Title: On Marie and Milkshakes
Author: Diebin
Email: diebin@hotmail.com
Fandom: X-Men (movie)
Summary: Nancy and Misty said to me, "Hey, didn't you used to write smut all the time? You should write smut now!" And I had the beginning of this little story, and it was going, "Diebin, write me . . write me . . ." So damn. I did. 25 pages worth of romantic smut with angst so minimal I have to wonder if I'm sick or something.
Setting: Rogue is twenty one or so.
Pairing: Hmm, can I get a Logan/Rogue? I thought I could.
Disclaimer: I'm sure Brian and Stan and Marvel and Fox would be embarrassed to claim this as their own. So umm . . does that make it mine? Probably not. Darn.
Archive: You tell, I give
Thanks and Blame: The usual suspects, of course. MistyMonkey and Nanciwan made me start it. Shana and Caeryn just rock as usual. Donna is the newest guinea pig in my fic laboratory, and Molly, as always, rocks my little world. Aya, I love you. And of course, Azzura, you rock baby.
Warning: There may be typos. I'm cross-eyed from writing this, and no one is around to beta, and I'm going to post it before I faint from overdose of nekkid Logan thoughts.

Two years of being friends. Two years having convinced myself day in and day out that all we were--all we could ever be was friends. Two years of taking her out on Friday evenings, when her homework was put away and her other friends were all busy going out dancing in their skin-revealing outfits and rubbing up against each other.

Two years of everything being comfortable, and I made a mistake that so many seventeen year old geeks boys before me have made--the embarrassing, horrific experience that all men in the middle of puberty fear.

Only problem is--I'm a hell of a long way away from being seventeen. And--and it was more than just embarrassing with her. It messed things up. A lot.

It almost always happens the same way. I'd taken to paying for her milkshakes recently, because I was doing a lot worse at convincing myself we were just friends, and when I did stupid little teenage boy things like pay for her milkshake or let her wear my jacket or even hold open the door--she'd get this funny little smile and a light in her eyes and even though I knew it was because someone was treating her like a girl--I liked to pretend it was because there was something a little more between us.

So like so many innocent pre-pubescent boys, I reached for my wallet to pull out a twenty--and the twenty wasn't the only thing that went spilling out onto the table.

God knows why I still had them. It's not like I've used them since I met her--since a little before I met her, to be truthful. It was mostly habit that kept them in there--when I was running from bar to bar, beating the shit out of people, I liked to have them around in case . . . well, just in case. Because that's the kind of man I am.

Or at least was.

It wouldn't have been so bad if things hadn't been getting a little more . .. serious . . . lately. But I guess she was taking all this door holding coat wearing nonsense as seriously as I was--and the betrayed look that crossed her face when she picked up that little foil packet was about the most painful thing I'd ever seen.

I dropped condoms on the table. And she sure as hell knew I wasn't saving them for her.

Awww, shit.


She quirked a little smile and picked up my wallet and shoved them back in and folded it up calmly as can be and just folded her hands together.

And refused to meet my eyes the rest of the night.

And refused to wear my jacket when we were walking home and she started shivering.

And opened her own door before I could.

And handed me fiver dollars for the milkshake before she said a hasty goodnight and pretty much slammed the door in my face.

Awww, shit.

And in the way of all things that aren't in the movies--the minute I realized I couldn't have her anymore, I wanted her.

It's not like I really could have had her before--but I'd been doing a lot of thinking in spite of my self, and it's not like a man with some creativity and a little patience couldn't at least have something with her. And it may be immodest--but I had that girl in the palm of my hand. If I had so much as opened my door when she was next to me--I could have had her in my bed without blinking.

Okay, maybe I am being immodest. But I've been around a while--and I know what all that growling animal intense prowling does to women. Why the hell else does anyone think I've kept it up since I regained my humanity.

So now I realize--there's a woman I want. Maybe I realized I wanted her because I couldn't have her. For a whole week I had peace of mind, because I'd convinced myself this sudden need to have her was based entirely on my wounded pride that I couldn't.

Peace of mind was nice--but I'm not as good at lying to myself as I want to be. She was twenty-one years old, gorgeous, untouched, and half in love with me.

And she was the only person who had ever really seen inside me--and she hadn't run away. Hell, I ran away. But she didn't. Marie is steadfast and true and sweet and loving and hot as hell, and is currently using her formidable powers of intelligence to avoid me completely.

And I, the damn fool I am, have fallen in something with her.

Maybe it is love. I'd prefer not to think so, since apparently I've blown my chances with her. But if it is love--you'd think with love and lust and the fact that I'm a growling-prowling-woman magnet . . . I could make things right.

I just need to get in the same room as her so I can do some of my growling and prowling.

I considered and quickly discarded the workout room. First of all, there are always a couple of other people around when she does her workouts--and lately she's taken to doing her exercises at the same time as the youngest female students--and having a bunch of fifteen year olds fawning over me and trying to touch me just is not the right atmosphere for wooing the woman of my sordid dreams.

Not to mention the fact that since she does do her workouts at the same time as other people, she shows up in this strange leotard-tights combo that just looks like she slapped some black paint on her body in one nice thin coat--and I'm a fucking man. Watching her bounce around in painted on skin is about as mind-numbing as anything else I've ever seen. I don't think I can even speak coherently watching that. Growl--yeah. But no prowling, I'd fall on my fucking face.

So the workout room was out. Which didn't leave too many options. She spent a lot of time in the library working on her distance learning classes through the local university, but it didn't seem right to go barging in on her studies. Plus, I think the quickest way to get my little relationship I was shooting for un-sanctioned by the Professor would be by distracting her from her schoolwork.

