I had a lot of fantasies 'bout how it'd go the first time Logan touched me. More'n I can count, to be honest. But somehow, I missed this one.

Him just walking in to my room.

I had my own by then. In the adult wing, sort of small but comfortable and I liked how remote it was. Jubes and Kitty and Bobby were off at college, and I stayed here and did my degree in the library and on the internet every day. Which worked out fine. My control was good but still--puttin' myself in that kind of position (read; interaction) on a day to day basis didn't appeal to me and I just wasn't that fond of crowds. Leftover paranoias from my glove-and-bodysuit days, no question.

Logan was home more than he wasn't these days. Which maybe could be attributed to the increasing number of women wandering 'round the mansion, and more than a few I knew he slept with, no question. I'm not an idiot and I'm his friend, even if he never talked about it to me. And I never brought up the subject--I'm not a masochist, after all.

So he comes in, as usual, around ten and plops down on my bed--like he owns it (little does he know he has a permanent lease on the fantasy rights)--and gives me a long look. So I turn around on my desk chair.

"Movie?" I asked and he shook his head, but absently, like he wasn't paying much attention to my question. "Got a hot date? Lost? Need to sharpen the claws?"

"Lay off the claws, baby. I'm thinkin'."

"Must be difficult--you don't do it often."

He growls but not--well, his heart didn't really seem to be in it. Which was weird, but Logan's odd--hostile is what we like to call his good mood. So I sat back in my chair and waited for him to decide what he wanted to do. Though truth be told, I wasn't in the mood for a movie.

"Whatcha doin', anyway?" he asked, and I glanced at my desk.

"Homework." That sounded pathetic. I know.

"On Friday?" He made it sound like a crime or something--come to think of it, in LA, I think it is.

"You have a better idea?"

Apparently, that stumped him somewhat and I started putting my papers up in the desk and turned around to see him watching me again with that weird expression that was three parts curiosity and one part interest and one part somethin' else. So's okay, Logan, whatcha want here, anyway?

"Doncha ever get bored?"

That was the definition of my life, as a matter of fact. And I guess my look must have sort of conveyed the idea, because he grunted something and rested both elbows on his knees and gave me this long, serious glare--Logan's unique version of concern.

"You're alone too much."

"And that's why you stopped by? Keep me company?"

A hint of a smile--ooh, not a normal Logan characteristic, lemme tell you. So I looked back at him and tapped my fingers on my desk. Then, frustrated, I shook my head at him and turned back to finish putting up my stuff.

"Don't you have someone you just gotta nail? There's a new teacher--"

And a groan, which was really cute--Logan's reputation precedes him always among the new people at the school. I'd seen her lookin' at him.

"Contrary to popular belief," a glare at me, which I smiled serenely for, "I don't sleep with every woman I meet."

Except me, of course. Tell me another one, Logan. Unless he got voice recordings of females in heat in his room, Logan didn't spend many nights alone. Well, weekend nights, anyway. Well, okay, not recently. And with him looking at me like that, I had pull up a defense and you know, I didn't have one. Far's I can remember--damn, I hate to be wrong--it's been awhile.

Not that I'm gonna let me know I'm wrong. Girl's gotta have some pride.

"How long has it been since you've been laid?"

Logan's reaction wasn't exactly what I expected--no shock, no horror, no embarrassment--oh yeah, he knows he's in my head and I got over feeling delicate about the entire sex business a hell of a long time ago, about the time I figured it wouldn't be in the near future I'd be getting any. Circumstances changed--I could touch. But I didn't--mostly because datin' a guy from school is like datin' my brother, and normal humans, as a rule, are just a bit wary when they figure out the whole brain-sucking business I'm capable of in the right circumstances.

"Why? You wanna rectify the situation or somethin'?"

Whoa. I blinked. And he grinned a little, leaning back on one elbow, waiting for me to react. Back down. Do somethin' girly. Thinkin' he won. Well, screw that. I stood up, giving him my most perfect smile, the smile that can melt men at fifteen paces--so it's a look, don't touch kinda show, I get my kicks where I can find 'em. Go figure.

"Sure. Got some condoms?"

A cocked eyebrow. Then reached under him, threw his wallet on the bed, opened it up, and pulled out--three. Hmm...this wasn't goin' like I thought. The gauntlet was damned well thrown and I set my teeth. No way he was bluffin' me down--he damn well taught me to play poker and I've beat him one game out of--er, thirty.

So I took two steps, dropped in his lap, and tried to look seductive. He started laughing, damn him, laying back on the bed and fuck him, he was just about dyin'. Bastard.

