Logan revved his bike at the front of the Xavier Institute and waited not-too patiently as the wrought iron gates swung slowly inward. As much as the namby-pamby poshness of the school irked his macho sensibilities he did appreciate the effectiveness of the security system as he practically felt a dozen camera lenses focus on him as he tooled up the long and winding driveway. Couldn’t be too careful with all the mutant hating wackos these days, but still it always raised the hair on the back of his neck to know he was now on a heavily surveilled campus where any of a dozen X-geeks could be watching his bike growl across the gravel driveway…and one special girl, maybe she was watching too.

More likely she’ll be there right when I come in the door all smiles and “Where the hell have you been?” Logan thought with a tight smile crinkling his usually snarly countenance.

Or maybe she wouldn’t be there; she wasn’t expecting him back today. Her birthday was still a week away and normally if he was out on a trek he only showed up the day of. Two years ago he arrived up on a tree limb outside her bedroom with only 5 minutes left to her birthday and tossed her a pack of Xavier-forbidden cigars she likes; she'd leaned to ruffle his hair through her gloves. He’d given her a wink, paused only to say he’d be back in a few months, to which she’d smiled and thanked him for coming back just for her, then he’d slunk back the shadows and evaded the motion sensors and cameras to depart the Institute once more, with no one but Rogue aware he’d been there.

Well this time I’m back for a good long while, an early 21st birthday present I guess. He very much anticipated her first smile when she saw him arrive out of the blue, with no warning, and gunned the bike a little harder across the property, sliding to a stop with a spray of gravel that threw small stones again Summer’s new annoyingly red sports coupe that was parked ostentatiously in front of the main doors. Logan stamped down the kickstand, slung the bike’s saddlebags over his shoulder, and took a slow turn around the shiny Alfa Romeo that just screamed Fearless Leader. “First ding is always the hardest,” he said to no one in particular as he slid out one claw and left a 12 inch scratch across the trunk of the car.

Satisfied he’d greeted Scooter properly now, he turned his face up to the sun, took a deep breath and so many things about Xavier’s he’d tried very hard not to miss came rushing back to him: the smell of the freshly cut lawn, the far-off shouts of teenagers playing on the basketball courts out back, the pops and crackles and shrieks from the training obstacle course in the woods where the older students trained, the sight of Storm’s carefully tended flowerbed. He took another deep breath searching for the scent that always confirmed he was home.

Home he thought. That sandlewood and citrus smell of Rogue’s, that was what he wanted, that was home, and the look of delight on her face when he popped up unexpectedly early. He sniffed again, turned his head from side to side, studying the Institute grounds intently, then marched up the marble stairs to the massive oak front doors and unceremoniously flung them open, one of them banging hard against the paneled wall behind it.

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

“Welcome back, Logan,” Ororo said, her face as tranquil as ever as she descended the grand staircase. “We weren’t expecting you until-“

“Cut the crap Ro. I know she ain’t here. Where is she?” Logan demanded.

“Logan, how do-“Storm’s pale blue eyes widened slightly at the look on his face.

“Logan!” Scott called from the top of the main staircase, “She’s-“

“I know she’s not here! What’s going on?” Logan stalked towards the Fearless Leader and leaned aggressively into his face and the two men automatically fell back into their old ways instantly, each tensing up and squaring off.

It was like their caveman greeting ritual, Ororo observed sardonically.

“Logan, calm down, Rogue said she just wanted to get away for a while and-" Scott’s hand unconsciously went to his visor, fully aware there was an even chance he would need to blast Logan at some point during his stay.

“And you LET her go? Who’s with her?” At the look Scott and Ro traded Logan’s hackles raised up even further. “No one is with her? Are insane? What if the Brotherhood-“

A calm, British voice cut through Logan’s tirade with a force that no one could deny. It resounded both in the hall and in their minds. “That’s enough Logan,” Professor Xavier said as he wheeled into the main foyer. “Come to my office, please.” Logan paused then nodded abruptly, pausing only to SNIKT! the claws on his right hand and point them menacingly at Summers before he followed the Professor down the hall.

