Title: Losing Touch|
Fandom: X-Men (movie)
Summary: Rogue levels with Remy, then enjoys some time in her lover's arms.
Series: Adaptations #10
Category: Rogue POV, Logan/Rogue romance
Disclaimer: D'you even have to ask anymore? :) Not mine!
I should be strung up for this, but the only thing I can think as I take the elevator down to the lower floors is that I would give anything to be in Logan's arms right now. It's horrible of me, I know, but I can't help it. God, I love him so much. And knowing that he feels the same way.It's a feeling I can't even describe.
I need to wipe this silly stupid grin off my face before I go in and see Remy. It wouldn't be right for him to see me looking so cheerful when he's lying on a bed in the infirmary. Hell, it's not right for me to be so cheerful, not when I'm the reason he's hurt.
His face lights up when I walk in, and that makes me feel even worse. "Hey, Remy."
He motions me over. "Come 'ere, ma chere, and see how I've suffered for you." He grins wickedly, indicating his intravenous line. "You see dis? I have so many needles in me today dat I am feelin' like a voodoo doll."
"Uh-huh." I walk slowly to sit by the bed. He looks a lot better than he did last night, that's for sure. "And why do I suspect that havin' Jean be the one stickin' those needles in you more than made up for the pain?"
The twinkle in his eyes turns into laughter. "Ah, but she is one lovely woman, n'est-ce pas?"
"Lovely," I agree. "And taken, Remy." I say the words teasingly. If I didn't already know how I felt, this would cinch it. Remy can moon over Jean all day long, and it does nothing but amuse me. It's when Logan starts looking that I start having a problem with it.
His chuckle is jovial "Oui, c'est vrai. You speak the truth, petite.She has a man. But dat only means dat I may look and not touch." He reaches out for my gloved hand, clasping it in his. "Sorta like you and dat hairy beast you love so much. If I'm careful not to let him catch me, I can look at you.but I can't touch." He sobers, and the corners of his mouth droop a little. "What is it about him, anyways?"
"What d'you mean?" I don't want to discuss this with Remy - I can't help but feel that it would hurt him to see so clearly how I feel about Logan, a man so different from himself.
His face tells me that he already sees enough. "Come on, fille, don't gimme dat. I just wanna know what I'm up against, non?" The smile is not entirely back into his eyes. "Tell me how you met 'im." His gaze pleads with me to help him understand.
"All right. I met him in a bar in Canada. He was cage fightin', and--"
"Cage fighting?" he asks, shocked.
"Yeah. You know, they put two men in a big wire cage, and they beat the hell outta each other. Only nobody was beatin' the Wolverine." Remy still looks horrified, and I frown a little. "He looked.like he wanted to be anywhere but there, you know? Like he wanted to be anyone but who he was, and I could sympathize with that feelin'. Anyway, we wound up here at the school. It's kind of a long story, but he promised to protect me, and he did."
A smile curves my lips, and I wonder if anyone but me could ever understand what a crazy thing that had been - for Logan to offer himself up as my guardian, my savior. After all, the Professor and the others gave me protection, too, so it doesn't seem like such a big deal unless you really know Logan. For him at that time, caring was not a tender feeling to be enjoyed - it was a weakness that could be exploited. It made him feel like a trapped animal.
But he did it anyway. He placed himself between the world and me, and swore in his soul that I would not hurt. He didn't just face his fear, he kicked it square in the nugs.and all for me. And I guess maybe we both knew then, on that train, that he was offering so much more than safety.
He gave himself to me that night.
"Hellfire, chere.Do you have to look so sweet-faced over him? My ego is shredded now, but sure." Remy shakes his head, clucking his tongue. "It's all clear now, fille. You have loved dat man since you laid your eyes on him, non?"
I don't really know how to respond, so all I say is, "I'm sorry, Remy."
"Non, jamais, Rogue." His hand tightens around mine, and his voice holds no hint of teasing or amusement. "Never be sorry for bein' happy, girl. I'm glad." At my raised eyebrows, he shrugs a little. "I am disappointed, mais oui, but I'll live. I am glad dat you're happy, chere." He stares at me for a moment, then whispers again, "I am glad."
I can't stop the grateful tears that fill my eyes. I don't want to stop them. "Thank you, Remy. For everything."
"Pas de quoi, Rogue." His own eyes are soft and liquid. "If you need anything."
"I know." It's all that needs to be said.
He nods, then grins at me, releasing my hand. "Now go on, go find your cage-fighting man before I change my mind. I could still decide to make life hell for him, you know."
I rise, hesitating for only a moment before pressing a kiss to my gloved fingers, then to his lips. "Don't go breakin' too many hearts around here, Remy."
His grin turns into a leer. "But I do it so well, chere. The guys 'round dis place, they got all the charm of the little men on dat foosball table, so no wonder all the ladies flock to old Remy."
I roll my eyes playfully. "That's it. I'm gettin' outta here before your accent gets thicker, or the shit gets deeper."
His surprised laugh follows me out the door.
Logan is sitting in the dark when I enter his room. He doesn't say anything - he just crosses to me and slides his arms around my waist. At first, his lips are gentle on mine, then more insistent. After long minutes, he pulls away. "Hey there, Marie."
"Hey yourself, Logan." He's gorgeous, and I can't help but smile up at him. Not only is he quite possibly the world's most beautiful man, but he's mine. That fact alone makes my heart beat faster.
"How'd it go with the Remy kid?" he asks, sliding my gloves from my arms. "Is he okay?"
