyes closed, he simply listened.
---
The metal door to the Brotherhood's hideout creaked open, groaning in protest as Mystique stepped inside. Her piercing yellow eyes swept the room, and the sight that greeted her made her jaw clench.
Empty chip bags, soda cans, and burger wrappers littered the floor. A faint odor of cheese, sweat, and microwave death hung in the air like a bad omen.
Her boot squelched against something tacky. Gum. She looked down in disgust.
'Ugh. Degenerates.'
"Get up, you lazy excuses for trained mutants!" she barked, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze of junk food and juvenile apathy. "While you're all lazing around here and sleeping off burgers, Charles' kids are probably training their asses off! And you wonder why they always defeat you? And in front of the entire planet no less!"
A completely unmanly shriek rang through the room as Pietro Maximoff the self-proclaimed fastest man alive jerked awake, tumbled off the couch, and landed face-first in a puddle of congealed cheese dip.
Next to him, a gangly teen with a hunched back and a face that somehow managed to look both sly and stupid slid into a discarded pizza box. Mortimer Toynbee Toad shot out his tongue, slurping up the remaining slices in a single, revolting sweep before smacking his lips with a wet, mucous-coated slurp.
Mystique curled her lip in revulsion.
"Hey lady, you here for a ride?" Toad leered, trying his best at what he considered charm.
Pietro groaned, still half-buried in plastic, already bracing for the storm about to hit them all. Toad's croaking attempt at flirting with Raven Darkholme was always the fastest way to get yourself hospitalized.
The choking sound that followed confirmed it. Mystique had already started the day's lesson.
"What's the ruckus? Can't a guy sleep 'round here?"
The floor groaned under the weight of the Brotherhood's heaviest member as Fred Dukes Blob dragged himself upright. His massive frame swayed with every step as he blinked around the room, squinting at his sprawled-out teammates, then at Mystique. And then, he laughed.
Big mistake.
"That is enough." Mystique's voice was ice. "From today, your training will increase in duration and difficulty. You will hone your powers to their limits… and beyond. But for now, get lost. Go to school. Before I lose my patience."
"And what if I don't?" Blob asked with a lazy smirk, thumping a hand against his chest as he loomed closer, eyeing her defiantly.
Mystique didn't blink. With perfect balance, she stepped forward and snapped her leg up—her heel striking Fred square between the eyes and nose. Before he could even groan, she pivoted mid-air, redirected the same leg, and drove it straight into his groin with punishing force.
Blob's eyes bulged as if about to pop from his skull. He collapsed like a crumbling wall of flesh, groaning on the floor beside the others.
"Do I need to say it again?" she said coldly, brushing a strand of crimson hair from her face.
'He might be immovable… but he's certainly not invulnerable.'
A low chuckle came from one of the few still standing—Dominic Petros, Avalanche. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, quietly amused by Blob's collapse.
Just then, the door to one of the bedrooms swung open and followed by the swaggering teenager Pyro who looked at the downed mountain of flesh and scoffed.
"Huh. What a loser."
Mystique didn't respond. She simply gave them all a look that could curdle milk.
The effect was instantaneous.
Five teenagers bolted like mice from a flame, tripping over themselves as they scrambled toward the bedrooms. Pietro, already dressed and present five seconds later, stood sheepishly in front of her.
"Um… Mystique. Did you talk to my father recently?"
"I did." Her tone was clipped, her eyes unreadable. "He's in a particularly foul mood as of late. He has Sabretooth on a mission I'm very interested in. But for now, I have a task of my own."
As she spoke, her form began to shift. Blue skin melted into ivory. Her crimson hair receded, replaced by a rich brunette shade pulled into an intricate ponytail. Her golden eyes dimmed to a common sky-blue. Her frame subtly curved and narrowed, clothes morphing into a sleek white blouse tucked into tailored navy trousers, accompanied by a navy coat and heels that clicked smartly against the filthy floor.
Hormones flared across the room. A few of the boys stared longer than they should have.
"Don't be late to school today, and be present at the compound by 7 PM sharp."
She turned, grabbed a soda can off the cluttered table by the door, and without even glancing hurled it over her shoulder. It spun once in the air before clanging right between pyro's eyes, snapping him out of his gawking trance.
"And Pietro—come with me. We've got business elsewhere."