As Professor Xavier prepare a cup of hot tea for himself he also drew 2 fingers of single malt whiskey for Logan and placed it in his friend’s hand before wheeling behind the desk and folding his own hands with a patient expression on his face.

“If you’re giving me a drink now, I know I’m not going to like this.” Logan’s brows furrowed down in a hawkish glare as he eyed first the Professor, then the whiskey. He sighed and knew he’d probably need this to deal with whatever the Professor was about to tell him. He tossed down the fiery liquor down with a deep sigh, set the tumbler down firmly, then leaned towards the Professor and said slowly and with not-a-little growl in his voice, “Tell me Chuck, is it Magneto?” He fists clenched on the polished oak desk surface as he waited for the bad news.

“It’s nothing like that Logan. Please, be calm.” He paused, as though weighing how to best phrase something unpleasant. His words came out carefully measure to tamp down the tension he could see rising in his old friend. “Rogue said she had figured out something very important and she needed…some time to absorb it…on her own before she decided what to do…with the rest of her life.”

“The rest of her life…” No, Logan did not like the sound of that at all. “What the hell does that mean? I thought she was going to stay with the X-men, be a teacher, housebreak the next generation of mutant teenagers, all that crap!” His voice was getting louder.

Be here when I came home he thought to himself.

Professor X smiled at his friend, “I’ve never quite heard the import of what we do here summed up quite so succinctly, Logan. ‘All that crap?’” The Professor quirked a sardonic eyebrow at Logan.

“You know I what mean, Chuck” he ground out between clenched jaws. “What is going on with her? Where is she hiding?”

Professor Xavier quickly brought his hand to his mouth and coughed, but it sounded like a stifled laugh to Logan’s ears. “What?!” he snarled, leaning over the desk further towards Charles.

“Logan…you misunderstand the situation. Rogan hasn’t run away. Please.” He gestured to Logan’s abandoned seat and reached over to refill the man’s tumbler with another couple of fingers whiskey.

Logan snatched up the drink and tossed it back just as Professor Xavier leaned back into his chair and said pleasantly. “She went on vacation.”

Logan choked.

“In Florida.”

Eighty dollars a bottle aged whisky spewed across Xavier’s desk, just missing the Professor who had judiciously moved his chair away from it, having expected just this sort of reaction. He wheeled over to Logan and gave the big man several surprisingly hearty thumps on the back as he gasped and spluttered at the burning in his throat the news and the liquor has created.

Logan leaned back in his hair, and rubbed his face with hands hard, as if to scrub away what he’d heard. “Florida? Chuck, what the fuck is going on?”

Logan chomped irritably on his cigar as Xavier’s private jet bumped the runway on its landing in Miami. He could not believe they let her just fritter on some “vacation” without anyone watching her back. Or chaperoning her.

“Logan, she’s 20, almost 21,” Jean had chided him as she watched him unpack his saddlebags only to repack them a minute later with a few pairs of clean jeans and t-shirts to catch his flight. “And we don’t own her. She’s a teacher here, not a slave. If she wants to take some time away and it’s not disrupting school or missions, she’s entitled to same privileges the rest of us have.” Logan only grunted as he wadded previously neatly folded t-shirts into tiny balls and crammed them in his bag.

“Yeh,” he snarled over his shoulder, “Only the rest of your haven’t been hunted down by the Brotherhood like she has. You know she’s a high priority to Magneto!”

“Logan, in case you haven’t noticed, Rogue isn’t a child anymore. She’s a full member of the X-men, fully trained, combat tested many times. She’s professional, efficient, and very cautious about how she uses her power. You know all this.” Jean looked at Logan’s tensed back as he continued to stow items into his bag, then gave it up as a lost cause and turned to walk away.

“But why alone? And to Florida?” he spat as if the very name of the state offended his deepest sensibilities. Jean turned to see him paused in his furious packing, head bent low.