"Remy's just fine," I tell him, and it's the truth. Remy will be okay, physically and emotionally. I am not worried about him. "He said to tell you hello."
Logan smirks at me. "He did not."
I run a naked hand over his arched eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"
His eyes drift closed, and he doesn't answer for a moment. Then he chuckles a little and says, "Because if I were in his shoes, I'd want to kill me right now, not invite me out for a beer." He grabs me and lifts me up off the floor, holding me against his body. "Oh, speaking of knowing things.We're busted."
I yelp softly as his teeth close teasingly on my neck. "What d'you mean, busted?"
"Summers called me on it after you left dinner." He is more interested in nibbling my ear than elaborating.
I sigh. "What'd he say?" I want to know, but I have to admit that it gets pretty hard to think straight when he licks my ear like he's doing now. "How'd he figure it out?"
He slowly walks backward, toward the bed, taking me with him. "Maybe it was the way you were rubbing against me like a cat when you stopped by our table, babe." He turns around and drops me on the bed. He stands there as I bounce, staring down at me and smiling.
"I didn't rub against you!" I protest, indignant. "Honest, I didn't."
He crawls into the bed and braces himself above me. "Oh yes, you did.Trust me, I know. You were all but purring for me, and it drove me insane, Marie." His eyes are passionate, and I try to hide my smile. He sees it anyway and tugs on my hair a little. "Little vixen.You did it on purpose, didn't you?"
"I'm still not sure I believe you, Logan. All I know is that Mr. Summers didn't suspect a thing when I left."
"Okay.It's also possible that he caught me staring at your ass and drooling on myself," he admits, reaching for the hem of my shirt. He changes his mind at the last minute, instead bending down to grip the material between his teeth. He looks up at me and arches an eyebrow, then drags the cloth up a little. I jump when his tongue circles my navel. "Mmm," he breathes, sending shivers of warm air over the now-damp skin of my belly.
"Hmm?" He raises his head questioningly.
"Focus?" I ask, running my thumb along his lower lip. "What did he say?"
He groans and flips over onto his back, settling his body beside mine. "Hell, Marie.I don't want to talk about One-Eye right now."
"Stop whinin', Logan. I know you were worried about what he'd think." I shift onto my side, propping my head on my arm. "Is he mad?"
"No. It's the damndest thing, Marie. He almost seemed happy for us."
"You mean One-Ey--I mean, Mr. Summers--was glad?" I ask, blushing at my slip. He merely laughs. "God, Logan, you're gonna have me callin' the Professor 'Wheels' pretty soon."
"That's fine by me," he replies, twisting a hand in my hair. "I like rubbing off on you." His velvet tone gives the sentence a double meaning, and I blush again.
A thought occurs to me. "Oh my God.Now Mr. Summers probably thinks we spent all day holed up here in your room, goin' at it like animals."
"Sounds good to me," he shrugs, reaching for me. I slap at his hands. "What?"
"You didn't tell him the truth?"
"He didn't ask, Marie," Logan sighs, nuzzling my hair. "And I sure as hell wasn't going to volunteer any information."
"Great," I grumble. "Now he's thinkin' we're just a couple of horny little rabbits."
His eyes widen considerably. "Say that again," he grins.
"What? Horny little rabbits?" He growls and I squeal as he pounces on me, his weight pinning me to the bed. "Logan.All we did all day was talk. You could've told him that."
"And run the risk of ruining my studly reputation? Hell no, Marie. Let him think what he wants." I give a few experimental wiggles beneath him, and his face changes. His smile melts and is replaced by something that makes it hard to breathe. Then he licks the corner of his mouth lightly and my body arches into his.
Suddenly, we are wearing far too many clothes. He has my shirt off in a blink, and I fumble with his as he tries to remove my jeans. "Damned button fly," he mumbles, yanking impatiently. My soft giggles die away when he finally succeeds in dragging my jeans down my legs and onto the floor. He sits back on his knees so that I can reach his belt, but we're too close to the end of the bed, and he almost falls off.
I grab for him, snickering. "Are you okay, Logan?" If I didn't know better, I'd swear his face was reddening.
It's so sweet and unexpected that it makes me laugh even harder.
He shoots me a glare, then advances on me like a wildcat stalking a doe. "That's it. You're mine now," he informs me.
I smile and hold my arms out to him. "I've always been yours, Logan."
This time, when we make love, it's slower than before. Better. I didn't know that was even possible, but apparently it is.
It's even better.
He touches me not only with his body, but with his soul. He gives me everything that he is, and I do the same. I will continue to do the same.
He clutches me to him, then cries out my name. When he falls asleep, his body is wrapped around mine.
I have never felt happier in my life.
The morning sun is still dull outside the blinds, but I can't sleep. It seems like all I want to do is lie here and listen to Logan breathe, watch his chest rise and fall under the thin white sheet covering our bodies.
I could lie here like this forever, just listening and watching and feeling.
But soon it isn't enough, and I have to touch him. I stretch out a hand and lay it on his cheek. It feels odd, and it takes me a moment to realize why.
The pull. I feel it beginning. It's slower than usual, weaker, but it's there.
He gasps in his sleep, and I yank my hand away from him. I've started trembling, and I'm so cold all of a sudden.like I've had a warm, comfortable blanket torn from my shoulders, leaving me exposed to a harsh, bitter climate.
No. No, this can't be happening. Not now, not after what we've found in each other's arms.
Please, God. Please, no.