He sat at the front porch of the mansion, smoke of the cigar wafting around him, a tumbler of good whiskey at hand.

It was late enough for the kids to be sleeping, too early to turn in for him, so he took the most out of it.

Weather was warm, this close to summer warm enough to sit outside without a jacket but cool enough to keep all kinds of nasty bugs at bay, so he could just sit and let his mind wander.

However, for a long while he just sat, smoking cigar and sipping whiskey. Then snorted and coughed, nearly spilling the golden liquid.

Sex.

It wasn’t a surprise per say that his mind drifted to that particular subject. He was a man after all, and according to studies that were conducted by his intellectual superiors the average men thought about sex approximately every three minute, so who was he to argue?

No, it wasn’t the thought of sex, but rather the mental image following that thought that made him choke to his booze.

Marie, or Rogue like she expected everybody to call her.

Cradled against him, her whole body limp and lifeless, scent of burnt flesh and death masking her basic vanilla and peppermint.

He placed the tumbler down to the boards of the porch before it fell, then threw away his cigar and rubbed his face tiredly.

Sex and Marie.

He would have been a liar if he had tried to claim that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before. Nights were long and cold, especially if you lived in a boarding school for mutants of all ages. Then, on the other hand, taking care of the brats on daily basis was functioning quite effective damper for the sex drive.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had watched a woman with sex on his mind, let alone actually gotten laid.

Thinking of sex and any of the women inhabiting the school felt somehow wrong. Like he was contemplating on boning his own sister. Thinking of Marie and sex…

He shivered.

Then did some more thinking, reaching for the whiskey and taking a sip, letting it warm up his throat and tongue before swallowing.

Leaned back in the chair, wicker creaking under his weight and closed his eyes.

She was young. Too young? Probably. But one could argue that her appearance was deceiving. On the inside, where it really mattered, she harbored knowledge and experience past her years.

She was vulnerable. A fact, no fiction. Vulnerable and easily influenced. She had a fire burning, but right now it was just a pitiful sparkle, a mere campfire that would in time gain more power and turn to a all-consuming, fiery inferno, but right now… Young and insecure.

She had a killer body, in all sense of the description. Voluptuous curves of a woman, all wrapped up to perfect wrapper of soft, ivory poison. Easy on the eyes, lethal to touch. Of course there were ways around it, but he was pig enough to admit that he never had been in to safe sex. It wasn’t his thing. And women he usually visited were mature enough to take care of things if protection was needed, for one reason or the other.

Right now she would be easy. Almost too easy. Just walk up there and knock on the door. She would open it and welcome him with open arms.

His eyes snapped open. Hadn’t that last line of thought been just a tad bit egotistical and disturbing?
Or hadn’t it been the plain truth?

He realized that his trail of thought was starting to sway from the original, but who was there to complain besides he himself?

After the liberty incident… Hell. Well before that she had been regarding him as her hero and savior. Awkward, but kind of… He didn’t really know what to think about it. Thought of somebody looking up to him awakened all kinds of warm and fuzzy feelings in him. It also brought on a huge pile of responsibilities.

It wasn’t like he had to do it, but he felt like he should at least try to live up to the standards and expectations she thrust upon him.

And was it really a hardship for him to trudge around in tight jeans and T-shirts and act as the personification of badassedness? And was that really a word? He didn’t know. He had heard Marie using it sometimes when she thought that he wasn’t listening and she was describing him to her friends.

“Yep… That’s me. The eternal badass…” He grunted, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He could hear silent footsteps approaching.

She was hesitating, but if he kept real still and quiet…

Closer…

His heart was hammering triple-time.

Closer…

He could only hope that the throbbing of his jugular wouldn’t alert her. Or the huge grin threatening to break loose on his face.

Just few inches more…

Scent of vanilla and peppermint engulfed him, and something warm and soft brushed against his muttonchops, just for a brief second.

That was a kiss.

He had to bite the tip of his tongue to keep himself in check. He couldn’t afford to lose it now.

“Good night, Logan…” A breathy whisper, then footsteps retreating rapidly.

He opened his eyes and blinked few times, his fingers finding the spot on his cheek. He could have sworn that he could still feel the warmth of her lips there.

Rather embarrassing giggle escaped from his lips. Then another before he had the time to choke it with a hefty dose of whiskey.