“Maybe there was no one she wanted to take with her.” Jean saw his shoulders stiffen, but she continued, “She didn’t tell anyone, except the Professor. We didn’t know what she was doing until after she was gone. Jubilee and Kitty were actually quite upset, but mostly because they were planning to throw her a big party. Xavier told us that Rogue had come to him late one night a week and half ago and told him it was very important she needed to go away for a little while, just till the end of the month maybe. He said she had had a revelation of some kind. He wasn’t specific. She wanted to be alone and away from everything to deal with it. It sounded serious, but not dangerous. He is not afraid for her, so we are not either.” She paused and put a consoling hand on his shoulder, which he did not shrug off. “But he was concerned, we all were, how you would take it when you returned her for her birthday and found her gone. I can see now we were right to be.”

Logan grunted again and zipped up his bag angrily. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Logan,” Jean said in an exasperated air, “how on earth would she? You send her postcards with no return address and always call from pay phones when you’re off doing” she waved her hand abstractedly through the air, “whatever it is you do when you go away.”

Logan slung his saddlebag back over his shoulder, “Well, now she’s going to have to explain that to me herself.”

“The Professor wouldn’t tell any of us where she went. She asked him not to for this exact reason,” Jean called out the door to his retreating back. “How are you doing to find her?”

“The old-fashioned way…look!” he shouted as he stormed back through the front doors of the mansion and strode out to his bike to make his way to the airport.

Now, gathering his saddlebags from jet, he waved dismissively at the private car that was always on standby at the airport for Xavier’s jet. Even thought the Professor would not tell him where Rogue went, he did not attempt to dissuade Logan from searching for her and told him he could use whatever tools the mansion offered for his quest. Rogue wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job of staying under the radar. She’d flown commercial, COMMERCIAL, to Miami 10 days earlier.

Why on earth would she do that with Chuck’s jet always there? Logan wondered as he told the chauffeur he would not need the frumpy old-man luxury sedan and instead asked if any of the airport rental agencies offered motorcycles. The driver indicated there was one and he would drive him there. Logan slung his dusty bag into the Mercedes with little ceremony and just to spite anyone who cared, lit his cigar as he rode.

And she hates crowds. Something is not right.

She was also using her credit cards, not cash like he’d always taught her to when on the road. God, it was like she was sending out smoke signals to her location to any mutie or FOH bastard who wanted to make quick buck bounty hunting. And right now she was parked in Islamorada, in the Keys of all places. For the last 3 days she’d used her cards on the island for all sort of random shit: outfitters stores, kayaking, diving gear, swim shops.

She doesn’t even like to swim. It’s too dangerous for her and others. This was not the girl he knew.

“Fucking Florida,” he muttered as he tugged off his leather jacket, already smothering under the wilting humidity and heat. Gimme Canada and a glacier anytime. His scorn for the whole mosquito infested swamp of a state was momentarily lifted when the driver stopped in front of a luxury rental service just outside the airport grounds. Logan grinned inwardly as he saw several rows of vintage and custom motorcycles outside the rental office.

Maybe Miami isn’t so bad. Rich kids gotta have their toys.

Still annoyed at Xavier for allowing Rogue to go off without telling him or, better yet, strapping her down in the medbay, Logan charged the rental of a killer 1995 Harley-Davidson 1340 Heritage softail to his institute card. No, he did not plan to pay the Professor back.

He was already sitting on the bike, his bags fasted securely to it, anxious to be underway while the rental rep was still yakking at him about it being a good idea to sign the supplementary insurance agreement for the bike. Logan gave him a glare that would have killed the guy last Tuesday, if the guy had an idea who he was dealing with. Logan scrawled his initials across the agreement, took the man’s monogrammed fancy pen, stuck it in his own jacket pocket, and revved the engine.

“Mr. Logan, your helmet!” The guy held out a god-awful full face contraption that Logan would sooner piss in than put on his head. He laid down some rubber and left the rental dweeb choking on burned tire as he turned out of the lot and headed for the nearest sign that indicated Highway 1 South.

