He paused in the door of the rec room, staring at the sight that greeted his eyes so unkindly. Rogue was straddling Warren's lap, grinding her hips against him, gloved hands playing over his chest as they kissed.

Kissed? How on Earth were they managing that?

But then he saw the ends of the sheer silken scarf trailing between them. Clever. He kept his intense gaze on them until Warren felt it, breaking the kiss. "Rogue," the winged mutant whispered against her ear. "Head's up."

Gloved fingers gathered the scarf as her dark eyes slid to the doorway. Her lips were parted, swollen slightly, her breath still quick, but she didn't move away from Warren.

Not until he pushed her off his lap, anyway. An unlady-like squawk parted her lips as she landed ungracefully on the cold metal floor. She glared up at him, but she saw the fear in his eyes. She stood up, straightening her clothing, watching the pair of them.

Magneto turned away. "Come with me, Rogue."

She shot Warren an angry glare as she heard his releived sigh. "You know better than that," she hissed at him. Magneto would be around for Warren, later.

Unwilling to prolong the wait, or make her impending punishment any worse, she hurried after Magneto. He went to his study, and she wasn't surprised. She'd dubbed it (in her own head, anyway) the Torture Chamber - lectures abound occurred here. At least for her. She wasn't sure how the others were punished.

Come to think of it, she didn't really want to know.

She stepped quietly into the study, wishing she'd had a chance to go ... shower or change or something. She could feel the slick wetness between her thighs, and was absurdly glad he couldn't smell it, like Logan would have been able to.

Rogue was braced for another lecture - though she couldn't fathom what she'd done wrong. Surely she wasn't the only member of the team to be fooling around within the team. Granted, that was her only defense - and a flimsy one at that.

Standing still in the lengthening silence, she tilted her head curiously. His back was to her, until he turned. There was a flash of something flying toward her, and before she could blink, metal cuffs encircled her wrists. Her arms were jerked above her head, high enough that she was suspended entirely by them; her feet were a good six inches off the floor.

Oh, holy shit.

She squirmed a little, but there was no breaking this particular hold. Once she'd reached that conclusion, she shifted her attention to him. A gasp of pain tore past her lips as the cuffs tightened, squeezing her wrists. Was he trying to break her arms?

"I believe there has been a little ... misunderstanding, Rogue." At 'misunderstanding' the cuffs tightened further, the metal biting painfully into her skin. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, but a muffled groan crossed her lips all the same. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, but she cocked her head back, to keep them from falling - at least as long as she could.

"Why did you come here, Rogue?"

Oh, jeeze. He wanted her to talk? "I ... I wanted to take control of my life."

"And are you in control of your life?"

As foolish as it might have been, to answer in the affirmative while she was in a position of helplessness, she nodded. "Yes."

"Really. I find that hard to believe." To emphasize his point, he lifted her higher, then guided her over one of the armchairs in his study. "You aren't in control now, are you?"

"I made a decision." She hissed the words between clenched teeth, fighting the pain in her wrists, and the vertigo that came from being bounced around the room by her arms.

"Was it the right decision, Rogue?" The cuffs tightened again, and she felt edges that hadn't been there before cut her flesh. She felt the blood trickling down her arms. He'd cut her? What the fuck?

"Apparently not. So you might want to tell me what the right decision is." She wasn't sure where she'd found the balls to say that, to his face, but once words were spoken, there was no taking them back.

He nearly smiled in spite of himself. There was the girl he was attracted to. The spitfire who'd sought him out, even after the Liberty Island incident. The Rogue inside Marie. "I think you know the right answer, Rogue." He let the cuffs slacken, and he lowered her gently to the chair, letting her arms descend as well.

She resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to check her wounds, letting her arms stay still where they'd fallen. She said nothing; his words weren't a question.

"Who do you belong to, Rogue?" His voice was soft, a low whisper as he moved closer to her.

"You." She lifted her head, eyes dark. "I belong to you." There was a certain thrill in admitting that.

He removed the cuffs, directing them back to his desk. Gloved hands cradled her wrists, gazing at the fine cuts that marred her skin. "You do belong to me. If you forget that again, it will be more than a few little cuts on your wrists." He released her hands, brushing his fingers through the white streak of her hair before he drew away from her.

She gazed down at the blood drying on her skin, and reasoned that was probably a dismissal to clean herself up. She eased out of the chair, and paused. "Are ... are you going to punish Warren? It ... he didn't start it."

Magneto shifted his cold blue gaze to her. "It doesn't matter who started it." He nodded her toward the door, which swung open for her. "Go clean up. I expect you back here before the hour's out."

She stared blankly before her eyes flicked to a clock. Ten minutes? She turned and bolted out of the room. If he wanted her back there, tonight, maybe he'd forget about punishing Warren.

Maybe she'd make him forget. There was no reason for the angel to suffer; it'd been her idea, after all.