"Do better."

Better? I saw that in Basic Instinct (I think), thank you, and Michael Douglas (Brad Pitt?) had that chick against a wall in less time than it takes to spell Mississippi, so damn. Logan finally stopped laughing, folded up his hands behind his head, and smirked.

So I thought it through--problem is, I only got male-perspective here on how this goes, and Logan in my head wasn't exactly the pickiest guy on earth when it came to pickin' up women. Frowned, then braced a hand on either side of his shoulders, looked down at him. And you know, it's about that time I realized he's gonna wait me out. He's really gonna wait for me to back down. Ain't no way that was happening or my name's not Rogue. I gotta name to live up to.

And he grinned up at me and I leaned down and kiss him. Hard. With tongue, darn it, and wow, that was really fun. Made the whole notion of basically exchanging saliva pretty understandable. But two hands braced on my shoulders and levered me up. I won, yippee for Rogue, man-slayer extraordinaire. And he probably saw it on my face, dirty bastard.

"That's not how you kiss, baby."

I wanted to remind him that I'd seen a hell of a lot of movies--and that brief foray into porno besides--and that's exactly how it's supposed to go. Ask Melanie Griffith.

"Okay," I told him, sitting up and crossing my arms over my chest. "You taught me to kick the asses of half the muties at this school. You want it done right, you can damn well show me how to do it."

"Works for me." And before I could really rethink the whole thing--okay, so I wouldn't have rethought it much, that was damned fun, no question--Logan sat up and took my wrists, pulling them down. I closed my eyes.

"Look at me."

"I thought you were supposed to keep your eyes closed." I was sure that's how it went in the movies. Logan sighed--it's hilarious to see that, by the way--and tilted my head up with one hand.

"Sure. Works like that. After you got a decent idea on trajectory, you know. Don't wanna hit the ear or the nose or somethin', right?"

He had a good point. So I opened my eyes and he tilted my head a little, leaned forward, and brushed his lips over mind. Softly. Once. And since he seemed to be doing the actual trig calculations to make this thing worked, I kept my eyes shut.

"Relax your mouth."

"What?" I opened my eyes and he shook his head. "You mean open it?"

"You're not tryin' to blow up a balloon, darlin'. Just relax--like you're starin' at one of those boy bands you like so much."

Hmm. Seemed reasonable. I shut my eyes, relaxed my mouth--he didn't complain so I guessed I got it right this time--and when he kissed me, there was a brush of tongue across my lips, then just between. And I liked that--wanted to do it again. Lifting my hand up, I slid my fingers over his jaw and leaned forward--opened my eyes briefly to check the whole trajectory thing, almost went cross-eyed, figured I was close enough--and kissed him back. Tried what he did, heard an approving rumble of sorts, and did it again. And I really liked it--I mean, let's face it, a couple of billion teenagers across the world can't be wrong. Then he cupped my face in both hands, tilting my head a little more, and pressed his tongue between my lips and brushed across my teeth.

And wow, that was damned good. Something in me twisted a little at the feeling.

Movies helped. To get a good kiss in, teeth gotta move, I did know that much. So I opened my mouth a little more and that was it, he had full access and took advantage of it. Fingers slid in my hair, locking me in place--no real necessity, maybe that was just to make sure I kept the right position--and his tongue brushed mine, slowly traced the line of my teeth--God, he was almost in my throat and I could hear myself making some damned odd little sounds. Shifted a little closer, got an arm around his back, and slid us straight together.

Oh yeah. This was fun.

After a way too short period of time, he pulled back, giving me this slightly drugged look before the hazel all cleared up and he leaned back on one arm. And all without meaning to, I pressed my fingers to my lips. So that was what a kiss was supposed to be.

So I kissed Cody--yeah, I was sort of distracted by the brain-sucking--oops, mutationally correct, 'life absorption' bit. Sort of lost the point of the kiss when I started killin' him. So this was new. Different. I liked it. So did he.

And he thought I was gonna just get up and declare the field his, after that; I could read him like a book. Nope, sugar, I always win. Ask the guys who are stupid enough to play board games with me.

"What next?" I crossed my arms and waited for him to stammer something and push me off his lap. "Take off my shirt?"

"Sure."

Shit.

"Aren't you supposed to do that?" I parried. Waited, watched him study me again with that peculiar intensity. Oh, no Wolverine, buddy, you ain't waitin' me out. You just pack up and go home--after another kiss, though. Or two. My reward for winning.

