It all started around two months ago in October. They had been friends, taken responsibility for each other. Spent time together. Helped each other through the rough stuff, the raw emotion, the sadness and loss.

They had been sent to a deserted compound for re-con purposes. The whole place was deserted and, by the looks of it, had been for at least 20 years. Shrubbery had overgrown, and everything was either broken or left to rot where it stood. The professor had sent them. It had been a holding premises for prisoners on their way for the death sentence. That was the official version; the reality was that early mutants were brought here to be evaluated and then re-trained to be assassins for the government.

‘Ro contracted Scott on h com system to give him a situation update. “Cyclops, we’re at the third out-building. The others were empty, but this one has an old flatbed truck with what looks like a big cage on the back. Whatever was in it busted out in spectacular fashion, over.”

Rogue carried on looking at the various equipment boxes that they had found on the roof, while Scott spoke with ‘Ro on the com link.

“Ok, take some pictures and make your way back to the checkpoint. Over and out.”

Scott walked over to Rogue, and even though he didn’t want to, he noticed the way that her leather uniform clung to her curvy ass. She was a seriously hot woman, she was 22, a full time X-Men, and very very dangerous. She could fight as well as he, and even though she had control of her mutation, her temper made her someone you didn’t cross. Her control was closely linked to her emotions, and if she was pissed off or upset, then it slipped. He knew it wasn’t her temper at all, but rather something she picked up from Logan and clung to because she liked the feel of it.

They had become good friends, and he scolded himself for looking at her like that. He was married, for God’s sake. ‘Ro would electrify his balls if she caught him looking at another woman.

“Have you finished cataloguing everything?” She stood up and turned to him.

“Yeah. We going back to the jet?”

“Yeah, let’s go and wait for the others.” Scott picked up a bag of guns and two others. She had also bagged up a rocket launcher and some plastic explosive. Rogue carried the ammo and grenades.

After placing all the bags in the jet, ‘Ro and Bobby came back with their camera and some samples of hair and cloth that they had collected for Hank to look over.

“Scott?” Pete’s voice was shaky and verging on panic as he ran up to the jet and into the back. All of them turned to him. “It’s Logan. He’s gone berserk. I have no idea why…he…just went crazy.”

“Where?” Rogues begged for him to be ok, please.

“Sub level 4, a back room.”

Scott stepped forward and to her arm to stop her, but she immediately shook him off. “We’ve got a tranq gun, I’ll go and….”

“NO! Me and Logan have a deal. I’m his responsibility, and he’s mine. Stay here.”

She jumped out of the jet and took off toward the main entrance to the compound. Scott called after her, “ROGUE,” but it was no use - she was already racing towards Logan.

Her mind racing along with her feet, down the hall, sub level four, left at the end, and there was the large door. She barged straight through and immediately wished she had checked first. X-Training went straight out the window.

Logan - check that - Wolverine was behind the door. She had just enough time to register the sound of his claws coming out before the sharp pain of three perfect pieces of metal ran across her right shoulder blade.

She cried out and ran further into the room until her back hit the wall. His claws had shredded the back of her uniform jacket, and the cold wall was surprisingly soothing to her wound.

Wolverine emerged from the darkness behind the door and stalked towards his prey. Both sets of claws fully extended and ready to strike if the female made any further attempts to attack him. The scent of her was familiar, cinnamon. Yes, he knew this female. He knew her very well: she was the mate of the man. The man had never taken her, but he knew from the man’s scent and heartbeat upon seeing her that, yes she was to be his mate.

Her fear was evident to him, so he sheathed his claws and stalked carefully towards her until his body was practically flush with hers.

She could see his nostrils flare and tried to calm herself. If he thought she was scared, he probably wouldn’t respond to her. She put hands on his chest, steadying him, making sure he didn’t get any closer.

He was staring at her with near-yellow eyes, predatory stance, male dominance and pure sexuality. He radiated heat towards her, and she almost forgot about the pain in her shoulder from the cuts. They burned, but not as much as the sudden desire she had for this powerful creature in front of her.

Taking in her scent again, he noted the drop in fear and the increase in desire and arousal. She was ready to be taken now. He briefly wondered why the man had never done it. Smelling her increased his want, his need, his desire and his lust for her.

“Logan, I need to come back now.” God, was that her voice? Even she could tell she was lying. She didn’t want Logan back; she wanted Wolverine to stay and look at her like that some more. Like she was the only thing in the world, like he needed her, wanted to touch her and make her all the things that Logan wanted to but wouldn’t because he was her friend. Wolverine wasn’t her friend. She didn’t want him to be.

He grabbed her hands and quickly spun her around so she was facing the wall, her cheek against the cold concrete. Pulling her torn uniform out of the way he licked the full length of one of the cuts. She gasped and closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately not to moan. Encouraging him wasn’t a good idea. No mater how much she wanted to.

He pressed his body against her, every tight solid muscle encased in hard, sexy leather, and he licked her again. This time she did moan. Breathy and drawn out. Then she hissed through her teeth as he ran his fangs over the cut. Her hair had fallen out of her ponytail, and he gathered it in his hand and roughly pulled it to one side to reveal all of her neck and her shoulder. She knew what was coming next: he would mark her.

The taste of her blood sent an electric spark over his tongue, which radiated through his entire body and straight to his groin. He would take her now. Rip this tight fabric off and take her right here. She was ready, ripe, and he could taste and smell how much she wanted it.

Without warning he tensed, she felt him turn his head away and growl. She was shaking with need. Desperate for him to finish what he had started. She didn’t care that the others were on the surface, or that they were in a dark dingy old cell. She wanted him - Wolverine.

He quickly turned back to her and bit hard at her hairline, breaking the skin, and she couldn’t help but buck her hips back against him, which made him growl again. Then he released her and turned to the door unleashing his claws, taking a ‘ready-to-fight’ stance.

She could hear Scott and Bobby coming down the hall. As they came through the door, Wolverine lunged forward. She grabbed his arm, and he swung towards her. Scott raised the gun and fired.

“SCOTT, NO!” It hit Wolverine square between the shoulders.

He staggered, he looked at her, and just as the drug took effect, his eyes cleared, and he spoke to her. “’Ree?” She caught him just before he hit the floor.

Sitting on the gurney opposite the one that Logan was asleep on, she hadn’t taken her eyes off of him for the last 90 minutes. Hank was stitching up her shoulder. They weren’t deep cuts, and he hadn’t meant them. She felt so guilty. When Logan woke up, he would smell her on his uniform, taste her in his mouth, her skin and her blood, and he would know that she didn’t stop Wolverine. Or worse, he would blame Wolverine for hurting her. She didn’t want that.

She felt like she had cheated on Logan: she let another man touch her. They weren’t together, it didn’t matter, she was his, and vice versa. They both knew that. They had just ignored it for the last few years on the pretence of not ruining their friendship. Both so scared of being alone. Not wanting to risk it. Now she knew the minute he figured it out, she would feel like she was cheating on Wolverine.

“Is the pain any better?” His fingers were soft and agile. He could do any procedure, and she wouldn’t feel it. Hank was the original gentle giant.

“Yeah. Will he wake up soon?” She sniffed. Her eyes were puffy from crying a little, but not because of the pain. Because of the guilt.

“Anytime within the next hour, I predict.”

She held on a little tighter to the towel that was around her chest. Her other hand holding her long hair out of his way. Wolverine had shredded her bra and tank top as well. “Uh-huh.” She wanted to spill everything, but knew she couldn’t tell anyone. They would all judge Logan too harshly for the actions of his darker side.

“He bit you.” It wasn’t a question. She turned to him, dropped her eyes to the floor and nodded. “I don’t mean to pry. But you realise you will have to tell him, don’t you? Wolverine thinks that he now has a claim to you. Any male in the mansion could be in danger if he chooses to push Logan’s conscious aside to protect you or to, um, prevent, um, potential suitors. If you see what I mean.”

She smiled at the way Hank stumbled over his words. “I’ll talk to him, don’t worry. It’ll be fine. He’ll wake up, and I’ll talk to him. You won’t…”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality. All finished. Eight stitches on the outer ones and twelve in the centre cut. They should heal without any trouble. Ahh, Scott, she’s all done.”