The ride wasn’t so bad, and not nearly long enough to suit Logan. Yeh, it was hot as shit, and there were way too many stoplights on what was allegedly a highway leading out of Miami. This section of Florida wasn’t all rich bitch Gucci Pucci either; Homestead was downright seedy. None of this was sitting well with Logan, not the flight, the charge bills he’d seen, the meandering trip history the cell phone tracking records had shown him, none of it.

For God’s sake, she didn’t even disconnect her phone. Anyone could find her.

Well, he knew where she was now, his own phone programmed to chirp anytime she made a charge on any of her cards. There were several for a place called Lazy Days on Islamorada the last few days. He’d start there and hone in on where exactly she was on the island chain and what the hell she’d been doing.

Despite his concern over everything, the two hour drive from the airport to the Keys wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t great either. He was pretty good at either ignoring or gunning past any Sunday picnic driving assholes and there were some decently long stretches where he was able to let the throttle out and just ride, taking in what scenery there was. Despite all the commercials on TV gushing about how amazing Florida was all he could see were mangroves, scrubby brush, and swamp, mile after godforsaken mile of swamp at some points.

It’s too flat. It ain’t natural. Who the hell wants to live someplace this boring?

Even after he crossed over Lake Surprise and onto Long Key proper he was still less than impressed. The water still looked like the murky shit in the Miami canals, the highway wasn’t wide enough for all the traffic, and was crowded at the edges with motels, souvenir shops, and restaurants all posting giant signs screaming about fresh seafood.

Ugh, fish. Logan shuddered inwardly at the idea and gunned the Harley up double the posted speed limit and onto the paved shoulder to snake past a line of cars there were trapped by some idiot trying to turn left from the right lane. He was still stewing inwardly at being forced to come down here- HERE!- of all places to find Rogue. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him no one was forcing him to do this, in fact all the other X-men had attempted to persuade him not to go after her, to let her live her own life.

Yeh, well, if she took better care her own life, I wouldn’t have to he barked inwardly at that annoying voice. What she didn’t understand is that he had risked, and on more than one occasion offered, his life to save hers from Magneto, Sabertooth, Stryker, the FOH. On and on the list of people who wanted to kill or capture her went.

And here she is fannying around on some stupid island with no backup!

She might be careless with her own safety but he never was, he’d made a promise and even if he was a surly bastard, the Wolverine took his promises very seriously and kept them. She owed it to him to be more cautious, after everything he’d done for her.

Ungrateful he seethed. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts he almost drove right past the Tavernier harbor without even seeing it, and he wasn’t even aware of his actions until the bike was already turning off of the road and into the harbor gravel lot. He stopped the bike as close to the water as he could and looked east at the Atlantic. It was a shades of green and blue he’d never seen and amazingly clear. He could see the fish swim past the barnacled legs of the docks that lead out to the recreational boats some rich bastards kept there. He got off his bike and walked to the edge of the parking lot, scanning an ocean he was not at all familiar with, no craggy cliffs of Maine, no murky brown soup off the coast of New Jersey, no grey clouds ribboned the sky before a storm like off the shores of New Brunswick.

The sky was a bright blue and was so vibrant under the blazing sun it was almost electric. Large seabirds skimmed the breezes, balancing on the air currents with no wing beats. A large boat with a red and white diver flag painted on the side was heading out to sea, into the royal blue of deeper water.

Ok, maybe some parts of this place don’t completely suck. Logan patted his jacket for a cigar, then realized his jacket was strapped to saddlebags. He stretched his arms over his head and decided this wasn’t a half bad place to stop and take a break. Then spotted the most beautiful thing he’d seen so far in this swelteringly hot hellhole. A plain sign next to a whitewashed cabana at the end of the harbor that read ICE COLD CERVASAS.

Logan slapped a ten down and asked for whatever was coldest, then sighed in relief when the deeply tanned man he assumed to be bartender (even though the guy was wearing no shirt, faded cut off jeans, and no shoes) slid a frostbitten Dos Equis into his waiting hand. While it wasn’t Canadian lager it went down real fine with the heat and Logan drained half of it at a go. When he smiled after his long pull he nodded to the man for 2 more. In short order he’d finished his first, popped the top on the other two beers and handed one to the barkeep, such as he was.