But he levered himself up, fingers dropped to my shirt, and damned if he didn't start unbuttoning the damned thing. When he got to my waist, he glanced up at me, and I tried my most blase look, like men unbuttoned my shirt every day and there wasn't nothin' to it. When he reached the end, he took my wrists, raisin' them above my head, and slid it straight off and tossed it behind me.

And I was getting sort of curious about this whole thing. So I looked down at him and waited for him to back down. He grinned, sliding fingers in my hair, kissed me--yeah, that was good, I knew I had to start doin' this more often--and his other hand slid up and cupped my breast through my bra.

Oh God that felt good, and I leaned into it. Ran his thumb over the nipple, reached behind me with one hand and undid the clasp--hey, I knew how to do that, I was a real wonder at the late-night dorm parties--and let it sink down to my elbows. So he was tryin' to see if mostly naked would cut it. Nope, not me. I can beat him. I dropped my arms, let it fall in my lap, picked it up casual as you please, and tossed it behind me.

And his mouth was doing odd things now to me--it was wet and hot and he was pressing a little harder and the his tongue was a little more aggressive and combined with his fingers on my breast--well, it was gettin' hard to think. His hand slid to the back of my head, pressing even closer, and I felt a sort of heat begin under my underwear, spreading up all over me. He slid his hand to my other breast--and oh, God, that was good. And I moaned something and he pulled his mouth back, giving me this satisfied smile.

Oh shit, I forgot. He's supposed to stop first.

"Aren't you wearing too many clothes?" That should get him. Damned well should, telling him to commit to the moment and remove some significant clothing. But all I got was a cocked eyebrow.

"Fix it." Then kissed me again--God, he's good at this--and I reached between us, found the buttons on his shirt, began trying to get them undone--but his fingers were moving in lazy circles around my nipple and that and the whole kissing business was messing with my head big-time. So I ripped a few. Several. All. He has lots of shirts, Xavier has a lot of money, we'll survive. Using both hands, I got it down and off, found the undershirt--is an undershirt the equivalent in underclothes to a woman's bra?--and started lifting it up. He broke from my mouth to let me pull it off, then slid an arm around my back and pulled me flat down on the bed on top of him.

"What next?" he asked, giving me that lazy smile. Oh fuck--well, no, not that, at least I didn't think so. We were in Foreplay Mode. So be it. I thought it through, then slid my knee between his legs and ground down a little. He groaned softly. "Good choice. I'll show you something else, though."

And they say lessons are boring. Bah, take one of Logan's classes on foreplay.

With really practiced ease, he rolled me on my back, getting my legs apart at the same time and making himself comfortable between them---and God--that felt good, especially when he began a slow rocking that really just did some things to all that warmth down there. Slid a hand into my hair, kissed me again, and I got an arm around his back and pulled him against me--tried to think how I should position my legs to get maximum effect, before he moved his mouth down to my neck and there was this steady growling that just made everything in me twist all in knots that were really persistent in pointing out that this was something I should be doing a lot more often.

He was licking all the skin in sight, then caught it between his teeth, bearing down, which arched my spine up and hard and he growled even more, hands dropping to my hips and he lifted his head.

"Just follow my lead." And then his mouth was doing all those lovely things to my shoulder and I followed the directions of his hands, and damn that did it all right. Got all those pesky female parts that only a good mirror and some flexibility will ever let you actually see matched up nicely with all those highly visible parts that men have. I heard myself begin to moan and I reached down, grabbing a hold of his ass--hey, remember whose memories I got here? My language use is obvious in that context--and pressed him to me and he groaned something, sliding up to my ear, running his tongue just inside. "Like that, do you?"

Who wouldn't? Our species obviously had a good reason to want to procreate so much. Before I could answer, he lifted his head, looking into my eyes. "You'll like this too."

Then a slow slide down--not far, not enough to stop that nice rhythm we had going on downstairs--and his mouth, very hot, very wet, very, very damned nice--slid down my chest and to one breast. Circled the nipple with his tongue, and yes, he was right, I did like that and decided that possibly this rated right up there with the rocking and didn't want him stop either one. One leg around his thigh secured the former--the latter was achieved by sliding my hand down to his head and anchoring there.

He may have laughed against my skin, but damned if I cared.

It was delicious and all those hot feelings were jumping in intensity and there was a burn in my jeans--too tight, too uncomfortable, and I was getting the impression I could have some fun with less clothing southward. I shifted my hips, not certain how I should achieve it without stopping either of the two activities that were dragging out the damndest sounds from me--and Logan, I've never heard him sound like that before either. Sucked on one nipple--that was it, less in the area of denim we had to have. I reached down, got to my waist, started undoing my jeans--not easy as it sounds with most of that wonderfully hard, flat stomach blocking my access--and Logan caught my hands and pinned them to the bed.