Or starting some kind of R-rated scenario on one of the library tables. And trust me, I've got a few planned out already.

Dining halls--not a chance. Ever since The Incident, she sandwiched herself in between Bobby and Jubilee at every meal, much to both of their delight. Bobby loves checking Marie out--I don't think there's anything the pathetic little squirt likes more.

Jubilee just seems to like checking me out whenever I prowl by, hoping Marie will notice. Jubilee always gives me a grin and a wink, and stares at my ass a lot. Marie asks someone to pass the carrots and pretends I'm not there.

All that seems to be left is ambushing her in a hallway--which I'm not big on but not crossing off my list, or ambushing her in her bedroom. That'd probably get me kicked out on my ass--Scott is already giving me weird looks since Marie got her own room and I started prowling by a whole lot.

I was getting desperate. So I tried ambushing her in the hallway.

She got away.

I tried ambushing her in her room, making sure Scott was otherwise distracted.

She blushed, gave me this really hungry and really forlorn look which turned my entire body to lead and made me really, really wish she was the kind of girl you could grab and hoist up against the wall--

And then she shut the door on my face.

I stood out in the hallway, really fucking horny and totally addicted to the sight of her for about ten minutes.

Then I went back to my room to plan my strategy.

No one was going to keep me from milkshakes with my girl.

I was just about getting impatient enough to try a bedroom ambush again when Marie made the mistake that proved to be her doom.

Well, not exactly her doom--but it certainly was the death of her resistance.

I was sitting outside tinkering with the old beat up motorcycle Scott had given me when I felt her go by.

She was behind me, quite obviously trying to move silently, and smelled of nervous determination.

And lust. If it had just been nervousness--I wasn't going to force myself on the girl. But it was clear she still wanted me, and I'd just fucked everything up by acting like an idiot. So I didn't turn around, I just kept tinkering, and I listened and followed where she was headed very very carefully.

The minute she was out of sight, I pulled on the leather gloves I'd been keeping around for just this opportunity, and followed her off into the woods.

The woods. Thank god, this was my territory. Any animal does his best prowling and stalking in the woods--there's just something about it that makes a man feel a little wild.

And I could smell her ahead, which wasn't helping. She used this stuff that wasn't really perfume--this body spray from one of those ditzy girl stores, but it gave her this clean, young smell that mingled with the Marie-Smell and the whole thing was making me feel more than a little wild.

She stopped and pulled a blanket and a book out of her backpack, and settled down to the ground to read.

So this was how she'd been avoiding me.

That made me stop for a minute. The girl was going to such incredible lengths to stay away from me--maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe she'd thought the condoms were for her somehow, and she was offended. Maybe she didn't like me at all. Maybe she thought I was a sick old lecher and she was avoiding me now so I'd get the hint and go away.

But that didn't seem right. It didn't seem like my Marie. The one who stared up at me with the wide loving eyes and stood as close to me as she could, or who looked shocked and so pleased when I put an arm over her shoulders or around her waist . . .

It was when she started crying that I actually stopped thinking about me and focused on her again.

She had the book clutched in a trembling hand, and she was staring at the pages so determinedly--but tears were rolling down her face and her shoulders shook.

I was in the clearing and crouching down in front of her before I remember even making the decision to move. "Marie, what's wrong?"

Whoops. Forgot that she didn't know I was here. She let out a surprised squeak which put a pause in the tears, and stared up at me.

Her face was naked of defenses, and I read the truth there. Read the truth and damn did I feel good about myself, because I knew then that I did still have her in the palm of my hand, that she did love me and that I could have her, and all I had to do was convince her that the Incident was just that . . . a big bloody mistake, and not some comment on how I wasn't getting any.


"Yeah?" Oh, that beautiful twangy drawl that four years living in yank country hasn't cleared up.

"Did you know that I haven't had any use for a condom in four years?" Now that was not what I was planning on saying. Where the hell did all my romantic mumblings go?

I see her eyes flicker away as she does the math in her head, her eyes flying back to mine. "Since Laughlin City, huh?" Maybe it was the right thing to say . . . I think she got the picture real quick.

"Since Laughlin City, kid." And I reach out to touch part of her, something innocent, though nothing seems too innocent right now. My hand lands on her knee, and I squeeze it lightly. "I found something there--" I can't make myself go on, because it's getting too damn mushy and I am not a mushy person.

I just hope Marie can understand and deal with it.

She understands. Her eyes light up and she gives this wide smile and lays a gloved hand on the side of my face. "Poor Logan, tryin' to be a romantic." Her hand slips away, and she shifts her eyes to the side. "It wasn't just that, Logan. It was--well, I saw those things sitting there--and I kinda knew you hadn't been using them . . . and I felt kinda guilty."

"Guilty?" Marie felt guilty that I wasn't having sex? Okay . . . this conversation was taking a turn for the surreal.

"Well, yeah." She shifts awkwardly, and still won't look at me. "I was thinking maybe you wanted to be, since you were . . . you know, carrying them around . . . and that I was getting in the way or something, since I guess the girls around here kinda, well--" She looks back at me and her eyes are wide and really nervous. "--I guess most of them kind of think that we're . . . well . . that you and me, we're--"

I already know what all the girls--what everyone--thinks Marie and I are. But watching her stumble over the words is pretty damn adorable.

"Together?" I rumble, and get the pleasure of watching her jump.