“Thanks, I’m Marco” the guy said and titled it in salute to Logan. “To the Conch Republic.”

Logan swallowed and said, “I thought this was the Keys” and for a moment he inwardly panicked at the idea he was nowhere near was he was supposed to be.

Marco laughed heartily, a booming bark that sent some nearby gulls in the parking lot to flight. “Ha ha! This is the Keys, but us Conchers call it the Republic.”

“What the hell is a conker?” Logan’s curiosity was piqued as Marco open two new beers and handed Logan another one without asking for money.

“A conch is the shellfish that used to be so plentiful around he we had us a right good industry, but now it’s protected due to overfishing. The conch to us is like the bald eagle to rest of Americans.” He gestured to a large empty shell at the end of the bar, a heavy looking spiral shell that glimmer pale gold on the outside and curved at the mouth to a succulent pink smoothness that shined in the sun.

So that’s what that is. He’d seen pictures in books of the shell. Nice to know what the hell it was and where it came from.

Marco leaned in conspiratorially and pretended to whisper, “The Keys tried to succeed from the US back in the early 80s because we didn’t want none of the bullshit the mainlanders were sticking on us.” Logan’s eyebrows shot up; he didn’t know anything about any succession since the Civil War. Marco grinned at the puzzled look on Logan’s face and said, “Nothing violent, we just gave a symbolic middle finger to the mainland and started doing things we way we like. Which is with not a lot of hassle. We ain’t even got our own police department. Dade County police gotta come down here if they want someone to boss around. This is a live and let live kinda place, everybody do their own thing and as long as you don’t get in nobody else’s way we are all good.”

Logan nodded and this time clinked his bottle to Marco’s. “This place sounds alright…if it wasn’t for the fucking heat.” He swiped forearms across his face and knew he was dripping with sweat.

“Well what you wearing them jeans for? Easy breezy, that’s the way to survive the sun down here,” and Marco gestured to his own bare legs.

“Let’s just say I don’t do shorts,” Logan snorted, thanked Marco for the beers, slapped a $20 he hadn’t even been asked for down on the bar and turned to go back to his bike.

Shit, almost forgot. “Marco, I’m looking for a girl-“

“Say no more, say no more, I know this bar back up on Long Key-“

“Nah nah, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m looking for a particular girl, she’s…um” He realized he didn’t have a picture of her.

Do I even own one?

“She’s about this tall” and held his hand to about the height of his chin, “brown eyes, really pale, she’s got a white streak-“

“Awww, you mean Marie!! That lady is alright.” Logan’s jaw clenched. He did not like the overly familiar was with which Rogue’s real name dropped from this stranger’s lips. Marco saw the relaxed expression leave Logan’s face and said, “She came I don’t know, about a week ago, got a cold one just like you, and asked me if any of those boats there” he nodded to the lines of pleasure craft at the harbor, “could take her out fishing.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the man. This did not sound like his girl. “Fishing?”

“Yeh, man, yeh.” Marco saw Logan’s frown only deepened and pulled out another beer and slid it across the counter to him. “Said she’d never gone deep sea fishing before, said she was here to try new things she ain’t never done before. Said she had herself a ‘revelation’ and was starting her life over again or something like that.” Marco made air quotes with his fingers. “She was real nice, and not bad to look at let me tell you.” Logan’s hand tightened on the bottle and Marco realized he really should not telling him that at all. “So I asked one of the charter boat captains, my friend Lou, if there was any trips going out and Lou had one the next day, so she went with.”

“And where can I find this Lou?” Logan was already visualizing making hamburger out of the presumably fat, greasy asshole who’d take his Marie out on a boat all alone.

“Right over there! Hey Lou, this guy’s looking for Marie!” Marco shouted. Logan whirled expecting to see some tough looking sucker bowing up on him for a tussle, but instead a very slender, darkly freckled woman with short blonde hair in her 40s stepped off one of the boats nearby and walked over to the bar.