Scott walked in with a towel around his neck. He had showered and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. “He’s not awake yet?”

“Soon.” Hank picked up his equipment and moved away. He could tell one of them was about to loose their temper.

“You should never have got that close to him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Scott, he didn’t realise it was me until he had already lashed out. It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know, but there must have been another way to let him know it was you before you got close enough to get hurt. He knows you better than that. You should have waited for the rest of us.”

“What did you want me to do, Scott? Bend over and let him sniff my butt!”

“Ok, let me put this another way: *I* had the tranquilliser gun.”

“Scott, I’m a walking tranquilliser gun!”

“That’s not the point, and you know it. The two of you are different. You’re connected somehow.” He checked that Hank was well out of earshot. He didn’t want to embarrass his friend, but he was getting sick of this. They all were. “Get over yourselves and admit to each other what, to me, is obvious. You love each other. Just, do something about it already.”

She couldn’t help but smile at him even though the conversation with Logan wasn’t going to be easy. “And when exactly did you, fearless-leader-Scott, notice that?”

“About twenty minutes before he left after the Statue of Liberty. The Professor showed him the map to Alkali Lake, and then he gave me this big long speech about how he would give me a third useless eye if anything happened to you while he was gone. Popped the claws and everything.”

She laughed despite herself. “A third useless eye? Sounds like Logan. Don’t worry, I’m planning on having the talk. I kinda got fed up with the whole hiding-behind-our-friendship thing.”

“Good. I’ll leave you with him. By the way, I’m not the only one that’s noticed. Everyone has. We all want you both to be happy. We’re your friends, no one’s going to judge. Although if he had done something about it back then, I would have kicked his ass.” He walked out of the lab, followed by Hank, who gave a reassuring smile.

She sat there for about fifteen minutes, just watching his chest rise and fall. She wanted to lay her head on it, run her hands over his face, feel his skin under her fingertips, but then she would have more of her scent on him. It was all going to be difficult enough to explain anyway.

Sighing heavily she got up of the gurney. Turning her back to him, she dropped the towel and pulled her hair up to put it in a loose bun, then thought better of it. He would see the mark. She let her hair go again and picked up the baggy t-shirt that Hank had left for her.

Opening his eyes, he was met with the best sight he could have ever had in his life. Marie with her top off. Her back. Pale, creamy, flesh. Beautiful. She lifted her hair up and then let it go again. Dark soft curls falling over perfect sculpted shoulders. His eyes fell on the fresh stitches. Shit! He did that. He would recognise the wounds anywhere.

She jumped when she felt his hands on her bare shoulders. He felt her tense; even when she realised who it was, she still remained tense. There was something more to this than him simply losing it.

“Are you alright?” His voice was a whisper, like he was frightened if he spoke too loud, he would scare her off.

“It’s just a few stitches. It wasn’t your fault, sugar.” She wanted to turn around, but she still hadn’t put her top on yet. She had her left arm across her chest to cover her breasts.

Standing behind her like this, her skin exposed to him, the smell of her. Slight fear, heavy emotion, salt from shed tears, and a hint of desire, arousal and sex. His breathing became heavy, and his vision swam. God. He was going to faint. No… yep, he was going to faint. His eyes clouded, and he was plunged into blackness.

************END OF PART ONE

She felt him wobble slightly and turned her head to look at him. “Logan?” Near-yellow eyes met hers, and she knew instantly that Wolverine had taken over again. She wasn’t sure what to do next; she was standing in front of an extremely dangerous person, half-naked, petrified, and completely turned on.

He leaned forward and nuzzled in her neck, smelling her hair. Grabbing a handful of hair and pulling it to one side, her scent and appearance was confirmed. This was the female that he had marked earlier. He spun her around. He couldn’t understand why she covered her flesh. Roughly pulling her hands away from her body, he shoved them behind her back and pulled her to him. Soft, naked flesh pressing against his coverings.

He nuzzled her neck again, and she moaned. What the fuck was she doing? She should be stopping this. He was so dominant, and that was what was getting her so hot. She has a strong personality. She didn’t take any shit from anyone. But for some reason, being held, taken, forced slightly, made her skin prickle and the heat rise in her groin.

He let go of her hands, and she went to replace them over her breasts. After growling at her, she put them back at her sides. He bent his head and licked her nipple, then nipped it. She tipped her head back, leaning on the gurney for support.

He pulled at her waistband of leathers, growling again. She got the idea and, with shaking hands, undid the buttons. He put his arm around her waist and lifted her as he tore away the trousers. Thank the heavens, she decided to put on decent underwear this morning. Not that she thought Wolverine would care what colour or design her panties were.

She stood there in front of him, shaking. He raked his eyes up and down her skin as he pulled his own jacket off. Exposing his chest, a light sheen of sweat covered his fuzz of chest hair. His torso moving up and down in the effort to breathe. Then he pushed down his trousers and stood flush with her body again.

Naked. Oh dear lord, he’s naked. He wore nothing underneath his uniform. She didn’t know why she was surprised. She squeaked like a complete girl when he suddenly picked her up, roughly depositing her on the side of the gurney.

He began to lick her nipples again and slowly worked his way down her stomach. Grabbing the front of her panties, he growled and ripped them off. Little pieces of red lace scattering across the med lab floor. She jumped again. He moved her thighs apart and tasted her with one long lick.

“Uh God!” She was going to pass out if he carried on like that. Licking the entire length of her crotch, flattening his tongue out and pressing down when he reached her clitoris. He was licking and growling and rumbling into her. His fingers digging into her inner thighs to hold them apart. Little purple prints already beginning to appear.

Her scent told him she was about to cum. He growled. “AHH!” The taste of this female was fantastic, sweet and untouched. She was pure. Even he knew that taking a pure female required some care. If she was damaged during the mating, then she would not be suitable to carry his young.

Her mind was fuzzed as he stood back up and laced his fingers in her hair. He put her feet on the floor and turned her around. Pushing her back onto the gurney, he positioned himself to enter her from behind. She was suddenly really scared; she had never done this before and knew it would hurt. Logan had never told her anything about his inner demon, but had made it clear that he was dangerous and unpredictable. He was about to take her virginity, something she had always sworn to herself she would keep for Logan.

She put her hands on the gurney and shook her head in a moment of fear. She vaguely tried to turn and push him away. “NO!” He pulled her tighter to him, growled and thrust into her. She moaned, she didn’t mean to, she should be crying out, calling for help, because she had said no. But she moaned. Again he thrust, and again she moaned, gasping from the feeling.

God! This wasn’t happening. She had said no. He should stop. She should stop him. But she wasn’t, instead she was pushing back against him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. A single silent tear fell from her. Emotions overflowing in the heat of the moment. She looked at him over her shoulder and saw Logan, her friend, her love. But this man wasn’t Logan; he was a whole different ball game.

What was she supposed to do now? Was he raping her? Was she letting him? That wasn’t rape was it? Her rambling mind was stopped when his thrusting became more powerful and the sensation tingled in her stomach. Every nerve was finely tuned into the movements of his powerful body, heightened by lust and fear mixing together.

He withdrew and slipped his finger inside her, causing her to gasp again, this time at the change in sensation. Withdrawing his finger, he licked off the blood of her virginity and slid his cock back in. Laying her flat on the gurney so her head fell off the other side, he pumped into her, gritting his teeth, snarling and growling into her back.

She gripped the edge of the medical bed and called his name when she came. “Wolver…aaarrrhh!” He bit down on the soft flesh of her back and snarled as he reached his own completion. Sinking to the floor and taking his female with him. Wrapping himself around her in a protective cocoon, he nuzzled her hair. Sated and satisfied. A good mating: she knew who owned her.

He woke up with a jump. Looking around he saw the med lab. Cold floor beneath his naked ass. “What the fuck?” He said quietly. His mind cleared when the soft bundle in his lap shifted slightly. He drew is his breath quickly. Shit!