"Yeah." Oh she's beautiful with her cheeks flushed all red like that. "So I thought I should back off, and let you have, you know, let you--"

Time to put an end to this line of conversation. I had been squatting in front of her, so it's not too hard to rearrange things to my liking. Leaning forwards, I plant my hands on either side of her and push her back until she's lying on the ground, staring up at me with wide, wide eyes. "The girls are right, Marie."

"The girls are--" She seems to be having a little trouble breathing, and I can't help but feel smug about that.

"As far as I'm concerned, we are together, and I'm not planning on using those things unless I can figure out a way to make them useful with us."

Whoops. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. If my hearing is correct, Marie just stopped breathing.

Too bad giving her mouth to mouth wouldn't help things much.

"Logan--" Oh, it isn't fair the way my entire body gets tense and trembling at the way my name sounds, falling from her breathless lips.

"Let me--" I swallow a growl, not wanting to scare her, and fight to get my eyes open, staring at her. "Let me touch you?"

Her eyes are wide. "Logan, you can't--"

"Just trust me," I whisper, sliding a hand down to caress the side of her breast through her shirt. "Just trust me and tell me--tell me if you want me to--"

"Don't stop." It's wrenched from her lungs as a moan as she shifts slightly into my touch.

I can't help but smile. So much easier than I thought, I won.

I'm wearing my gloves, so I slide a few fingers under the hem of her shirt, wanting to see her face when I touch skin--her skin--but my fingers encounter something else. Something that isn't quite skin, and I pull back and look confused.

She blushes, reaching down to pull up her shirt and reveal a tight nylon body stocking. "I--when I'm nervous or upset about something, I wear it--because I'm distracted and it's safer this way, to make sure I don't--I don't hurt someone on accident--"

She's embarrassed, but I could not be more pleased. I lift one hand to my mouth, my eyes, never leaving hers, and pull the glove off with my teeth.

It's almost like touching skin. So close it might as well be, and I'm surprised that something so thin could protect me from her, but it can--and I'm insanely grateful suddenly as my fingers fumble at the buttons of her shirt.

Her chest heaves as she feels my fingers skate over her body, and I determine that I won't do anymore right now than simply touch a little, because despite the fact that I've known her for four years and loved her nearly that long, it's like a first date for her. Worse than that--because it's like a first date when she's never had a date before, and if I go rushing her along to orgasm, it'll be just . . . cheap.

Like I ever cared before. But Marie makes me care.

So I touch her a little more, and button her shirt back up, and haul her too her feet.

"We going out for milkshakes tomorrow?" I ask, and for a minute she looks confused, but then her eyes brighten up.

"Yeah, we are."

We drive to get the milkshakes now. We drive, because I'm giving Marie an experience she never got to have. Not that she missed out on all that much, but I caught her looking wistful once when Kitty was talking about it, and I almost walked over there and gave Ms. Pryde a good talking to about making Marie listen to things she can't do--

But then I realized she could do them with me, so I'd let her.

Though the fact that I, the Wolverine, have been reduced to strange, no-skin-touch necking in a car on Friday nights will never, ever cease to amuse me.

The things I do for that girl.

So we'd been going out on Fridays, and sometimes on other nights too, and every once in a while she'd come into my room and do her homework, claming she couldn't think in her own room with Jubilee always making so much noise or chewing gum so loudly or playing her bad music or talking on her cell phone to all of the guys she knew--but we both knew that Marie came to do her homework in my room because it was my room, and I was in it.

And I'd lay there and toss stuff at her until she turned around and tried to glare at me but she could never stay angry for long--since we both knew she wasn't in my room to do homework.

There was a lot of stuff we could have done that wasn't homework--but I wouldn't really let her for the most part. Marie doesn't always know herself as well as I know her, and I could see how much all the touching was freaking her out. She spent a few long years while I was gone not having anyone really touch her at all, and the last thing I wanted to do was screw her head up anymore.

So we'd lay there and touch, but soft little touches that didn't mean much but were special because they meant we were together. And sometimes we'd talk, though it was usually her doing most of the talking because much as I try, I can't shake the fact that I'm not really much of a conversationalist.

Now don't get me wrong, there have been a few times where things have strayed a little too far, because as much as the two of us act like a couple of teenagers, we're both adults, and neither of us is exactly innocent. Marie's had two guys and one rather perverted woman knocking around in her head, so I don't think there's much I could do that would surprise her . . .

But there's a difference between knowing something and experiencing it. So I spend a lot of time bolting from my bed and slamming the door and taking really fucking cold showers, because . . .

Well fuck, I don't know why. I've got this feeling that I'm going to know when it's the right time to let my little temptress push me over the edge.

And when it is . . . god help anyone who's trying to sleep within a mile radius.

I was in the shower when Marie learned how to control her powers.

No, there was no flash of lightening. No, I didn't feel it through some mystical bond. The winds didn't change, and I didn't feel my destiny rushing towards me.

What I felt was really damn embarrassed when the girl flung back the curtain on my shower in her excitement to tell me.

I think she was a little disappointed that I didn't pull her in and just hoist her up against the shower wall and do the nasty right there, but I have to admit I was just too fucking surprised to do anything about it.

She gave me a very interesting once over and then let the curtain fall back into place, informing me that she'd be waiting in my room.

I spun the shower controls to fucking-Siberia and stood under it under the water until I was convinced that my body was way too cold to be thinking about lots of suddenly non-lethal skin.

And all the things I could be doing to that suddenly non-lethal skin.

Of course, just the thought of the suddenly non-lethal skin had me standing under the shower for another ten minutes, and by the time I managed to get myself to the point where I was relatively confident in my ability to control myself, I was blue lipped and shivering.