“Hey, I’m Lou, what ya need?” She caught Logan’s hand and gave it a firm shake, and he could feel the calluses on it from working boats. Logan firmly believed you could learn a lot from a person from their hands and their handshake. He liked Lou immediately.

“I’m looking for Marie. She’s a friend of mine. Marco said you took her out fishing?”

“Oh yeh, “ Lou smiled and flipped her sun streaked bangs out her eyes, “Marie went with me and a charter group a few days ago, said she’d never been fishing at all besides some mudhole back home in Louisiana. Wanted to do something new. Said she was on an adventure.”

Ain’t the X-men adventure enough for her? And how do they know her real name?

Lou was still talking. “Oh my, she was real sweet, most of the people who pay me for my boat don’t want to talk to me properly, like I’m just the help. But Marie? She helped me bait and gut the catches. A real solid gal.” Logan’s mind was reeling at this flood of completely unexpected information. “And damn if she didn’t catch a whopper of a tarpon, ” Lou finished with a smile.

“A what?”

“You serious?” Lou scoffed, “Tarpon is serious game fish down here. Not much good for eating but they fight real good, you get your money’s worth on them. Hang on, I got it.” She went back over to her boat, fished around the wheelhouse for a moment and returned with a picture. “See there, that’s the one she caught.”

Logan simply could not understand what he was seeing. The face and hair definitely looked like Marie, but she was not covered neck to toe in layers, wearing her ever-present combat boots. In the photo she was wearing a tank top, some sort of colorful skirt that wrapped around her and rode low on her hips, and bare feet. She wasn’t pale, she was sporting a tan and probably the biggest smile Logan had ever seen her wear. She was pointing to a huge fish that was strung up next to her at the dock and laughing and-

Her arm is around Lou’s shoulder. Her bare arm is around Lou’s bare shoulder. The words fell in Logan’s mind with all the force of an explosion. Revelation. Starting life over. New things.

Logan’s mind was a jumble of wild thoughts as he asked them if knew where she’d gone, and when Marco and Lou both said Marie had just told them she was heading south down the island chain until she got bored, he thanked them with another beer a piece, then walked back to his bike and kicked it to life, his head buzzing with half-formed ideas.

I don’t blame her. She can touch now. Fly commercial, be in crowds, wear what she wants.

But why didn’t she tell me?

He knew why, because he always knew where to find her but she never knew where he was. She was a bright beacon to guide when he tired of running and wanted to come home, to her, but he’d left her in the dark between visits. Now with this new freedom she wanted to get away from everyone and everything familiar and take on life in a completely new way, free from expectations and assumptions from those who knew how deadly her touch was before, do things she’d never been allowed or even physically capable of her entire life.

Like hug someone who was nice to her, like Lou.

She can put her arm around…oh shit.

Logan practically laid down the bike in the gravel in his haste to get back on the highway and make the rest of the short trip to Islamorada. He had to find her before she did something with her newfound freedom from her mutation she would regret.

Lazy Days, there it was, on the ocean side of the highway. She was there, he could smell it, smelled her scent as soon as he rolled into the parking lot. He knew her scent anywhere, even through heat and moisture that seemed to make the air heavy and almost suffocating. He walked up the steps to the restaurant, which was perched on stilts on the shore mere feet from the ocean, and swiveled his head to case the place. Didn’t need much casing, it was 3 in the afternoon, the interior of the restaurant all but deserted on an afternoon in the shoulder season.

A deeply tanned, stout young woman came from behind the bar with a welcoming smile on her face. “Seat inside or out?” Her accent was Cuban.

He knew where she was, the scent wafting from the porch facing the water told him exactly where. “I’ll seat myself, my friend’s waiting.”

“You Miss Marie’s friend?”

The sound of her real name on falling from someone’s lips made him pause, then he nodded, and put a finger to his lips. “She’s not expecting me.”