Blood and sex. Wolverine. Oh God. He had taken Marie and by the smell of it, her virginity. He looked down at her sleeping in his lap, her head resting gently on his chest. A thin sheet over them. Taking in her scent again, he liked the way she smelled. Of him. Freshly fucked, happy, content and his. Yeah, he definitely liked the way she smelled.

She woke up with a moan and then yawned. Feeling the fuzzy chest under her, she rubbed her face in it and turned to meet the eyes staring at her.

“Hi.” She blushed hot in her cheeks and looked at his chest, absently playing with the hair.

“Hi. It’s just a guess, but…something you’re not telling me, darlin’?”

“Possibly.” She rested her head against him and giggled. She couldn’t help it. In some distant part of her post-amazing-sex-brain, this was funny.

“Marie, this isn’t funny. Did he hurt you, force you? What the fuck did he do to you?” She looked him in the face and full out laughed at him.

“Nothing bad.” She giggled again. Her mind briefly flashed back to her fear of him. But underneath it was Logan. Ultimately, it was Logan. And he would never hurt her.

“This is serious.” He was serious, even if he was caressing the back of her neck with his fingers; he felt a bite mark.

“I am serious. You want details? Well, first he took my trousers off, ripped my panties to pieces; they were expensive, by the way. Then kissed and licked my clit until I was screaming and shaking. Then he broke my hymen, fucked me, and once again had me screaming.”

She repositioned herself so she was straddling his lap. His face was a picture: he didn’t know whether to be aroused or shocked. “Do you want to know what the best part was?” He nodded numbly, her face millimetres from his. “When he put his finger inside me and tasted my blood.” She couldn’t believe all that had just come out of her mouth. She blushed wildly.

Every inch of her perfect naked body was pressed tightly against him. His erection was almost comical, it was so big. He felt the now-familiar tingle in his mind. He was trying to get out again. She saw his eyes flicker, knowing what was to come and almost welcoming it. She wanted Logan. If she said ‘No’ again Logan would stop. Wolverine wouldn’t stop. She knew that now. She wanted the man as well as the dangerous creature, but Wolverine was just a single entity, Logan was a good mixture of the two.

“Logan. Stay with me. Please.” She raised her hips and slid onto his aroused flesh, hissing at the slight soreness she felt. He grabbed her hip with one hand and her hair, gently, with the other. His eyes cleared to reveal nothing but bright Hazel.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m not missing this again.” He thrust up into her, as she put her hand on his shoulders to steady herself and get a good rhythm going. He brought her head forward for a kiss. It started innocently, but soon turned heated. This was the first time he had kissed her. This was the first time anyone had kissed her properly. Bobby didn’t count.

His tongue slid into her mouth. She tasted like fresh cinnamon rolls. This was amazing: she was perfect and she was his. This wonderful girl was moaning and writhing around in his lap, his lap. It made his chest swell.

He grabbed her ass and pulled it down hard onto him as he came, gasped into her mouth. She followed milliseconds later. Giggling again, she pressed her lips to his.

“MMMmmmm. I’m going to be all kinds of sore in the morning.”

“Get dressed. Let’s go back up to my room. I think we need to talk.” Her smile faded.

“What do you mean? Don’t you…” He gently put his finger to her lips to quiet her. He sighed; guess they were having the talk here.

“I don’t think it’ll work. I think I’m a bastard and a whole load of other things that don’t deserve a woman like you. I think you’re perfect, you’re brave, you’re amazing. You feel fantastic under my hands. I love the way you move, smell, feel, and I… I think I’m probably, well definitely, in love with you. So yeah, I want this. If it don’t work, then, we’ll cross that bridge or whatever, when we get to it.”

He lifted her chin, so she could look at him. He wiped her silent tears. “Ok.” She kissed him again, putting her hands in his hair. She sobbed, and her mutation slipped briefly. It gave them both a jolt, and Logan hissed pulling her to him tightly.

“You wanna know something I’ve always wanted to do, darlin’?” She smiled and silently shook her head. “Have you with your skin on.” She was visibly taken aback. He couldn’t mean that, surely. Could he? “I’ve been having sick, twisted little dreams about it since I found you in my trailer. Let’s go upstairs.”

The next couple of weeks were spent with her moving her stuff into his larger room, getting used to living together, mostly him asking stupid questions about what she needed that for and what does this do. She couldn’t believe that she actually had to explain that her hair didn’t go straight on its own.

He had been having long sessions with the Professor to try and keep Wolverine in check. Nearly ever time he had sex with Marie he tried to get out. Fighting at the back of his mind, it had got to the point where he could now hear him snarl and growl ever time he got near her. Chuck wasn’t too worried, insisted that Marie could handle him if he reared his head.

She said the same, repeated some crack about being a walking tranq gun. He hadn’t hurt her the last time; by all accounts, he had been very attentive. Marie still blushed when he mentioned it. But Logan had taken to making her blush other ways, loving the way her skin coloured and her scent changed to the sharp tang of arousal. Catching her in the kitchen and smacking her on the ass. Heated stares at the dinner table. Whispering lewd and overtly sexual remarks in her ear just before she went to teach her Geometry class.

They had sex with her mutation active. He loved it, and she loved it even more. It was such a thrill. The last time they had been kissing and groping, Logan asked her to turn it on. Striping her of her clothes and keeping his on, he had taken his sweet time making her beg for him to finish her off. He called her a fucking bitch when he came and it made her cum like a train. He had also struggled to keep Wolverine contained, and at the last moment he had kissed her, letting her mutation take his breath away.

She got little bits of him again. She already had a quick fire temper, but with an extra dose of him during orgasmic bliss, it made her a little extra snappy. It made the kids a little bit more respectful, which wasn’t a bad thing.

He was lying on their bed flicking through the channels. Looking for a hockey game. Or anything while he waited for Marie to get back from her class. When she did get back, he was going to have a little fun up against the shower wall with her.

Marie walked out of her class and headed for her and Logan’s room. She still had to smile to herself when she thought of that. It was their room. Hers and Logan’s. Together. She mentally went ‘Whoo Hoo!’ and then scolded herself for being a big kid.

As she passed the main hall supply cupboard, a long arm snaked out pulled her in. Before she could think, she was pinned up against the wall by Remy. His body suggestively pushing into her. She growled and tried to push him away, but he held her still.

“Mmm, Chere, smells good.”

“Gambit, if you don’t let me go right now, I swear I’m gonna…” He shoved his hand roughly over her mouth.

“What? Huh. Now, is da petit goin’ to ‘ave what Remy has to offer, or is Remy gonna ‘ave to give it to her, non? Remy get fed-up with watching ya hips sway in the other direction.” He let go of her mouth and ran his hand down to her waist.

“You picked the wrong girl to fuck around with, Gambit!”

“Why? ‘Cause of da Wolverine? Dat old dog no bother to Remy.” She narrowed her eyes at him. She was angry at being cornered, touched; bad mouthing Logan was the last fucking straw.

“Ok Remy. How about we introduce Little-Red-Hooded-Eyes to the real Big Bad Wolf?”

Logan had got bored waiting for her and decided to wait downstairs and bug Scott instead. They were walking towards the main entrance talking about the new improvements for the danger room.

“Logan, I have no idea why you feel the need to install another program about…”

Scott was cut short mid-sentence by the sight of Remy LeBeau flying through the supply cupboard door. Logan, Scott and a couple of the younger kids had to dodge flying bits of wood and trench coat.

She confidently walked out of the cupboard after him. He was lying on the floor holding onto his crotch, desperately trying to catch his breath. She crouched down next to his head.

“Next time you want to feel a cunt, look in a mirror!”

Walking straight up to Logan, she grabbed his arm and pulled him off in the direction of their room. “What the hell did that little French prick do?” Growling with barely restrained anger.

“Tried it on, but as you saw I dealt with it.” She stormed into the room and headed straight for the shower. He knew better than to follow her. She was angry; it was coming off her in waves. Little French bastard got off lightly.

He sat on the edge of the bed, tense. She was washing the smell of LeBeau off of her skin. He could hear and feel Wolverine in his mind snarling. He mentally pulled down the iron gate, keeping him tightly locked in the back of his mind.