She was waiting on my bed, her head propped up on one hand and all her beautiful hair falling all over the place. She gave the towel around my waist a long look and dragged her eyes up my body in a way that might as well have been touching me.

I kind of think she was still a little shocked over her discovery, because, well . . . she didn't seem very . . . interested.

Or maybe that's just my pride talking. Just because she wasn't flushed and panting at the sight of me in all my mostly naked glory . . .

Shit. I was supposed to be not thinking of something. Well, I had that taken care of because I certainly wasn't thinking.

Not with my brain in any case.

"So--" I was sidling over to find some pants while I tried to distract that intense gaze from me. "Why don't you, umm, tell me what happened."

Marie smiled and rolled over to her back, releasing me from that hypnotic stare and giving me a chance to regain the shreds of my composure as I dove into my pants.

"Well, the Professor thought of something he hadn't thought of before," she drawled, raising one hand to her hair and gathering a long strand around her finger. "It was so simple, Logan. So stupidly simple, and we'd spent so many years never thinking of it . . ."

I tugged my gray sweatshirt over my head and gathered all of my courage before walking the few steps to sit next to her on the bed. "What was it?"

"Something confusing about how my gift is always plugged in while most mutants usually have theirs unplugged, and I just had to figure out where the switch is. It was strange, really . . . we thought it was about concentration or something, but it was just some little switch . . ."

Her voice trailed off as her face suddenly flushed and she sat up, staring at me. "You were naked."

About the smartest thing I could think of to do was blink. "Umm . . . any time in particular you're talking about there Marie, or was that just an in general statement . . ."

She just about moaned. "Just now--I walked in on you in the shower and I didn't even think to get a good look at--"

I really did not want to hear what she was going to say. Really. Not even the tiniest bit curious.

Well, maybe a little--

But not enough so that I changed my mind about my course of action. Leaning over, I stopped everything she had to say by kissing her, hoping like hell that she really had unplugged that gift of hers.

At first I thought she hadn't, but then I realized somewhere in the back of my head that this must be what it felt like to kiss someone you really, truly loved. I felt like she was pouring into me and I was pouring into her and it was fire . . . and before I knew what was happening I had her on her back in the bed and I was straddling her with my hands buried in her hair, kissing her like it was the last thing I was ever going to do.

For the record, I'd be really curious to know where she got so good at kissing. She knew just how to tilt her head and when to let her lips slide open under mine, and it was so damn good that I was almost drowning in it. And when her tongue slid up wet and hot against mine . . . I was suddenly terrified that she was on the verge of shattering any control I had.

I tore my mouth away from her and propped my body up on my arms, trying not to pant as I stared down into her eyes. "Marie--" I was a little worried about just how needy I sounded. Push me much further and I'd be begging her for sex.

She didn't look like she was in much better condition, with her eyes wide and drowsy and her head moving languidly against the pillow and her whole body just . . . vibrating with this sexual tension.


Well no, not that. That's what I was trying to avoid, and was doing a damn poor job at. And I had to laugh at myself, because I was behaving like some stupid eighteen year old on prom night.

I nearly swore when I felt Marie's hands slide up around my waist and down, because feeling her touching me when I knew that she could slide her bare fingers up under my shirt . . .

. . . or heaven help me down under my pants . . .

But she didn't. Her hand slid into my pocket, and before I could stop her she had my wallet and she flipped it open and those damn condoms that had started this whole thing fell out on to her chest.

They just sat there and she looked at me and I looked at her, and I could see all the pleading in her eyes and I wanted so badly to answer it.

"Marie--" My voice sounded so hoarse. "I don't want it to be like this."

She looked hurt, damn it, and that wasn't what I was planning on doing. "Like what?" she whispered.

"Like this," I replied, sitting up a little and gesturing around us. "Damn it Marie, you haven't been touched in years . . ."

"I know." And her voice sounded so wistful. "I just wanted to be--"

I couldn't help it, she looked so lost that I had to lean back down to kiss her, and it was only through supreme will power that I manage to avert my mouth at the last second to land on her cheek. "I'll do anything you want," I whispered, and I was pretty damn horrified at how whipped I sound. "Just--let that wait a little, even if it's just a few days . . ."

She looked at me like I was crazy, since it was the untouched virgin begging for sex and the roughened bar brawler turning her down . . . and for just a few moments I tried to decide if I was crazy.

Beautiful woman I love dearly underneath me, clutching a condom and begging me to put it to use . . . and I'm telling her to take a cold shower.

Yeah. I'm fucked up.

But I care about her, and I just . . . I want it to be right. Romantic and pussy as it sounds, I do.

So I wrapped my arms around her and rolled onto my back so that she was sprawled on top of me with all that hair falling down and making a living curtain around our faces. "You know what I want to do, Marie," I whispered, and I clutched her to my chest tightly as she lifted her head a little, her eyes meeting mine.

"What?" she breathed, the feathery puffs of air teasing at my lips.

"I want to take my time and make sure I've touched all of you."

Score one for me, I think she just about stopped breathing.

And then she kissed me, and even though we didn't do anything for the rest of the night but kiss, I can't remember any woman in the past twenty or so years who has made me feel half as alive in the middle of sex as Marie does just by nipping at my lips.

Frankly . . . I was amazed we made it through the night. But we did . . . and that's when Marie started stalking me.

News travels fast around our school. Before I'd even managed to get out of bed the next morning, Jubilee had already whisked Marie away for a congratulatory shopping spree, and I was almost afraid at what I was going to have to survive when the two of them got home.

I've seen some of the stuff Jubilee finds appropriate. Porn stars would blush.

