The hookup with Rogue? It exploded like a short-circuited neural link—sudden, scorching, and so damn inevitable it made my skin tingle just thinking about it. Everything had been building up in that dim Afterlife booth, the tequila burning warm down their throats, loosening words and inhibitions alike. Rogue spun tales from the old wars, her voice low and gravelly, painting pictures of firestorms and betrayals that mirrored V's own scars from the corpo world. V sat there, legs crossed under the table, feeling utterly exposed under that piercing gaze—her voluptuous body shifting restlessly, those full, heavy breasts rising and falling a little faster with every breath, nipples tightening against the fabric of her top. Her hips adjusted on the seat, that subtle ache building between her thighs from all the solo gigs' leftover adrenaline. Rogue's stories weren't just talk; they were foreplay, drawing V in deeper, making her feel seen in a way that stirred something raw and hungry inside.
Then Rogue's hand moved—slow, deliberate—sliding under the table to rest on V's knee. The touch was electric, fingers firm through the thin material of her pants, tracing lazy circles that sent shivers racing up V's spine. Rogue leaned in closer, her cyber eye whirring softly as it took in every flush on V's pale skin. "You've got real fire in you, girl," she murmured, voice like smoke curling around them. "Raw, untamed. But fire like that... it needs the right fuel to burn bright. Someone to stoke it, control it."
V didn't pull away—hell, she leaned into it, her breath catching as Rogue's hand slid higher, palm gliding up the inside of her thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to where heat was pooling fast. The solo runs had left her wired, all that pent-up energy twisting into this deep, throbbing need. Jackie had been sweet, protective, almost brotherly in his passion; but Rogue? She was pure dominance, power wrapped in leather and scars, and it made V's core clench with anticipation. "Then show me," V whispered back, her voice coming out husky, modulated purr kicking in without thinking. "Show me how you fuel a fire like mine."
Rogue's smirk was predatory, lips curving as she stood, tossing eddies on the table for the drinks. "Upstairs. Now." No question, just command—and V followed, heart pounding, hips swaying a little more as they climbed the hidden stairs to Rogue's private loft above the Afterlife. The place was stark, mercenary-chic: panoramic windows overlooking the sprawling neon chaos of Night City, walls lined with dusty relics—old katanas, shattered cyberdecks, holo-frames of long-dead legends glowing faintly. The city lights bathed everything in shifting colors, casting erotic glows across the room like a private show.
As soon as the door sealed, Rogue was on her—pushing V back against the cold window glass, the chill contrasting with the heat of their bodies. V gasped at the impact, the sprawl glittering behind her like a million watching eyes. Rogue's mouth claimed hers in a fierce kiss, no gentleness, just hunger—lips bruising, tongue invading with authority, tasting of tequila and experience. V moaned into it, hands fisting in Rogue's silver hair, pulling her closer as Rogue's palms roamed possessively. Those strong hands gripped V's wide hips first, fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling her flush so their bodies molded together. Then up, kneading the firm curve of V's ass through her pants, squeezing hard enough to make V arch and whimper.
"God, this body of yours," Rogue growled against her neck, teeth grazing the pale skin as she worked the laces of V's top loose. "Built for sin, isn't it? These curves... driving everyone mad." The fabric gave way, V's heavy breasts spilling free into the cool air, nipples hardening instantly under Rogue's gaze. Rogue didn't waste time—mouth descending hot and wet, latching onto one peak, sucking hard while her tongue flicked and teased. V's head thunked back against the glass, a loud moan escaping as pleasure shot straight to her core, breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Rogue switched sides, teeth nipping just enough to sting, hand cupping the other breast, thumb rolling the nipple until V was grinding against her thigh, desperate for friction.
Clothes came off in a frenzy after that—like shedding old chrome for something newer, sharper. V tugged at Rogue's leather jacket, peeling it away to reveal the fixer's body: lean and scarred, firm breasts with piercings that glinted in the neon light, toned abs marked by old war wounds like badges of survival. V traced them with her fingers, lips following, kissing down Rogue's neck as they stumbled toward the bed. "You're beautiful," V breathed, voice thick with lust. "All that power... scars and all."
Rogue chuckled low, pushing V down onto the sheets. "Flattery gets you everywhere, kid." She pinned V's wrists above her head with one cyber-enhanced hand—cool metal grip unyielding—while the other trailed down, popping buttons, sliding pants off V's hips. V lifted to help, kicking them away, revealing smooth thighs and the slick heat between them. Rogue's eyes darkened, drinking in the sight: V's hourglass laid bare, breasts quivering with anticipation, hips wide and inviting, ass sinking into the mattress. "Look at you... spread out like this. Mine tonight."
Fingers dipped lower, parting V's folds, stroking slow and deliberate. V bucked, moaning loud as Rogue circled her clit with expert precision—teasing, building pressure without mercy. "Please... Rogue," V gasped, body writhing, breasts bouncing with each arch. "Don't tease."