“I’ve been thinking.” She came out dressed only in a towel. She smelled like original sin. His mind wandered slightly. Fresh, clean, wet woman. The best smell in the universe. He grabbed the front of her towel and pulled her into his lap.

“Now what does a pretty little thing like you want to waste her time on that dangerous past-time for?”

“Very funny. Can we get out of here? Lately I’ve been finding it more difficult to keep my skin going all the time. I need some space, fresh air. How about we take a holiday? Just a couple of weeks. Some time just for us.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Sounds good to me, darlin’. When do we leave?” He would be glad to get her away from this madhouse. She needed it, and if he was completely honest, so did he. The little snarling animal in the back of his mind was making life more than difficult. Threatening to burst forward and rip LeBeau’s throat out as well as anyone else who even looks Marie’s way, even Logan. Maybe some space would keep him quiet for a while.

****************END OF PART TWO

On the road to Canada.

She had been asleep for the past hour or so, resting her head on the window of he truck. Bag of Jelly Babies in her lap. Chest gently rising and falling, dark hair around her face, white streaks tucked behind her delicate ear. Bare feet resting on his thigh, small and pale. Her top slightly open, with the round top of one breast flashing, inviting, tempting.

He watched the road, looking at her briefly ever now and then. Four days; they had been on the road for four days. It was already hard. Being alone with her, now in the middle of nowhere. Harder than at home. It was only her scent that assaulted him, only her scent to manage, only her scent to arouse and call to the beast.

She shifted in her seat and sighed. That was anther thing, the sounds she made. Last night they had slept in the truck because the motel they stopped at was full. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from having her in the front seat. She had giggled and sighed and moaned for nearly two hours. Soft, beautifully-scented breath escaping her lips, close to his face, his skin, and his mind.

In her eyes, he was gentle and loving, making her feel special, loved and cared for. The sex was full of gentle caresses, soft touches and loving kisses. In his eyes, he was controlled, restrained, holding back and struggling with himself. Halfway through he had very nearly stopped, because he wasn’t sure if he could carry on without biting her, pulling her hair, digging his fingers into her hips, bruising her beautiful skin, scratching her, or calling her some name that wasn’t a term of endearment.

She woke up, stretched and yawned, breaking his mind from his thoughts. She still managed to look attractive. “Hey, sugar.”

“Hey yourself.” He smiled at her, and she beamed back.

“How far away are we?” She stretched again and rearranged herself so that she was facing out the front of the truck.

“We make the next left, then about 3 miles of dirt track, and we’re there. It’s the only place around for miles. Lots to look at.”

“Oh goody: scenery.” She picked up her socks and put them on along with her hiking boots.

“Darlin’, you gotta stay awake long enough to enjoy it.” Joking with her like this, being with her and talking, keeping his mind active was easy. She kept him happy, but made Wolverine restless.

“Hey, driving makes me sleepy.”

“You haven’t driven a single mile, Marie!” She laughed and popped a rose-coloured Jelly Baby in her mouth.

“OK, so being in a moving car makes me sleepy! Do you want me to drive?”

“No, darlin’, we’re nearly there now.”

He pulled the truck up outside the small cabin. He had been given it about three years ago by an old Indian man he helped out a couple of times. The guy had died and left it to Logan in his Will.

She bounded out of the truck. The door to the cabin was locked, and she bounced up and down, telling him to hurry up. Opening the door, they were faced with a lot of dust and a musty smell.

There was a small living room. Two sofas made out of old tree logs piled high with furs, skins and cushions. An enormous open fire, it must have been as tall as Marie and as wide as half the wall. It had a spit-roast wheel over it, a hook with a kettle hanging on it, and a wire rack for cooking pans to rest on.

The living room open plan and went into the small kitchen. There was a small table and two chairs. A couple of cupboards on the wall for storing food and other things.

She ran up the stairs that were next to the kitchen. Upstairs was open plan. A huge bookcase full to the brim with novels and reference books. A large old screen blocked off one corner, behind it was the most beautiful Victorian bath she had ever seen. It was huge, white, with a blue Willow Pattern design. In the centre of the room was a large wooden bed full of furs and skins and over against the chimney-breast was another open fire. A smaller one, but with enough room to heat water for the bath.

Everything needed cleaning before it could be used, or before they could even unpack, but it was lovely and exactly what she had expected.

“What do you think?” He was leaning against the front doorframe, looking sexy and pleased with himself.

She ran over and wrapped her arms around him under his jacket. “It’s perfect.” She released him and looked around. “How about I start to clean up, and you head out for supplies?”

“You’ll be ok by yourself?” She raised her eyebrows at him. She didn’t even bother to answer, and he just smiled and walked off to the truck.

Marie rolled up her sleeves and started with the kitchen. By the time he got back two hours later with food and basic living stuff, the whole place was looking fantastic. She had cleaned surfaces, swept the floors, taken all the furs, cushions and skins outside and belted the dust off, and she even had both the fires going. She had just come down from washing the bathtub when he walked in and stamped the snow off his boots.

He placed two boxes on the table and then gave her a quick kiss before getting the rest of their stuff out of the truck. She had brought her lap-top and GPS-phone with her in case of emergencies. It wasn’t until he brought it in that she realised there was no electricity. Thankfully, he had remembered an old petrol generator. They had also brought blankets, pillows and towels, and a small chemical porta-loo, which she was grateful for.

They had eaten and where currently snuggled in front of the fire on the floor in a pile of blankets. He had found an old radio, and there was soft music playing into the room. Oil lamps lit up the place and cast a brilliant glow over their faces.

“You want another beer?” His arms tightened around her slightly.

“I do, but I don’t.” She turned in his embrace and stared at him, slightly confused. “You would have to move to go get it.” He leaned forward and kissed her smile. He held her lips against his by tangling his hands in her hair. It felt like soft brown silk in his fingers. That’s what she was: precious silk.

“Let’s go upstairs.” She got up and took his hand, pulling him up. He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her and lifted her into his arms. She giggled and buried her face in his chest.

“What?” She giggled again when he asked.

“Sorry, felt like Scarlet O’Hara for a second.” She flung out her arm in an over-exaggerated gesture, and thickened her accent when she spoke. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!” She recited the only thing from the movie she could remember. He simply stared at her with raised eyebrows. “Ok, so I’m guessing you’ve never seen ‘Gone With The Wind’?”

“No, but I have just seen a little Southern girl make an ass out of herself.”

“Shut up and take me upstairs before I get out and walk.”

He lowered them both onto the bed, pulling the blankets out of the way and feeling her body through her clothes. This would take an extra amount of control. She looked amazing, felt amazing, and smelled unbelievable. If this is what life was meant to be, he was a happy man.

That night they didn’t make love; he pleasured her with his fingers first, then his mouth, and then again with his fingers again. She came, gripping his arms, his hair, anything she could get her hands on.

The last time it just wouldn’t go. An image of how Wolverine had looked from over her shoulder flashed into her mind making her cum, crying out, making enough noise to wake the dead. She felt guilty. Technically she was thinking of another man to get her off while with her boyfriend. She felt almost dirty.

She returned his attention by making him climax with her hand; he showed her how to do it properly. Afterwards she gave him the best blowjob he had ever had. Soft lips, licking, nipping and sucking him into oblivion. He came, but still held back. He had to let go of her hair and grab the bed to stop himself from forcing her mouth further onto him and bucking his hips, fucking her mouth.

He felt like a bastard. She was open with him, honest, true, and here he was not giving her every part of him.

He spent most of the next day on the roof, cleaning out the chimney. She laughed at him when he came back inside black from the soot. He also spent a considerable amount of time chopping wood. Fixing the swing-bench on the front porch. By the time night came and they had eaten stew and garlic bread for dinner, she was beginning to wonder if he was avoiding her.

They both enjoyed a bath together. She sat behind him and washed his back, massaging his shoulders and kissing him. She got out and sat him back. Getting back in, she placed herself on his lap.