I had the feeling that was I just going to get real familiar with my cold shower again.

Scott smirked at me. Jean winked at me. Ororo gave my arm a squeeze and smiled her most beautiful smile at me.

Xavier just looked smug.

And Bobby and Remy looked like they were gonna play paper-rock-scissors for who got the honor of skinning me alive.

Under the circumstances, I didn't see any reason to disabuse pretty much the entire school of whatever twisted notion they had in their heads about what Marie and I had been up to the night before.

After it all, it was none of their god damned business.

By the time Marie made it home, I was comfortably enthroned in the television room, watching the hockey game that Scott had been good enough to record for me last night when I hadn't snowed up to watch it with him. That was pretty much the only thing Scott and I could do together without it turning into a pissing match--turns out One Eye has good taste in teams, and so our male bonding ritual consists mainly of watching grown men beat the shit out of each other with large sticks.

Better than the two of us going at it, I guess.

I was paying pretty close attention to the screen even after I caught Marie's scent coming into the room--and even after I felt her behind me I kept my eyes glued to the screen, because when there's thirty seconds left in overtime and your team's got a powerplay, you just don't turn around.

So it was about thirty seconds later that my jaw hit my chest. And let me tell you, it wasn't because my goalie missed his block.

She was . . . well, aside from being stunning, she was pretty much the popular definition of scantily clad.

There was so much skin. I'd never really noticed how long her legs were, but wearing little jean cut off shorts that were cut off right about at the fucking pockets . . . I don't think her legs ended.

She had sandals on. It was the strangest thing--I'd never seen her feet before. But she was wearing sandals and had this cute little polish on her toenails and even a little silver ring around one of her toes.

I wonder if there are awards for accessorizing. I think someone should nominate Jubilee for one of them, because that girl leaves less than nothing to chance.

I slid my eyes back up over those miles and miles of legs she had, and swallowed my tongue when I got to the shirt she was wearing. Well, I don't know if I'd dignify it by calling it a shirt. It was a glorified bra.

On a good day.

She had more accessories, a necklace swooping down to dive into that enticing cleavage, a few bracelets jangling on one wrist and a pair of earrings that brushed her neck as she tilted her head to the side.

By the time I finally got my meandering gaze to her face, she was blushing so red I was almost afraid she'd start crying.

"Jubilee made me buy it all," she almost whimpered. "I didn't pick any of it out!"

"Jubilee obviously is trying to severely injure me," I replied, holding out an arm to her and trying to hide my smile behind a gruff scowl. "You look .. . good, Marie. Just don't let me catch you trying to wear that outfit out in public."

"Too late." She quirked a smile. "You should have seen the looks I was getting at the mall. I thought security was going to pick me up for indecent exposure." Her blush was fading as she slid onto the couch a few inches away from me.

I considered the notion that she didn't know what she was doing to me. But the way she tilted her shoulders away from me and propped her legs up on the table and leaned over so that if I tried to look at her, all I got was an eyeful of cleavage . . .

That girl knew exactly what she was doing to me, damn it. The twinkle in her eyes as she peeked up at me and gave me her patented little Marie smile said it all.

"Marie . . ." It was supposed to be a warning growl. What I was warning her to do, I wasn't sure . . . probably get the hell out of the room before I did something I'd regret.

She didn't budge. She tilted her head back so that it landed on my shoulder and her hair swung back to brush against my arm. "Logaaaan . . ." She was making fun of me, because that was as close to a growl as I've ever heard come out of her mouth and she stared at me with these sparkling eyes and her innocent little grin.

So I leaned over and decided to remind her who the experienced one was in this game she was intent on playing. Gave her a nice through kissing which only ended when her hand flew out to grasp at something and it landed on my upper thigh.

That got my attention real fast, having her not-gloved fingers digging into my leg a few inches away from body parts that were taking far too much interest in this whole thing.

As I saw it, I had two options. One involved tearing up lots of clothing and making Marie scream loud enough to bring the whole school running.

The other one involved me trying to keep my balance on my shaking knees long enough to get someplace where I could take care of some things. And I didn't think a cold shower was going to do it for me this time.

"We'll talk about this later," I growled at her, and I ran.

Even if you're as good at running as I am--don't try it after the girl of your dreams has been feeling you up. It can be . . . uncomfortable.

Shit I was whipped.

The next day, Scott made a point of making it clear to me just how amusing he was finding the current run of things. And if it hadn't been for the fact that Jean and Storm were on the other side of the room, I would have done something pretty nasty when he started cracking jokes about how hunted I looked.

Then Marie entered the room, and even though she was back to her normal clothing, she wasn't wearing gloves, and at just the thought of Marie without gloves--which of course lead to thoughts of Marie without other stuff--oh god my body betrayed me.

It had been doing that a lot lately.

Thing was--after only two days of acting like a pansy, I was getting really tired of it. I didn't want to keep running every time she walked into a room, because I figured it had to be hurting her a little. Not to mention the fact that my instincts were getting ready to throttle me, because that little girl was everything I wanted and needed and I had to have her.

So I stalked across the room and wrapped my hand around her wrist and gave Jean and Ororo a smile and pulled her right out of the room and down the hallway until we got to one of the little empty offices right before the stairs.

Offices had locks on them. I recalled that vaguely through my haze of arousal. Locks were good.

I swung her through the door and turned around to lock it behind us, and when I turned back she had her arms crossed over her chest and was smiling.

"Are we gonna quit playing games?" she whispered softly.