"Who's teasing?" Rogue murmured, sliding two fingers deep inside, curling them just right while her thumb kept the rhythm on V's swollen nub. V cried out, walls clenching, the pleasure coiling tight and hot. Rogue leaned down, mouth on her breast again, sucking in time with her thrusts—deep, insistent, driving V higher. "Surrender to it, V. Let go. Feel how I own this body right now."
The command tipped her over—orgasm crashing like a netdive gone wrong, waves of ecstasy ripping through her, thighs trembling, back bowing off the bed as she screamed Rogue's name. Rogue didn't stop, drawing it out until V was a panting mess, oversensitive and begging.
But V wasn't one to stay passive long. Adrenaline surged, her own strength kicking in—she flipped them with a twist, mantis blades staying sheathed but her grip firm as she straddled Rogue. "My turn," she purred, eyes gleaming behind Kiroshi optics. Lips traced those scars, tongue dipping into Rogue's navel, hands cupping firm breasts, pinching pierced nipples until Rogue growled low in approval. Lower still, V settled between Rogue's thighs, spreading them wide—tongue delving in, lapping slow at first, then faster, fingers joining to thrust deep. Rogue's hands fisted in V's raven hair, hips bucking. "Fuck... yes, just like that," she hissed, voice cracking with rare vulnerability. V hummed against her, vibrations adding to the torment, sucking on her clit while fingers curled inside. Rogue came hard, body tensing, a guttural moan echoing as she rode the waves.
They tangled after, bodies entwining in sweat-slicked rhythm—scissoring together, breasts pressing, hips grinding in perfect sync, mouths devouring each other until mutual peaks hit again, leaving them breathless and laughing softly in the haze.
In the afterglow, Rogue lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazy in the neon glow, her arm draped possessively around V's waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on her hip. V nestled close, head on Rogue's shoulder, feeling that warm, sated buzz mixed with the city's distant hum. It wasn't love—nothing that soft in Night City—but it was easy, casual, like two predators sharing a den for the night. "That was... intense," V murmured, tracing a scar on Rogue's abs. "Didn't know you had that in you."
Rogue exhaled smoke, smirking. "Kid, I've got layers you haven't scratched yet. But you... you're a natural. Fire and silk all wrapped up." She stubbed the cig, rolling to face V, eyes serious now. "This? Us? It's casual. Good release, good chemistry. No strings messing up biz. But you're mine in the game now—my network, my protection. Let's make it official."
V raised a brow, body still humming. "Official how?"
Rogue reached into a drawer, pulling out an old-school tattoo kit—no fancy laser, just raw needle and ink. "A mark. My symbol—the Afterlife skull. Right here." Her finger traced the curve just above V's ass, on that wide hip, sending fresh shivers through her. "Shows you're under my wing. Doors open, enemies think twice."
V hesitated a beat—the corruption sinking deeper, that thrill of possession twisting with the pain she knew was coming. But it felt right, binding her to something bigger, hotter. "Do it," she said, voice steady, rolling onto her side to expose the spot, ass curving invitingly.
The needle buzzed to life, pain sharp and immediate as Rogue worked with steady hands—inking a stylized skull laced with neon veins, glowing potential under blacklight. V bit her lip, body arching slightly with each prick, breasts quivering, a soft moan escaping as endorphins mixed with the sting. It hurt like hell, but in that good way—marking her shift from lone wolf to favored player. Rogue paused to kiss the skin, tongue soothing. "Hold still, beautiful. Almost done." Finished, she admired it, lips brushing the fresh ink. "Perfect. Welcome to the real legends, V. But marks like this... they come with strings. Debts. Favors."
V twisted to see, fingers tracing the raised skin, a dark thrill settling in her gut. From solo merc scraping by to Rogue's marked protégé—hooked in flesh and ambition. The night faded casual, no clingy promises, just shared smokes and lazy touches before V dressed and slipped out at dawn.
But Rogue wasn't done. Days later, in the Afterlife's back booth again—tequila shared, casual brush of hands— she slid a data shard across. "Big one coming. Militech's got a black-site facility buried in the Badlands—prototype AVs, neural-linked drones, the works. Client wants infiltration: blueprints, sabotage if you can swing it. High risk, high payout. 100k eddies, plus favors from me."
V's pulse quickened, danger and reward mixing like a potent booster. "Militech? They're no joke—security tighter than Arasaka's vault."
Rogue's hand squeezed her thigh under the table, possessive. "Exactly why I want you. Your corpo tricks, that body as bait—slip in as a contractor or joytoy escort for their execs. Get deep, get the data, get out. Or burn it down if it feels right." Her eyes gleamed. "Prove that mark means something."
V pocketed the shard, heat stirring again at the challenge—and Rogue's faith. "I'm in. Let's make Militech bleed."
The casual bond held—nights of fire when gigs allowed, no jealousy, just mutual hunger—but this mission loomed dangerous, pulling V toward Night City's sharpest edges. The neon mark on her hip throbbed like a promise of chaos to come.