She smiled wider. “Ok, a secret," and she gave Logan’s arm a conspiratorial pinch. “Miss Marie, she been here a lot, always so nice, no bother at all.” She patted Logan on the arm, “But it is nice she have a friend here now. Not so good for her to be alone so much.” She winked and gestured to the porch. He nodded, gave a quiet “gracias” and moved the door

Can’t hide from me kid.

There she was, to his right about 10 feet away, her back to him. She was wearing an outrigger hat over her auburn and white curls, a white tank top and another colorful wrap skirt. She’d turned her chair away from her table to gaze fully on the turquoise waters and the boats leaving the nearby dock for the light house a couple miles off shore, where tiny divers’ flags were visible bobbing red on the horizon. Her legs, her bare legs, were kicked up on the railing and crossed at the ankle, a pair of scuffed boat shoes idly tipping back and forth as she wagged her feet gently from side to side in time with the Jimmy Buffet song that was playing quietly over Lazy Days system.

Logan was surprised and amused to see a sprinkling of freckles on her tanned legs. He followed the line from her left ankle crossed over the other, up her well-toned calf, seeing where they dipped behind her exposed knee and up until they were covered by the bright green batik pattern of her skirt.

Couldn’t even get a freckle before, all covered up. The things she’s missed.

“What’re you doing here?” she said.

He hadn’t moved or made a sound, but she knew he was there. And she was pleased. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Well, someone took off without telling me where she went and I got a little worried.”

“Yeh, sucks when that happens.” Marie, not Rogue, turned to look at him over her left shoulder. The smile she had there was something he’d never seen from her before. Soft, relaxed, unguarded. There was no hesitation there, no tightening of her lips she always showed whenever someone got too close. It was open, carefree.

Normal. That’s all she wanted. Damn, I shouldn’t be here.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you coming to celebrate my birthday with me?” She waggled her bottle of Corona with lime and pointed it at the ice bucket on her table with beers more sticking out the top.

Ok, maybe I’ll stay for one drink. Besides, she isn’t pissed I came.

“I figured you’d show up,” she said as he slid into the seat opposite her and turned it to face the water too, kicking his boot heels up on the rail just as she’d done.

Reaching over to crack the top off his beer and pluck a slice of lime from a plate, he said, “Well you didn’t exactly make it very hard to find you. Cell phone, credit cards, commercial flight. Thought I taught you how to go on the run properly.”

She titled her head back and closed her eyes. “Ah, but Logan I wasn’t running. I’m not hiding. I’m just free.”

He nodded over at her, a smile of his own crinkling his face. “I can see that,” and waved his bottle in the general direction of her bare legs.

She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him for a moment before raising her beer again. Swallowing, she sighed and said, “I learned to control it, fully. On and off, like a switch. In the shower of all places. Oh Logan, you don’t know how this feels.”

He nodded somberly and raised his bottle to hers, toasting her accomplishment. “No I don’t kid, but I’m fucking happy you do.” He’d ask her for details later, right now it seemed like an excellent idea to sit here, have a beer, and let her talk if she wanted or not.

She did, very much. She pulled her legs from the railing and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around herself and said, “All the things I never knew I was missing, I have them now. All the stuff you and everyone else take for granted I have it now, it’s like I finally started LIVING.” Her eyes were almost glazed with excitement. “Tank tops!” she exclaimed!

“What?” He was expecting her to talk about touching other people, letting them touch her, not being afraid…definitely not her outfit.

“Tank tops!” said again. “See?” She gestured. “No sleeves, no scarves, not hoods, and no gloves.” She thrummed her bare fingers on the table. “Of all the things I thought I would love if I could touch I never knew tank tops would be my favorite.” She shimmied in her seat, holding arms out wide and staring at them like she’d never seen them before,. He watched as the shadows of the slatted ceiling let light pool and darken over her bare skin.

He had to laugh. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t even thought about tank tops, shorts, skirts, bare feet in the sand. Being a man he’d thought about the one thing all guys would think.

If I couldn’t touch another human being my whole life and suddenly I could what would I want to do first?

Get laid.