"Oh yeah." I think it came out as a growl, but I didn't care. She reached for me the same time I reached for her, but instead of letting her press me up into the door I wrapped my hands around her waist and hoisted her up onto the desk by the window.

My hips fit so perfectly against her as she slid her hands around my back and pulled me close, one leg wrapping around mine. One hand floated up to my face, and she let it brush my cheek as she had so many times when she'd worn gloves, only this time it was soft skin against the stubble on my jaw, and the feeling was ungodly intense.

I twisted my head without breaking my gaze and let my lips touch the tips of her fingers, smiling as she sucked in a shallow breath when I caught the tip of one between my teeth. I loved the sounds she made, the way her eyelids drooped as the leg wrapped around my thigh tightened and pulled my hips into hers.

I couldn't help it anymore. I tangled my hands into her hair and pulled her face so that my lips were almost touching hers. "Say it," I whispered.

"I want you." Her voice was nearly a whimper.

It felt good to hear it, but it wasn't what I was waiting for. "Not that, Marie. Say something else."

Her eyes widened as her lips curled into a slow, shy smile. "I love you, Logan."


Nothing had ever felt that good.

I pressed my lips against the corner of her mouth, surprised at how hard my chest was heaving. And then her mouth fell open, and her lip brushed against mine as she exhaled shakily.

"I love you too," I groaned, and then I shifted my lips just a few millimeters and fell into the fire.

It was the most insane thing I'd ever experienced in my life. Every gasp and moan that fell from her lips shot straight through my body to settle in the pit of my stomach. The soft feel of her lips, the heat of her mouth and the way she grew bolder and bolder with every sound I made. It was insane, and it was good, and it was so distracting that my shirt was off and hers was hanging loosely from her shoulders before I even realized we were doing anything other than kissing.

"Bedroom," I managed to choke out, because I didn't want to take her on a desk after I'd tried so hard to make it slow and romantic and right.

She didn't say anything, she just slid from the desk and scrambled to button her shirt back up, all the while staring at me with these wide, hungry eyes.

I didn't even bother to put my shirt back on. She'd roused my instincts, my crazy animal instincts, and I wasn't going to let anything stand between us any more. I just wanted her.

I don't know if Xavier saw it coming and cleared the hallways, or if we were just lucky, but no one stopped us on our way from the office to my room. It's probably a good thing, Marie was in front of me, her hips swaying and her hair swinging back and forth and her shirt a little wrinkled from where I'd bunched it up in my fists--and I could smell myself on her, which wasn't exactly making me rational. I have a feeling I would have hurt anyone who'd gotten in my way.

She paused outside of my door, turning around and pressing her back against it and staring up at me with her wide eyes again, a tiny smile on her lips. "No games," she declared, her hand moving over to rest on the doorknob.

I didn't feel the need to answer her.

Well, not with words anyways.

I pressed into her, my body stretching out along hers and I could feel how hard she was under her softness, feel the muscles that had come from the past years of exercise and all the energy and time that went into being a super hero in training. It was funny that she could be strong and still soft, but it was a nice contrast to my body with all its hard lines and hard muscles and hard . . . other things.

So my hand covered hers on the doorknob and we turned it together, with our eyes locked, and I walked her backwards into my room like a wolf stalking prey.

I didn't kiss her, not yet--because this time I wanted to remember taking her shirt off, remember the look on her face when I touched her. And I knew--I knew if I kissed her again, that addictive connection would just wipe everything out and we'd too far gone to experience it like we should.

After all, it was my first time making love to someone. I'd done an awful lot of fucking--but this was a different ballgame, and I was planning on being careful.

"Would you stop thinking so loud," Marie finally protested, her hands falling to her hips as she gave me a playful glare. "No wonder you couldn't find anyone else to use those condoms with, if you just sit around pondering life when you should be--"

I kind of liked the way her voice cut off completely when I wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her to me and up a little, her legs falling to either side of my thigh in a really satisfactory manner.

"And what would you like me to do instead," I growled, just because I could and because I'd seen the affect of growls on her before.

I wasn't disappointed. Her face got almost feral, and she twined her arms around my neck and damn it, she ground herself against my leg like we were on some seedy dance floor and her eyes got really dark as she whispered, "I thought you were the experienced one."

That did it. With something that would have been a roar if I could have gotten my lungs to work properly, I snatched her hard enough against me so that her feet were dangling off the ground and backed her up to the bed, dropping her on the edge and sinking to my knees on the floor between her legs.

"What are you . . . aaahhh--" Oh I loved the way she moaned. Her shirt was bunched up between my fingers, and I pushed it slowly up as I trailed my mouth up her stomach. I felt her fingers slide through my hair, her hands cupping my skull and I looked up to see her eyes closed, her head titled slightly to the side.

She was beautiful. She was beautiful and she was mine and she started breathing faster as I let my fingers fumble with the buttons on her shirt, parting it and sliding it off of her shoulders and down her arms. She almost trembled but didn't, freeing her arms easily and sliding her hands over mine, fingers intertwining as she let her eyes drift open, her head still resting on her shoulder.

And the way her lips parted and she moaned when I ran my tongue down the line of her bra was enough so that I looked up just in time to meet her lips as she kissed me.

I couldn't decide what to do with my hands. The slid up to hold her head to mine, curling in her hair, but then I couldn't just leave them there, because the way she was making me feel, the way her lips and tongue were making me ache--I had to touch her.

So I did. Touched her until her mouth was frantic and she was making low noises and even though I tried to fumble at the buttons on her jeans, my motor skills were shot to hell as she ran her tongue along the inside of my mouth in a way that was far too experienced for a girl who'd started kissing two days ago.

