Me and my girl, we’re pretty tight. Yeah.

We really can’t go out or do many of those things more conventional couples do, but that doesn’t matter.

She’s young. Too young considering all the legalities and stuff. Not even sixteen yet.

Pedophile? Me? Hell, no. I’m not in to little girls. My girl… She’s something else. She’s special. So goddamned precious and special and I’d rather give my left arm, fuck, I’d rather give any of my limbs than see her hurt in any way.

We have been together about a year now. Yeah, the day we met… She says that the first week we knew each other really doesn’t count. Or the two months I spent on the road alone after that week. To me it does count. The day I met her I gave up random fucks, booze and fights.

We haven’t really done anything past holding hands and cuddling up on my bed. Agreed that we’d wait until she was old enough and ready. I’m not in hurry, and this way she gets more time to decide if it’s me she really wants.

Regular saint? Me? Hardly. But it’s not impossible to hang out with drop-dead gorgeous chick if you know what to do with your hands. Jesus. Nearly had a heart attack for a while ago when I watched her doing her math homework. There were some tricky equations, and the way she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger and chewed the tip of her pencil, those moist lips puckering just the right way… Shit. Kept my wrist exercised for the rest of the week. It’s too goddamned easy to imagine her there, those lips on mine, my palms filled with her breasts as she rides me and…

Uh… Sorry. Getting a bit sidetracked here… Shit, these jeans are getting tight… When the hell do I learn not to think about her like that? …Never mind. It would be a bad idea anyway.

So. I guess we already established the fact that she’s a jailbait. Her guardian, now there’s a man of reason. Said that he’s okay with this… Whatever it is that we got going on, as long as we kept it on civil level. No making out in public. No overly jealous reactions from my side if she talks with her male friends.

Yeah. Chuck actually made me promise that. Like I’m some caveman psycho who can’t tell the difference between friendly chatter and bad pick-up lines. Like I don’t trust my girl.

I do.

I trust her. I’d trust her with my life if it ever came to that.

It’s those guys that have to earn my trust every day again and again.

Anyway, back to Chuck’s rules…

If there’s one thing the man is anal about it’s sex. Granted, my girl is young enough to probably be my great granddaughter, but that means exactly jack shit in this equation. What matters to me the most is her opinion.

Chuck keeps drilling the point, reminding me every time we see about her age. How she’s young and vulnerable. How I shouldn’t take advantage of her. For a telepath he sure can be dense.

I talked about it with my girl. We were on my bed and things were getting hot and heavy. I had my hand inside of her shirt and she was trying to unbuckle my belt.

You have no idea how badly I wanted just to keep going, just let it roll until we were both good and satisfied. Nobody would have known even if we had done it. That’s exactly what she said to me when I tried to stop for the first time. “Come on, Logan… Nobody has to know… Just this one time, please…”

Good God. There was I, hands full of tight, sizzling hot virgin who was practically begging me to bed her right then and there. I wouldn’t have been a man if I had stopped right then.

We kept going for a while. I could already smell how wet she was. Then her palm landed on my cock, rubbed me over my jeans and I knew we had to stop.

“It’s so big…” Words that every man would love to hear, right?

Wrong.

She wasn’t in awe. She was so fucking afraid, almost frozen stiff under me. I couldn’t have gotten up from that bed faster even if I knew how to levitate.

Now my girl, she knows that I wouldn’t hurt her. I have told it to her often enough. But right then and there she was afraid of me.

We kind of drifted apart after that. For a while it was strictly business between us. I’m after all her gym coach, so it was kind of mandatory for her to see me twice a week.

She was awfully skittish until during one class I pulled her aside and told her how I felt. How important she was to me. How it was eating me alive to see her scoot away and lurk in corners. And most importantly that I wasn’t mad at her for what happened, that I still loved her.

I do.

I love her.

Thank God we managed to clear up that mess.

No sex is just one of Chuck’s rules. Next one was a bit trickier to obey.