He was happy to let her do this, let her take the lead. She eased herself down onto him, both of them groaning at the sensation. He gripped her hips, tipped his head back, and let her ride him. The warm water licking their bodies, adding to the excitement. She gripped his shoulders, kissed his delicious lips and nipped at his neck. She decided on the tempo, and he let her. He held her to him, flesh against flesh, and buried his face in her breasts as they came together.

He dried her sated body off and laughed as he slung her over his shoulder, gently threw her into their bed.

“You’re a very bad little girl, you know that?” He climbed in next to her, and she instantly snuggled down into the safety of his enormous chest.

“Just the way you like me, sugar. And I don’t hear you complaining.”

He wasn’t complaining. He just didn’t know how to handle this. He pulled the skins and blankets around them, and she fell into a nice easy sleep with him watching her.

The next couple of days went the same kind of way. Laughing and joking with each other. Talking about the past and friends lost. Taking the piss out of Scott and planning pranks for when they got back.

She asked him about his sessions with the Professor, and he just shrugged it all off and told her not to worry. If anything happened, she would just have to drop him and that was that. She kind of figured that there was more to it, but she knew him well enough not to push.

They went for walks. He showed her the lake nearby, and killed himself laughing when she screamed as a frog jumped out of the reeds.

“It’s a frog, Marie, not Sabertooth!”

She threw a lump of snow at him and started a snowball fight. She eventually lost when he wrestled her to the ground and stuffed snow in her bra. She was screaming for him to stop, but he laughed her at her and kissed her thoroughly instead. In the back of his mind, it reminded him of something, but he couldn’t place it and let it go.

That night she fell asleep in front of the fire, her head resting on his thigh. He carried her up to bed and sat on the front porch for two hours before he joined her. It was harder after dark, holding back, taking back his control. Being in charge of what he would, or wouldn’t, do.

He went to bed eventually and wrapped his fingers in her hair and breathed in her contented scent. Dreams full of soft skin, flashes of brown and white hair, pleasurable screams. Slipping into darkness and turning into long scratches, bite marks and shouts of pain.

Waking in the morning with a jump, he found himself lying on his back with a generous amount of gorgeous woman plastered to his side. He got out of bed and stoked up the fire a little, making it blaze. Getting back under the blankets and furs, she stirred awake.

He cradled her face and kissed her. She pulled away, rumbling about morning breath, but he just kissed her again. “I love you.” He spoke lowering her jaw, sinking his tongue in her mouth. Rolling on top of her, he slid between her legs, already feeling the heat coming from her. She sighed as his large hand moulded over her breast, squeezing gently.

He continued to kiss her gently. She loved the feel of him on top of her. The weight, dominance, the heat from his skin, roughness from his body hair, and the pressing need of his length. Every time they had made love, every time he had touched her, it had been soft, gentle and perfect. He made her feel amazing, loved and cared about. It was never about him, always her. He took pleasure in it as well, but it was restrained pleasure.

But there was something missing, urgency and need. A bite, a scratch, forced grip, or the sting in the scalp from pulling a handful of hair. She hated herself for wanting it. She shouldn’t.

As he entered her and dipped his head to lick her nipple the same way that Wolverine had in the med lab, she realised what had been happening. He was holding back, he was making sure that whatever he did to her wasn’t what he thought Wolverine had done. He was making sure he was the one she associated with love and their relationship. God, didn’t the man realise that it was part of him, a part she liked? Wanted. Needed. Desired and yearned for.

She pulled his head up to kiss her again. She gripped the back of his hair and bit his lip. “Harder…please.” Raising her thigh. He obliged and pumped harder into her welcoming wetness. It felt so good. Almost too good.

He kissed her neck and the soft spot behind her ear. He growled, and she arched into him. This was it. That edge. That need. She was rocking her hips into him, and his thrusts got quicker, making her moan loudly. She scratched at his back, the marks healing as quickly as she made fresh ones.

His head was in her neck, and she licked and nipped at his ear. She was close, he could smell it. He was close too, but was also close to something else. Losing his control and his sanity. Wolverine was there, snarling, growling, hissing at him to bite her.

God, did the man not know what he was doing with her? Let him out and he would show him.

She was going to come, and she wanted to take him with her. She bit his neck, sinking her teeth in as much as she could. It was his undoing. He was growling heavily into her hair, she flew apart into her own private abyss. Logan flew apart too, it was too much, too good, and he couldn’t hold on any longer. To anything.

*************END OF PART THREE

Flashes of skin. Red. Blackness. He was asleep, he must be.

Marie. She was here. She was shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear her. Calling his name maybe.

Smell of skin. Her skin. Redness against pale cream. Lines, three of them. Fresh smell of salt. Rust. What smelt like rust? Blood.

This must be one of his nightmares. Unclear situation, danger, fear, blood and pain. Confusion. Hands flailing in front of his face. Unrestrained anger. Yes this was one of his nightmares.

He twitched and turned onto his stomach.

Opening his eyes, he was face down on the bed. His hands tangled in the sheets. His face shoved into the pillow. His senses slowing came back to him. The cabin, that’s were they were. They. Marie. Pushing himself up, he looked at the pillow and sheets. Torn, bloodied. He had blood on his hands, his chest and he could feel it on his lips, taste it in his mouth and down his throat.

Other smells were in the room. Fear, salt, but mostly blood and sex. Female cum. Cinnamon. Marie.

Holy mother of shit, what the hell happened? “Sniff.” Where did that come from? Marie. He turned and saw her in the corner. Noticing first the blood on her lips and right cheek. She was tightly hunched against the wall. Not crying, but very shaken. Naked, with a sheet wrapped around her. It was torn and bloody.

He bolted off the bed and ran to her. She flinched, immediately pointing a tranq gun at him to stop him. She tried to scramble backwards, but the wall stopped her.

“Baby, it’s me. Logan. Darlin’, please let me near ya.” He was on the verge of panic. He had lost it. Let him out. Let go. And this was the result.

She looked at his eyes, dropped the gun and bolted into his embrace. She sank in relief against his skin and held her arms tightly around his neck.

They sat on the floor. Holding onto each other. After what seemed like eternity, she pulled away slightly. She wiped her face and smiled weakly at him.

“What happened?” Because he really didn’t know. She stilled smelled of sex, and he forced himself to ignore it.

“Wolverine. He, um, kinda went nuts. I’m sorry.” She shifted again and was now sitting with her back to the wall.

“Marie, how the hell could this be your fault? I’m the one who should sorry.” She looked at him, and he registered her scent changing. Holding something back, not quite a lie, but guilt and regret.

She got up on shaky legs, holding the sheet around her. He held her arm, to stop her from moving away, but she flinched and moved away. “Don’t.” Pain, he could smell pain.

He gently held the edge of the sheet. “Let me see. Please.” She knew she couldn’t stop him, so she nodded and let him remove the soiled fabric. He sighed in hate at himself for what he saw. There were worse things than the split lip and teeth marks on her cheek; it made him feel sick.

Her upper arms were covered in bruises, she had teeth marks on her breasts, and as he moved the sheet away lower, he could see another set of teeth marks on her stomach and left thigh. As she turned, he saw more in the centre of her back. None of the injuries were serious, most just grazes, but they looked horrible on his precious girl.

She was shaking while he inspected her. This was her fault. She’d wanted him to lose it, wanted him to be like this, encouraged it. She had seen the change in him the minute it happened, but she had done nothing, bit his neck again, and pulled his hair.

She made this happen. It wasn’t rape, just ownership. She knew the score. She hadn’t said no, not once, but at the time she thought it was because she knew he wouldn’t stop. Now she wondered if she didn’t want him to. This was a reminder of who she really belonged to.

She knew the next question out of Logan’s mouth was going to be why. Why had she let him? Why didn’t she just drop him? Well, that was the twist: she’d tried. But it never kicked in.

It made sense really. She didn’t really want to stop him. Yes, he had hurt her, giving her marks and bruises. But she knew that wasn’t the point or the issue. She wanted to be owned, she wanted to know he wanted her this much. No one had wanted her: her parents, other kids at Xavier’s (her mutation was powerful but only if she got close enough to spit on someone), Bobby certainly hadn’t wanted her.