I managed to get her jeans off of her without breaking my mouth away from hers, but as my hands trailed past her ankles and threw the denim aside, I broke away to kiss her some other places, which I figured was way past due.

I loved kissing the side of her neck, feeling her hair falling against my face and her body shifting under my hands as I locked fingers around her waist. One little tug and she slid off the bed and was straddling my lap, her hair spread out on the mattress as she arched her head back and let out a low moan.

I don't think I've ever been happier with my life then I was when I leaned back to look at her, seeing her stretched out before me, lifting her head slightly from the bed to give me a look drunk with need.

And then it got happier. It got better. I got so much better I couldn't even deal with it because Marie pushed herself up so she her hips were snug against mine and her barely covered breasts were pressing into my chest and she started touching me.

It was good. It was better than good, it was fucking unbelievable. And if it hadn't been so fucking unbelievable, I might have caught on to what was going on sooner. But her hands were on me, on my chest, tracing the lines of muscles with her fingernails as she rocked ever so softly against me in this rhythm that just . . .

Fuck. I was five seconds from gone. All I could do was cling to her hips and try to keep myself from coming undone.

Shit, the girl knew exactly where to touch me.

But when her mouth slid up to attach itself to that exact spot just above my shoulder where it's as sensitive and good as hell--that's when I realized something.

The girl knew exactly where to touch me.

Fuck. "Marie--" I managed to get my hands up to her shoulders and push her back a little. "You little liar!"

I knew I was right when she just smiled, her eyes dark and full of intention. "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all.

"You told me--you said that--that you--" God I was stuttering. "You said you didn't pay--that you forgot--"

She smiled, a slow, sensual smile. "What did you want me to tell you, Logan? That I was replaying your ever sexual fantasy in my head and couldn't turn them off to save my life?" She leaned forward and wrapped one hand around my neck, pulling my ear to her mouth. "You're cute when you blush."

And she bit my ear.

I wrapped my hands around her waist and vaulted her up onto the bed, only pausing to kick my pants off before following her, stretching out naked next to her and loving the way all that skin rubbed against all of mine. Then she was under me and laughing as I kissed my way down her neck, and her laughing turned to muffled gasps as I managed to get my hand underneath her to deal with the little clasps on her bra.

Her body writhed in the most sensual way, pressing back into the bed in some places and arching up towards me as I slid my hands down and traced the line of her cotton underwear, and in my head I was trying to decide how fast I could go without hurting her, because this was the first time I'd ever slept with a virgin, which she most assuredly was.

She stilled as my hand ran along the band again, and she wrapped one hand in my hair and tugged my face up so she could meet my eyes. "I'm not going to break," she whispered. "I'm just--" She swallowed, and I watched the blush rise in her face.

"What, Marie?" She shook her head, but I wasn't having any of that. I didn't want anything coming back to haunt me this time. Sliding back up, I twined her hair in my hands and made her look at me. "What?"

"I'm not--" She swallowed, and closed her eyes, and the words came out so faintly. "I'm just nervous that--that you won't . . ." Her eyes opened up again and they were too clear and she had this little mocking smile on her lips. "You'd be amazed how much your self esteem suffers when no one will touch you," she finally said dryly, and she shook her head. "It's nothing, it's just--"

I kissed her. I kissed her hard and deep, and she whimpered into my mouth and I just kept kissing her, and this time when I ran my hands over her breasts and down her body she just twisted into me, her legs falling apart slightly and it was enough so I could feel okay with sliding my hand down to rest between her legs, I could feel like I wasn't pushing her too far.

She broke off the kiss but kept her hand in my hair, pressing my forehead to hers as she pushed her hips up a little into my hand, her eyes closed. And it was all the permission I needed--all the permission I could stand to wait for, because this had been coming for too long and I was just barely clinging to control by the thinnest thread.

A thread that nearly snapped when she clasped my hand and led it to slide underneath the thin cloth, her body trembling as my fingers slid down slowly across her abdomen for the first time, just skin on skin.

We both groaned as my finger slid inside her, and faintly, faintly somewhere I remembered something about how I was supposed to be careful, because it was supposed to hurt her, but all she was doing was bucking into my hand as it caressed in slippery circles, and she was moaning and begging and I could smell pleasure and need and longing rolling off of her, and no pain or fear.

I could feel myself losing it. Plucking at the elastic on her underwear, I managed to growl out a question. "Can I?"

Her eyes drifted back shut and she smiled. "Anytime, Logan."

Blood was pounding in my ears as I slid my fingers underneath the fabric, sliding it down her legs and groaning as the scent of aroused Marie threatened to destroy my sanity. Her legs fell apart as I kneeled between them, running my hands up her thighs and hips as I settled slowly, slowly and carefully onto her, my body stretched out against hers as I rubbed myself into her.

Her fingers locked dug into my shoulder as she looked up and gave me a long look. "Aren't we forgetting something?"

I was forgetting an awful lot at the time, lots of little things like my name and where I was and pretty much anything that didn't involve the body stretched out below me.

She giggled and gave me one hell of a mighty shove, which was about when I remembered that she'd picked up some abnormal strength at some point over the last few years.

I tumbled off the bed and landed on my pants, which was really damn painful because my wallet was digging into my--

My wallet.

I nearly groaned, mostly because I was so pissed at myself and pissed at her for being so intoxicating that I nearly forgot the one thing that Logan never forgot.

Rolling to my knees with a wince, I grabbed my wallet and tossed it to the bed where she flashed me a grin and rolled to her side.