Like I said, I’m her teacher. We live in a school. Expensive boarding school for mutants. We’re both muties, in case you’re wondering…

Every school has its own rules and regulations. Curfew is one of them. After curfew students are supposed to stay in their rooms, no visitors allowed. Brats here break that rule at any given day, not a big surprise. But for us, for me and my girl… No privileges on that particular department. And the reason why I can’t go to her, or why she can’t come over to me after ten pm? See rule number two. No sex.

You’re a sick old pervert, Chuck.

But I got to admit that the man has a point. My girl has this bad habit to wear as little as possible when she’s sleeping. Only time of the day she can truly expose that delicious skin of hers.

That’s part of her mutation. People keep joking about blondes and how they suck. They haven’t seen my girl yet. There’s a chick that can suck the socks off from your feet. Drainer. Her skin absorbs life and memories. It hurts. And if she’ll hold on long enough you’re dead. Trust me. I got some first-hand experience of it. She’s put me down twice, and I’m not the easiest guy to finish off.

Not a big deal. Both times it happened it was to save her life. The life I had put in danger. So she was entitled to it. And I survived. Obviously.

And here’s a good place to start about another rule. For the better part of the time we have been together Chuck has been worried about my influence on her. How much of her affection comes from her, how big part of it is to blame that small part of me that is still lodged in to her mind?

Perfectly reasonable subject to ponder if you have the extra time at hand. Something I kept wondering at first, perhaps too much. She put a stop to that. Told me straight at my face that she was head over heels for me when she saw first glimpse of me in that cage back in Laughlin.

Heh. I guess I do look good without my shirt on. Not that I have looked in the mirror, but who am I to argue with my girl? And it does take some serious muscle to move this fucking carcass of mine, I have metal grafted over my entire skeleton, so…

Yeah.

And back to the topic at hand. Chuck and his rules.

Because of our mutations I can heal my girl. I’m a healer, she’s a drainer. You do the math. Quite a no-brainer if you ask from me. And enter Chuck. Good old Chuck, worried out of his mind that my mind will spoil the poor girl. That I’ll corrupt her for good if I touch her once more.

I got to admit that she has gotten couple of hefty doses of me, and that has left a mark on her. She’s more withdrawn in the crowds. Keeps her own company a lot. And has a pretty stubborn mean streak in her if things don’t go her way. Just a good thing in my opinion, but I can see why Chuck thinks that it’s bad.

So no touching skin on skin unless it’s an emergency.

Truth to be told, I wouldn’t touch her bare skin if it wasn’t a matter of life and death. Call me selfish, but it hurts like a bitch, and contrary to popular beliefs, I’m not suicidal.

Not anymore, anyway.

Yeah. For the most part Chuck has a good point in each and every one of his rules. I guess it looks kind of gross when you think about it. There’s me. Ugly as hell, mean and hard bastard from the road. Then there’s Marie, my girl. Tiny as it gets, she’s all good and pure and innocent, all that shit wrapped in to one, neat, squeaky clean and cute as a kitten package.

My girl. I never tire to those words. Sexist pig? Me?

She’s my girl. Doesn’t mean that I own her. She’s her own girl. But she’s mine to have and hold. Mine to protect. Mine to love.

Mine to lose when the time comes, but I try not to think about that part too much. We still have time. She’s young, and I’m not getting any older. We have time. And as soon as she’s old enough and through with school we’ll hit the road. Just the two of us. No Chuck. No people staring at us and whispering behind our backs. No rules. Just the two of us, open road and all the time in the world.



“Come on, darling… Wake up.”

I’m not crying. Nope. It’s in your head.

“Kid? Wake up.”

Her skin has never been this cold before.

“Marie? Wake up.”

She looks like she’s just sleeping.

“Wake up.

If I close my eyes and try real hard this isn’t happening. If… If I try real hard, none of this is real. There’s no machines beeping around us. No cold and scratchy, impersonal and white bed sheets.

“….Wake up?”

...

“Please?”