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Rogue has never been perfect, ever. She's always been an outcast and a runaway, even before she became a mutant. Without point or purpose, she truly lives up to her name.
Jean, on the other hand, has always been the poster-child for perfection, right down to her freckles. Smart, beautiful, funny, in control of her gifts and popular, Jean is perfect to everyone.
And that's why their arrangement is so perfect; a clash of rough and ready with immaculate manipulation. They both can shed their lives and ruin their reputations, restoring some sort of normalcy to their worlds.
Rogue gets order and control, some of that flawless life smeared onto her with every clumsy caress. And Jean escapes the pressure of being perfect, revelling in the thought of all those shocked faces at how her life has fallen apart into the wicked hands of the Rogue.
Jean loves the fact her existence is something to be aspired to, so much so that Rogue will come practically begging for her hands, fingers, arms and lips; anything the redhead is willing to surrender. When she touches it's all calculated like the painting of a masterpiece and not a single stroke is out of place. Jean practically drinks in the power rush with every caress.
And Rogue is always looking out for that sly glance from her tutor, letting her know that her perfect paramour is cracking once more under all their stares and gasps of wonder. She wants out and to be ripped and torn, brought to the very edge of life and pain to strip some of that purity. And the knowledge of Jean's downfall makes a horrid grin creep across the Rogue's pretty features, because she loves knowing that perfection isn't real and it's hers to devastate.
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