“Marie, I…I don’t know what to say. Sorry doesn’t even begin to touch it. I just…Shit! Why didn’t you say no or turn your…” He saw her turn her face away at the question. “Marie?” She moved away and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I tried. It didn’t work. My skin. Zip. Nada. Not even a tingle. I had to wait until he fell asleep before I could move to get the tranq. Sorry, I know the darts make you feel like shit after, but it was how you came back the last time, when Scott shot you.”

He grabbed his sweats from the chair and shoved them on. She couldn’t or wouldn’t meet his gaze, and she seemed to think that this was her fault. How could she cause this? What else was going on that he didn’t know about? He sat next to her.

For the first time since he had blacked out in the med lab, he really thought about why it happened. Wolverine wanted her: simple, but not really that simple. He wanted ownership; that meant blood, submission, control and possession. None of it was simple. Logan didn’t want to have to hold back to keep ‘him’ in check. He wanted to give Marie everything, all of him, the good and the bad. Which meant that he needed to find a central point between them, a crossroads. Somehow meet ‘him’ in the middle.

“Where did you get the gun?” Thank God she had.

“The Professor. Just in case.” He reached out and tucked her white streak behind her ear. He ran his thumb over her split lip, briefly wondering if he had hit her or bitten her, then deciding he really didn’t want to know.

“Turn your skin on, baby. Let me fix this.” She turned to look at him sharply, anger rising.

“Why, so you can gloss over it again? I know what’s been going on in your head. I don’t need to touch you for that. I’ve noticed that every single time you touch me, it’s soft, caring, gentle, and *completely controlled*. It’s great and perfect, and I love you but…I need the other stuff as well, and so do you…”

“Marie…I can’t…”

“Fuck, Logan, don’t you see? You say you can’t, so he’s doing it for you. I’ll admit that this went a little far this time. I know I should have said no, but he doesn’t listen to that, and I want….I don’t know. I…” She got up again and leaned against the wall, looking at him.

“He doesn’t listen to that? What, no? Did you say no the last time?” He stood up and faced her. The other day, shoving snow in her top, her yelling no and thrashing around, that was familiar. But no, he couldn’t have. Her face gave nothing away, and she looked at the floor.

“It wasn’t like that.” Her voice was a whisper. He grabbed her upper arms and shook her to him.

“Did you say no or not?” A tear slid down her perfect face, and he knew the answer.

“Yes, but not like that. I didn’t really mean it.” She was panicking. He let go and took a few steps away. She followed him and tried to get him to face her. “Logan, it wasn’t like that, I swear. I wanted him to. I wanted him, I wanted you, but he… it was forced but not like that. Logan, look at me, please.”

“How many fucking ways are there, Marie? You say no, you mean no. I don’t understand. Why would you want him? I’ve tried to show you how much *I* love you.”

“I know. I’m not right. I know that, and I’m sorry. But I like the feeling of being wanted that much. Being that important. He pushed past you, everything, for me. He makes my skin hum, burn, and I like it. You make me happy, special, and completely loved. But there’s no balance. I’m selfish, I want it all, I want to feel loved and special, but I want to feel possessed and marked at the same time. I need both sides of you, Logan, and I think if you’re honest, you like it, too.”

It was true: he couldn’t deny that. He had bitten women before, pulled hair and split the odd lip with his teeth in the past. But not Marie. She wasn’t like those women, and he knew he shouldn’t want to be that man anymore. He should want to be someone who was worth giving your life for. Someone who you would choose rather than play with until you got home to your decent, law abiding, good-natured man.

“I don’t like waking up and finding you covered in your own blood. I don’t like seeing your face marked like that. *I* don’t want *him* to hurt you. Because if we carry on like this, he will. You don’t know all of it, Marie.” He sat back down on the bed and looked at his hands.

“So tell me, because I’m thinking I should leave. I obviously have issues that neither of us can deal with. I think my idea of sex is more than a little off. I do this to you. I make him come out. You don’t like it, and you don’t want it.”

“He’s the product of them. He’s what they played on to get me to do their biding, their missions. Not the ones I choose to go on as an X-Men. He’s not something I like to acknowledge, let alone let near you. I wanna find that balance too, but I don’t know how. If I’m completely honest, when it comes to you, I want the same things. I want possession, I want control, your submission, and I want you to wear a mark that shows everyone you’re mine. But you’re not like that, and neither am I anymore.”

“Logan, has this not told you anything about me? Look at me.” He raised his head and met her fiery brown eyes. “These marks, they’re nothing. I could have said no, but I didn’t. Not because I thought he wouldn’t have stopped, but because I didn’t want him to. My skin, another useless reason. If I really wanted it to work, don’t you think it would have? I shot you with the tranq gun because I thought that was the right thing to do. I feel guilty because you’re blaming him for his actions, when he didn’t really do anything wrong. Yeah, I was scared, scared he wouldn’t stop, but every time it tipped me over the edge. I’m sorry that’s not what you want to hear. Maybe I’m sick, I don’t know.”

He stood up and closed the gap between them. “Who do you want?” She touched his lips and kissed him gently. It was such a tragic question, he just didn’t get it.

“I want you. But the you who used to be there, before Alkali. The you who wasn’t so afraid of what people thought, what they said. Their actions were their own and nothing to do with you. I want the man who would rather wing it, than think about his lesson plan. The man who drinks, smokes, enjoys a good fight, and doesn’t step back and assess the situation. Most of all I want the you that’s not restrained or holding back all the fucking time. You don’t look before you leap: why should you?”

“I’m not that man. What’s wrong with wanting to be a teacher, decent? Make a living? Help people?” He was getting angry. How dare she? He’d changed for a reason, didn’t she know that? This was about Wolverine. He was the issue here, not Logan. Logan was fine. Wolverine was the one playing games in his head and messing with his girl. “Maybe you should leave because I’m sick of being told who I was. I learned a long time ago who I should be.” She knew he didn’t mean to shout.

She knew this had to be said. Her whole life came down to this. She hated it, her life revolving around this, but there was no way around it. If she wanted Logan to be his own man, the one she’d found all those years ago in that bar, she had to say it. She had to rip it out of the back of his mind and shove it in front of his face.

“She wasn’t your fault.”

**************END OF PART FOUR

She sat on the edge of the bed, sheet wrapped tightly around her and watched him dress. He hadn’t said a word to her. He just walked over the other side of the room and stared dressing. Roughly shoving his clothes on and growling. He sat on the opposite side of the bed and put his socks and shoes on.

He stood up ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Their eyes met briefly, and he sighed, shook his head, and stormed off downstairs. She heard him grab his jackets, knocking the chair over. She jumped as he slammed the door and continued to sit there when the truck started and pulled away with a slight screech of tyres.

“That when well!” She got up and stoked the fire. Then boiled enough water for a small bath. Gently running her wash cloth over her bruises and teeth marks, she smiled to herself. He was a stubborn bastard, but she loved him. She suddenly realised that she hadn’t actually told him that.

Arguing with him had somehow cleared the fog in her mind on the whole Wolverine situation.

Now she knew what Logan wanted, and he knew what she wanted. So what if she liked rough sex? A lot of people did. Jesus, if the internet sites that she caught Jubilee looking at last month were any indication, half the known world had some kind of bedroom issue. Besides, the memories she had of Logan prior to the Statue of Liberty, he wasn’t a passive lover by any stretch of the imagination.

Feet, that was the one she could never understand. What was the point in feet? Either they were ugly and hairy, or they stank. No one would ever get her sucking on their toes, and she would never let anyone near hers. No sir, not even Logan.

He drove for an hour until he hit the town. He parked outside the bar and walked in. Sitting down on one of the torn, leather barstools, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Picking his head up, he gestured to the barmaid.

“Beer.” She smiled at him and lust registered in her scent. She was pretty, short brown hair, nice eyes, and a genuine smile. He rolled his eyes; a couple of years ago he would have smiled back and have been fucking her against the outside wall by closing time. Now she was just a pretty face, one he would happily look at and pass by, knowing his girl was at home.