"Just a sec." Damn, he moved down, running his tongue over my bare stomach, biting my waist--mmm, that was definitely nice--then dropped both hands to my jeans, got my underwear at the same time, and pulled both off in an extremely skilled motion that left my feet still in midair. Without missing a beat, he ran both hands over my thighs, sliding my feet to the bed, and pushed my legs apart.

"Relax," he said, and ran his fingers across my stomach, sliding them oh-so-casually between my legs. "This'll be fun."

It was hot and white and utterly beyond belief good and--

"Oh damn Logan," I heard myself moan and shut my eyes tight, trying to breath regularly. Before I could really take that in, I felt his hair brush the inside of my thighs and something warm and wet and hard was sliding over my entire--er, area. Then a finger slid inside of me and my hips almost left the bed. "What--God, don't stop, sugar, please--are you doing?"

"You took health class," he murmured, then slid his tongue over a sensitive spot that dragged a moan out of me and my heels dug into the bed, back arching, which he really seemed to like, and that growl--oh fuck, that was good. "Figure it out."

Well, yeah, I took health class--but lemme tell you, good ole Cyke didn't cover any of this by a long-shot. I twisted underneath him when he brushed it again, sliding a second finger inside of me, just twisting that heat all up more. I started panting, heard myself say some really odd things--"please, sugar, you're wonderful, keep it up, damn that's good, that's sooo good, Logan, don't stop, don't fucking stop"--and since he didn't seem interested in stopping, either because of my encouragement or because he was getting a kick out of seeing me squirm, I left up to interpretation. Behind my lids, everything was white hot and so damned good I felt myself begin to shudder.

And I wanted more--bracing a hand on the bed, I reached down, catching his free hand splayed on my stomach, got his attention. A questioning glance.

"You--you're wearing too many clothes," I finally managed, trying to keep from whining. "Take em off."

"You got it." Logan, by the way, stripped it record time, dropping back on the bed on top of me--good position, I got to do all that rhythmic rubbing that was just--wow. And he kissed me, and the new taste sort of startled me and he drew back.

"That's what I taste like?" I frowned, running my tongue over my lips. He grinned.

"I like it."

That was good to hear. I might wanna request a repeat performance later.

"What's next?" Though I was hoping the whole foreplay business was upgrading--damn, movies just don't show how good this feels. Logan rubbed against me again, kissed me hard enough to bruise my lips and I bit his tongue, feeling that low growl that was doing as much as anything else to make all those inner knots tighten. Without thinking about it, I reached out and snagged a condom from its last known position--okay, so I groped a little, Logan had a point about the whole seeing for trajectory thing--and I slid both arms around him and opened it above his back, tossing the foil. He plucked it from my hand, slid up to his knees, and I got a good look of my fate.

Well, it was interesting. Large, but generally like the movies. No surprises there. And this part I knew--legs open, slide in, we're good to go. But Logan, once the thing was on, simply leaned over and kissed me again, sliding between my legs without any penetration at all, and I began to grind against him, like he showed me, and he growled into my mouth.

"You ready?" he whispered against my lips and I nodded frantically, locking an ankle behind his knee and trying to just force the issue along. "You've never done this--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the drill," I panted. "Just do it, baby."

"That's enthusiasm for ya." And he kissed me again, bracing a hand beside my shoulder, then lifted his head and looked into my eyes.

When he thrust into me--I thought I'd die. All that heat and twisting did a major jump and everything went hot and starry in front of my eyes and I bit down on my lip at the stretch--didn't hurt, but damn, I'm twenty, and about a mile ahead of ready. A soft hand caressed my face and we stared at each other and I could see the strain it was having on him to not move.

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah." Oh /b>fucking yeah, this was good. Better than good. Great. Spectacular. Never been better in my fucking life. Slid a leg around his, pressed him against me, drew his head down for a kiss. "Get to it."

"Good to know I got your support."

A slow slide out, then another thrust that I could almost feel in my throat and I whimpered something, and he did it again. Slowly set up a rhythm that matched very nicely the one used earlier--see how lessons build on each other?--and rocked steadily into me.

All those knots tightened fast--so fast I was having trouble getting a clear breath, could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and locked an arm around his neck while he revisited all that sensitive skin on my throat and shoulders. Oooh, yeah, this was something I could do for the rest of my life.