I spent a few long moments appreciating the way she was laying, her legs almost crossed and her body kind of curved about so that she looked like some provocative centerfold--the kind that fueled the dreams of men like me.

Then she had that little foil packet between her teeth, and she tossed the wallet over her shoulder and propped her head up on one hand, the other rising to curl a piece of that hair around one finger.

She looked like fucking temptation personified, and I was pretty damn glad that resisting her wasn't necessary. I don't think I would have succeeded.

So I crawled back into the bed and blinked as she held the packet a little too expertly and tore it open, all the while giving me that same look.

So I did what I had to do. I snatched that blessed condom that had started all of this out of her fingers and rolled it right on--and okay, I was blushing a little because she was watching me so god damn intently, but then I had her on her back again, and things were more or left where we'd left off before she'd brought my small oversight to my attention.

And I should have been suspicious that she seemed to know how to lay and how to position her hips--but I knew that something I'd have to accept about my Marie was that she'd never really be just Marie, because she had all my sick memories and everything that bitch she'd absorbed had ever done too, not to mention any weird stuff Magento had been up to--

But right at that moment, I was just glad that it made things easier, because I wasn't thinking too clearly and I just wanted to do it and not hurt her too much . . .

I was still hesitating, because I knew it was going to hurt her, and I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to control myself enough to make sure it didn't hurt her too much, because I wanted it so badly, so desperately . . .

"Damn it," she muttered suddenly, and her hands slid down to my lower back and she pulled my hips tight against hers with a moan. "Just do it Logan," she half growled.

So I did.

And found out that the one thing I shouldn't have worried about was not being able to control myself, because I should have known by then the affect that Marie being in pain has on me.

Her face scrunched up and she let out a little moan that wasn't at all like the other moans had been, and I froze. "Are you--" I was almost afraid to ask.

Her fist connected with my shoulder. "Stop being stupid," she gasped out. "I just--" I felt her shift a little, and we both moaned. "I just need a few minutes--"

I didn't move. I didn't fucking breath. Hell, if it hadn't felt so damn good . . . god knows what I would have done. But it did, it felt better than anything had in a long time, so I just sat there, my muscles trembling as I tried so hard not to do what everything in my body was screaming at me to do.

She hit me again, this time a little harder. "Relax," she muttered.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Aren't I supposed to be telling you that?" I whispered, leaning down to press my mouth against her cheek.

She turned her face so that her lips were touching mine and she kissed me.

And then she started moving, and the world shattered to pieces around me.

I don't know if she was ready for it. All I know is that I was moving, that I was finally--finally--following that age old instinct and her hips were matching mine perfectly, and when I pulled back to watch her face, the signs of discomfort were slowly fading and she looked . . .

God she looked like she was mine.

I propped myself up on my elbows above her and her hands locked around my biceps and we moved together, not perfect, but so much better than good that it was like coming home to something I'd never knew I missed. The way she knew me--and yes, the way I knew her.

And the way I loved her. I'd never believed them when they told me love made a difference . . . but god.

Just . . . god.

She was trembling before long, and I could tell she wouldn't last very long which was fine with me because from the way I was going, I didn't think I'd be holding out too much longer either. So I leaned down and I kissed her again, and she kissed me back until her mouth slid off of mine and she clutched at me and buried her face in my neck, her body starting to buck against me.

I could smell it, smell her as she cried out and pressed her open mouth to my neck and her body came apart beneath me and around me, and I wanted to howl, because it was so damn good . . .

She was still shaking a little, gasping for breath when she slid her mouth up and bit my ear again, moaning into my ear. Moaning the words that undid me.

Moaning that she loved me.

And it was the most incredible thing I had ever experienced in my life, and the fact that it was Marie whose arms I collapsed into, and it was Marie who nudged me until I rolled over and curled around me, her hand rubbing through my hair gently, and it was Marie who kissed me and whispered that she loved me . . .

It sealed my fate.

I loved her, and I always would.

She wanted to do it again that night, but even I knew that much. I knew she'd be sore enough as it was come morning, and I wasn't planning on rendering her incapable of walking.

Not yet anyways.

I was in a surprisingly good mood the next day, and when I smiled at Scott in the dining room both of his eyebrows shot straight up and he gave me this shocked, 'You didn't' look.

I gave him my smug 'I certainly did' look and stuck a cigar in my mouth and went to see Marie.

She smiled when I came up and Kitty gave me an appraising once over before winking at me and patting Marie on the cheek and sauntering off.

"What was that about?" I growled it and glared a little, because I didn't want Marie getting the idea that she could go telling everyone that I was really a romantic mush. I had a reputation to uphold.

"Nothing," Marie said, glancing up at the sky and over her shoulder and pretty much anywhere but me.

Which meant exactly what I thought it meant. They'd been having girl talk.

I hate girl talk.

"So, it's Friday," I said finally, chewing on my cigar and looking anywhere but her.

"Yes, it is," Marie replied with a grin.

"We going for milkshakes?" Damn I'm a pussy.

"Always." She smiled and stood up on tiptoe and whispered a rather shocking suggestion in my ear that would have made me blush if I were the blushing type.

Hell, it almost made me blush anyways.

She smiled and pecked me on the cheek and walked off, making damn sure to shake those hips of hers the whole way so I had no choice but watch.

Oh well, it gave me something to look forward to, if her little whispered suggestion about 'breaking in' Scott's motorcycle had any substance behind it.

That man was going to kill me.

Like I cared. I had Marie, and I had milkshakes . . .

And apparently I had a motorcycle with Marie on it after drinking milkshakes.

And well damn, that was a pretty good combination.