She was at home alright. Probably crying by now. Calling him every name under the sun for leaving her there. Packing her bags by now. He had had to get out of that house. She had no place saying what was or wasn’t his fault. He knew how things should have turned out, and he knew what mistakes had been made. The past should be left alone: you couldn’t change it and knowing it rarely made you feel better. So what the fuck is the point? If there was something to be learned from Jean’s death, it was that.

He didn’t care who he was or where he came from. Yes, he wondered, but he didn’t *need* to know anymore. He had other reasons for carrying on now. Marie was one of them. If he was honest, Scott was another. He felt responsible. This had all started because of him. Jean was ultimately his fault.

He remembered her voice like it was this morning. She was an amazing woman. He thought he had truly been in love with her, but after she died, all he felt was guilt that he hadn’t tried harder to save her. The love he felt had been for a very dear friend, a woman who had seen past the gruffness.

Yeah, she had been a little cruel when he made a pass at her, but she was right. Who would want to take him home? Look at what he had let happen to Marie. He hurt, caused harm and mayhem. He was unpredictable and dangerous. But he had tried: good guys stick around, and he *had* tried.

Scott had never made an issue out of it. Just before he’d married ‘Ro last year, Logan had brought it up and tried to apologise. Scott had stopped him, saying there was nothing anyone could have done, and he thanked Logan for being supportive. Three months later, he had moaned and groaned his way into a suit to be Scott’s best man.

Of course. Why was he so stupid? He chucked a couple of bills on the counter, downed his beer and walked out to his truck. It was just starting to get dark, and he could feel the heaviness of Wolverine in his mind.

He sat in the cab of the truck with his phone in his hand, looking at it. He had been looking at it for about twenty minutes. Suddenly the truck was too small, and he got out. Slamming the door shut, he kicked it a couple of times. A phone call, it was one damn phone call. Leaning against the side of his truck, he dialled Scott’s number.

She had dried her body, got dressed and dried her hair. It was dark outside now. She made some coffee and sat on the porch swing. Maybe she had said too much, pushed too hard. He should have been back by now, unless he wasn’t coming back.

Every time she felt confident about what was going on, it went bonkers. He went bonkers, or she went bonkers. The whole bloody world was bonkers. Wolverine was bonkers, Logan was bonkers. Everyone was bonkers, Magneto was bonkers, and she guessed that it was fair to say the entire mutant population had at some time or another been, yes, you guessed it, bonkers.

She finished her coffee and went inside to pour herself another. She grabbed her laptop and went up to bed. She was wearing her baggy t-shirt and settling herself under the covers; she fired up the computer. A couple of hours of checking her emails and maybe a MSN chat with Jubes would make her feel better. It was also a good way to pass the time until Logan came back. Or didn’t.

Scott was sat in the staff kitchen with Hank, ‘Ro and Pete when his phone rang. Ignoring the laughs and snickers from his friends when hey heard his ‘YMCA’ ringtone, he answered. “Hello.”

“Hey, it’s me.” Logan could hear laughing and snickering.

“What did you do?” Scott chuckled.

“Why do you always assume that I did something?” Logan began to pace around the truck.

“Ok, so what did she do?”

“Nothing really,” Logan grumbled, and Scott chuckled again.

“So you did do something?” Logan could hear Hank’s voice in the background talking about some genetic thing.

“Kinda.”

“Logan, what’s going on?”

He sighed and rested against his truck again. “Look, if I asked you a serious question would you tell me the truth?”

“Depends. What about?” He could hear ‘Ro. They all sounded relaxed and happy. He felt momentarily guilty because he knew what they were about to talk about would ruin that for Scott.

“Jean.”

“Hang on.” Logan heard him say that he would take the rest of the call outside, said to ‘Ro it was guy stuff. Great, now the whole mansion would think he couldn’t get it up. Thanks, Scooter!

The sound of voices grew quieter until he could hear nothing but a bit of breeze. Scott was in the grounds now. “Ok, what’s going on?”

“Rogue said some stuff, and I walked out.”

“What did she say? And what does it have to do with Jean?”

“Do you blame me? For her death, I mean. Have…have I changed since she died? I’m having a little trouble here, Scott. Rogue’s got me thinking my guts out, and I can’t handle it anymore. She wants parts of me that I don’t want to admit are even there! Jean’s death made me want to forget, be something else.”

“Logan, did something happen with Wolverine? Is Rogue ok?”

“She’s fine, and it’s none of your damned business what happened. Just answer the question…please.”

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. Logan heard it and felt sick. “I guess you’ve changed a little, calmed down. And no, I don’t blame you.”

“Simple as that, huh, one-eye?”

“Fuck you, Logan! Yes, I did blame you! I also blamed myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Come on, Logan. We weren’t the only ones on that jet.”

“What the hell where they supposed to do?”

“Really, none of them could have done anything? What about Kurt, why didn’t he teleport her away at the last moment? Bobby could have frozen the water around her. Xavier - surely he could have done something. ‘Ro hello, in control of the elements - water is an element. Fuck, half of the kids on that jet had some kind of mutation that could have done *something*. It might not have worked, but no one even tried. No one, Logan. It’s easier to name the ones that couldn’t have done anything. I’ve been through all of this, all of it, and I’ve let it go. She did what she thought was right. She saved everyone on that plane. We weren’t there to save her; she was there to save us.”

“I kinda got lost in all the blame shit.” He knew that now. In the back of his mind Wolverine began to purr slightly.

“Logan, you got lost in yourself. Listen, it was inevitable. You didn’t deal with it at the time, and it’s obviously come back to bite you in the ass now. Grief does that. Go back to Rogue. Talk; apologise if you need to. Don’t lose her because you’re not willing to just be you.”

Logan listened to him talk and seriously thought about what he was saying. It did make sense; he never dealt with his friend’s death, just pushed it all away and got on rebuilding the mansion and helping the kids out. “Do you miss her?”

“Yeah, and I know you do, but you just have to accept it.”

“I’m not going to sit down and cry like some little pansy-ass dick, Scott.” Logan chuckled and relaxed slightly.

“Oh for God’s sake, Logan, just get over yourself. You have a beautiful woman, a home, friends. Be happy with that.” He was right; Logan had more than most people, and it all did make him happy. Maybe finding that middle road was easier than he thought.

“Thanks, Scooter.” Logan cut the line. Scott groaned; Logan hadn’t called him that in years.

‘Ro came out onto the grass behind Scott just as he hung up the phone. He turned around and smiled at his beautiful wife. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah. Apart from I think I just encouraged Logan to be annoying again.” She laughed softly and hugged her husband.

Marie turned the computer off and settled down under the covers. She wasn’t crying, and she wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to be weak. She refused to be upset. Maybe he would be back by the morning. She briefly thought about ringing the mansion to see if he had called. Jubes hadn’t been online, and she hadn’t answered Marie’s text either.

Laying there staring out the small window, she wondered what he really thought of her. Did he think that she had sexual issues? He couldn’t still see her as just a poor little kid? That was the only explanation: he thought she was too young to think like this and too young to want the rougher stuff.

She had a lot of his memories still, she had rifled through them a little before. He had inadvertently passed on a great deal of sexual experience, not that she had ever used any of it. He had been rough with other women. She understood that he didn’t want to hurt her, but there was a fine line, and she knew he could find it if he tried hard enough.

She realised that he wasn’t the only one that needed to find some balance. She had issues with being left alone, being deserted. She knew he wouldn’t do that if he could help it, but the thought was still there. Being with him made her forget about her insecurities, but when she was on her own, they came rushing back.

She started to think about him when they’d first met. He was half-naked in that fighting cage; he looked magnificent, strong and powerful. She had wanted to feel the muscles in his back, run her hands over him. She giggled to herself and snuggled further into the covers, smiling brightly. He had looked at her after, as she sat there with pure innocence, watching him. He had impressed her and scared her at the same time.

Thinking about him like this made the covers way too hot. She ran her hands down her throat and touched her breasts, imagining they were his. She tipped her head back when she squeezed her nipples though the fabric of her shirt. Letting one hand trail lower, she felt…the only way to describe it was - naughty. She giggled again and slipped her hand inside her panties.