"Good girl," he murmured against my ear, biting it, then looked in my face again. "That's it, Marie, baby, come on, you're close--"

Close? The building was increasing and my whole body ached with it, all that heat and that tingle like an electric current between us and I stared up at him, grinding up to hear him groan and whisper something against my skin, and everything in me suddenly tightened amazingly--so good and so hot and God, Logan--

"Logan, please, I'm--" I was beginning to shake and my nails anchored themselves in his back. Logan growled, sliding a hand to my face, staring in my eyes, teeth locked. "I'm--"

"Baby, let it happen, come on--you're so close, let me take you there--that's it, honey, you've got it," a breath against my ear and I couldn't look away from him while he held my face in place, watching every reaction he dragged out of me, every moan. "That's it, Marie--" Another convulsive shudder that he echoed and he sped up and everything went bright white when my orgasm hit me out of nowhere, all heat and light and it just took everything. "Yes, Marie!"

"Oh God, yes!" I heard myself scream, and Logan covered my mouth, taking in whatever else I was going to say, and suddenly, he growled--a different growl, deep in his chest, making my whole body react--and he thrust into me once, hard and I felt him finally release.

We lay still for awhile, both breathing shakily, and I wrapped both arms around Logan's back to keep him in place, slicked with sweat. But too damned soon, he rolled off beside me, lifting his head on one hand and giving me a lazy, replete smile.

"Fun?"

I'd say so. Beat homework big time. Rolling on my side, I looked at him.

"Can we do it again?"

He cocked one eyebrow, giving my body a long look, heat flaring in his eyes.

"You won't be able to walk tomorrow."

"You can keep me company, then."

"I can handle that." And a slow, different smile, and he kissed me, dragging me against him. Burying my head against his chest, I smiled to myself, closing my eyes--

--oh fuck, he won. He didn't back down.

"You win," I mumbled, enjoying the feel of his skin against my cheek. I could be pretty comfortable like this for awhile. Maybe a few years--were we really needed as X-Men anytime soon?

"Huh?"

"I called your bluff and you went through with it."

A pause and then fingers slid restlessly through my hair.

"Who said I wanted you to back down?"

I almost sat up, but his hand anchored me in place, and I drew a breath, letting it out slowly. Thinking this through.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

I thought some more.

"Why, then?"

A longer pause, and I was suddenly--suddenly worried, even with that nice afterglow that was still making my bones liquid, and damn, what the hell was I thinkin', askin' him that? But the slow stroking of my hair didn't decrease and there was a long sigh.

"Because I figured I'd waited long enough."

I blinked, readjusted my thinking. Logan half sat up--keeping a grip on me, like I was gonna go runnin' which was tempting except well, I really wanted to try this again, no question--pulled the blankets out from under us, got us both comfortably beneath, then drew me back down, sliding a hand slowly down my bare back. Like a cat, I arched into it.

Then spoke, very softly, very sleepily, and very smugly.

"After all, I didn't wander up here at ten on a Friday night to play chess."

That's when it hit me, and I did get myself up this time, stared down at him.

"You planned it." Looked into his face, didn't read anything contrary to that, plopped back down--on his chest, of course, very comfortable--and decided that all this thinking was just interfering and decided I'd worry about it tomorrow.

"'Specially carrying condoms."

Bastard.

"You just like bein' prepared," I told him rebelliously.

A rumbling laugh.

"Go to sleep. You can twist your head around it later--maybe I'll wake you up and show you a few more things. If you're interested."

More things? That was a damned good offer and I mumbled something, curling down a little more, felt him draw the blanket over me, pulling me closer.

"Maybe we could do this regularly." Because I liked it. It was fun. Really. Only reason.

"I could live with that."

I paused, considered.

"Maybe--not with anyone else. At all." Because that would just be weird, you know? Only reason. Weird.

"Good idea. I'm for that."

Hmmm. And I was getting sleepy and that lovely throbbing in my groin was fading softly, leaving all this contentment behind and the fingers stroking my hair were leading me down a path to comfortable warm darkness. I struggled a little against it--I'm a fan of clarification.

"Anyone else at all."

"Gotcha."

Almost there-couldn't keep my eyes open, and I felt his lips brush my hair, lightly.

"You sure?"

A soft, exasperated sigh, and his hand slid across my cheek.

"Baby, yes. Regularly, no one else, and shit, Marie, you can be dense, you need it spelled out?" A pause, a soft laugh that rumbled through him and opened my eyes wide. "Rest up. You're gonna need it. I'll spell it out when you wake up. Small words. You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

And you know, I could live with that too. Letting my eyes close, I drifted off.

"Okay."