She rubbed two of her small fingers over her clit while using the other hand to play with her nipple. Thinking of the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin, slight tickle of his mutton chops and the heat he radiated in her direction, she was soon raising her legs and moving her hand quicker. She bit her lip and dipped her middle finger inside herself several times. Moaning loudly, then she shouted his name and shuddered over the edge.

Snuggling under the covers again, she drifted into a fitful sleep. He would come back, she was sure of it. But what would happen when he did, and what would be the consequence? Her dreams drifted between images of him touching her and images of being bitten and bruised.

Logan got out of the truck and walked to the cabin. The bedroom lamp was still on, but standing outside the door, he could tell she was asleep by the soft breathing. He went in silently. “Jesus, she hasn’t even locked the door.” He swore under his breath at her lack of responsibility, fancy going to bed and leaving the door unlocked. He took off his jacket.

Her scent was everywhere: soft cinnamon, shampoo, and drifting down from the bedroom was a strong smell of sex.

He smirked to himself; he couldn’t leave her alone for five minutes. She was a complete nymphomaniac. He rubbed his eyes and chuckled softly. Good thing for her, he had a healing factor, or she’d be taking care of herself for forever more.

He looked up the stairs and smiled again. A dirty little thought had just popped into his mind. “Ok, little girl, you want us, you got us.” He took off his boots and socks, then his shirt, smiling while he took off his vest and then his jeans. In his temper earlier, he hadn’t bothered with underwear. Not that he did normally; special occasions only.

He was standing naked in the kitchen, smirking at his own plan. He was planning on putting everything in perspective once and for all. He was going to take back his control over his inner self and sort this thing out. Make sure that Marie and he both knew who they were and where they stood.

Enough of this emotional conversation crap; he was going to sort it the old-fashioned way, with action.

A noise from downstairs made her jump awake. She sat up and rubbed her face. She could hear someone moving around. She pushed the covers back and went to the top of the stairs. “Logan?” It was completely dark since the fire had fizzled out a couple of hours ago.

She went down three or four steps and stopped. Trying to adjust her eyes, she could make out a figure standing at the bottom. A large and dangerous, looming dark figure. “Logan?” Her voice betrayed her nervousness, and she was sure she was shaking. The figure took a step up and became marginally clearer. His hands were twitching at his sides, and he was staring at her with dangerous intensity, his chest heavily raising up and down as he obviously struggled with his restraint. “Oh shit!”

She turned and bolted back up the stairs. She heard him growl as he caught her from behind and pushed her onto the bed. She let out a, “Oooph,” as she was crushed under his weight. She tried to get free as he grabbed both of her wrists, putting them in one of his large hands and holding them above her head.

He was sitting astride her bottom, in the centre of the bed holding her wrists in one huge hand. She could feel he was naked, feel his erection against her inner thigh. She had a brief thought that she should stop this, but something in the back of her mind was stopping her, telling her to accept herself fully.

He popped his claws on his free hand, and she jumped at the sound. He slid his hand under her shirt and sliced it off of her, revealing her skin. The marks he had given her were still there, and he licked them. She moaned into the covers and unconsciously raised her bottom up.

He smiled against her skin. She was loving this, and finally, so was he. He ran his hand over her back and down into her panties. He let out a single claw and gently cut the sides. Then he very roughly grabbed the material and ripped it away from her.

She jumped again. God, this was so good, but it shouldn’t be, and she felt so treacherous. He ran his rough hand over her bottom making her groan. Then he laid his body in between her legs and slipped his hand round in between her and the bed, massaging her clit with his fingers. Rubbing them around her nub in circular motions.

Again, she buried her head in the covers and moaned at the amazing sensation he was giving her. “Logan’s gonna kill me!” She mumbled, but he heard her words, making him smile again. Even though this was making her extremely wet, Logan was truly the one she wanted. He licked her back and ran his fangs up her skin: they weren’t really fangs, just his own sharp canines. “Ugh, God!”

He growled, rubbing himself against her buttocks and massaging her clit at the same time. She was making small moaning sounds and bucking her hips in the direction of his cock. She was so close. Just a little more, and it would tip her over the edge. Her skin was burning from the touch of him, aching for more, screaming out for him to mark her. It was all in conflict with her mind that was screaming for Logan to take over and be with her again.

He let go of her hands, but growled and made it clear she was to stay still. He leaned back, held onto her hips and pushed his aching cock into her. She scrunched the covers in her hands and moaned. “Please.” He had no idea what she was asking for, and neither did she. He laid down on her again, holding her wrists and slamming hard into her.

Letting out a cross between a gasp and a moan with each thrust, she was in heaven and about to explode. He let go of one wrist just to see what she would do. She grabbed the covers and made no attempt to stop him. He pushed her hair out of the way exposing her neck. He nipped at it and thrust harder, growling into her ear, letting his hot breath tease and tingle her skin.

God, she was going to cum, anytime now, just a few more and then it would go. “GAWD! Ugh…more please, yes…Wolvermmmmphh” He slammed his big hand over her mouth, never breaking his rhythm. Fear gripped her scent.

“Name’s Logan, darlin’. You better remember that!” Her fear ebbed away, her eyes went wide, and she came, shuddering and shattering into his embrace, pushing back against him, begging him with her body to come along with her. He did, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and snarling as he did.

He rolled onto his back and laid there panting with a smug grin on his face. She hadn’t moved, and her breathing was as bad as his own was. “You ok?”

She looked at him and giggled. “Yeah.” She reached out her hand, touched his lips. “I love you, Logan.” It was the first time she had said, and now it felt right.

He put his palm on her cheek, and she nudged into him. Running it round the back of her neck, he pulled her to him for a passionate kiss. During the kiss he rolled her under him, just as she let his tongue into her mouth. They hadn’t done a lot of kissing, and this was making up for it.

She felt soft and perfect under him. He couldn’t stop himself from devouring her with his mouth as well as his hand. She broke the kiss because she needed some air. “Do we need to talk about this? Because I don’t think we do.”

“I think you’re right, baby. We have far too much to do.” He kissed her, running his hand between her legs again, plunging two fingers into her still-wet opening. She moaned and gripped his forearm, making sure he didn’t stop what he was doing. He kissed down her neck, her throat, past her breasts and straight to her core. Licking and nipping at her clit while his fingers plunged into her roughly.

He took his fingers out and licked them clean. She blushed as he did it, but continued to watch his blatant display of possession. He positioned himself in between her legs, about to enter her, then he ran his finger over her wetness again and put his finger in her mouth. She closed her eyes and sucked her own juices off of his finger. When she opened her eyes to look at him, he looked fantastic, his face nothing but pure sexy darkness.

Next he pushed into her, while nipping at her neck. This time, they took their time, slowly taking each other on a fantastic ride. Soft touches, mixed in with firm grips and pleasurable sounds. By the time they were both ready to explode, they were covered in sweat and shaking as they kissed. Her legs wrapped tightly around him, hands secured in each others hair and moaning into each other as the sensation finally took their breath away.

Logan woke first in the morning, finding her snuggled into his chest. Lovely contented smell, her skin, and a soft rosy-ness to her checks. He smiled down at her and, for the first time in what seemed like months, relaxed. He touched her cheek lightly, but it was enough to stir her. “Hey, baby.”

“Morning, handsome. You ok?”

He kissed her hard on the lips. “I feel fucking amazing, darlin’.” She giggled at the stupid grin on his face. He jumped out of bed and literally hopped into his jeans. “I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“Oh God, I’ve turned you into The Boy from Oz!”

Whe he spoke his voice was thick with sarcasm. “Yeah ‘cos I look like some Australian pansy ass who’s gonna dance around in a sequinned shirt!” As he trotted down the stairs like a truly happy man, he broke into song. “When my baby, When my baby smiles at me, I go to Rio, De Janeiro, my-oh-me-oh, I go wild and then I have to do the Samba , And La Bamba……………..”

Marie lay on the bed with her head buried in the pillows, crying and laughing ‘til her stomach hurt.

***************END