“Exactly!” she said. Logan started, had he said that out loud? “No one ever got it, not even you, what it was really like for me. Everyone was all ‘poor Rogue she can’t touch, she can’t get a kiss, she’ll never have babies’. Whatever to all that! I’m just so happy to wear weather appropriate clothing I can hardly stand it.” She laughed and plucked at her shirt again.

Grinning at her exuberance, Logan said, “Well kid, here's to tank tops. And bare feet.” With that he reached down and took off his heavy boots. They didn’t seem right in this situation.

“And bikinis!” she crowed and turned back to the water, tossing her feet up once again on the railing.

Bikinis.

Bikins.

Bikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinisbikinis

The word ran together until it was a loud buzz in his head. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“Sooooo,” he drawled, trying not to sound too interested in her reply, “got any yet?”

“Oh god yes, about a dozen. See?” And god almighty if she didn’t lift up her shirt and show him an eye-popping confection made up only of string and triangles of green shiny fabric dotted with white polka dots.

Holy shit.

He’d know for a long time Marie wasn’t a kid, but until he saw THAT he’d hadn’t been fully cognizant that he growing up also meant she’d really grown into a woman. With curves. Lots of them.

The valley between her breasts was lightly sheened with perspiration, and for a second an image flashed through Logan’s mind of what it would feel like to lick the sweat from her flesh. He could practically see his tongue gliding up the valley and across the top of one of those perfect swells, his teeth nipping at the seams of one of those tauntingly small triangles.

She laughed at the expression on his face. “Try not to have a heart attack there, old man. You’ve seen less than this on women, I know it,” and, disappointingly, she dropped her shirt back into place, tapped her finger to his head to remind him of the little Wolverine that lurked in the back of her memories, and popped the top off another beer.

Yeh, I’ve seen less than that on a woman before, but never you. Damn!

Logan coughed hard, settled was he felt was a noncommittal look on his face, and said, “It looks alright on you kid.”

“Thanks.” She signed and tilted her head back again on her chair, pushing the brim of her hat forward until it covered her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this all my life, and its better than I thought.” She paused and he waited. He didn’t have to for long. It seemed as thought she wanted to explain it all to him.

“I wanted to be away from the mansion, not have people react the way they would: happy, excited, confused, worried. I just wanted to go somewhere where I could be a regular person just like everyone else. I just wanted to feel what it was like for it to not be a big deal to other people for a while…because when I go back I know it will be a BIG DEAL.” She sketched air quotes with her fingers.

“I hear ya. You just wanted to be a normal person for the first time in your life. Don’t blame you a bit.” Took a swig from his bear and pulled the lime in the neck out and popped it in his mouth, crunching down on the bitter rind. “You couldn’t left a note or something though, everyone’s a little confused why you left they way you did, but they’re ok with it.” He tipped his bottle up once more, noticed it was empty and reach for another one from the ice bucket.

I could get used to this. It ain't’ Canada, but it’s ok.

“Although Jubilee and Kitty are pissed they can’t take you out and get your drunk for the first time.” She shifted her head so she could see him, and she winked at him. “Legally anyways,” he finished. They’d had a few benders between the 2 of them when he should’ve gotten shit-canned for letting a student drink, but that was a while back.

“Yeh well, they’ll get over it. This is the perfect birthday. Look around us.”

And he did. It was a damn nice little spot she’d found, the small white sand beach in front of the porch bounced the sun’s rays back up, the old coral and rocks at the edge separated the beach from the boats moored nearby, a stone jetty crawled out into the sea to allow passage into the small harbor where the diving boats moored. Someone had left a big anchor on the sand, maybe a prop, maybe it was from a real wreck, he didn’t care, it fit right there just exactly. The palm trees waved over their heads and a cool breeze flowed under the covered porch and teased the heat from his skin and cooled the sweat on the back of his neck.

“Yeh,” he sighed, and put his head back like her and looked over at her. “This is way better than a bunch of people at the mansion flipping out over your control and then being forced to pick you girls up from a bar in town at 3am after celebrating.”

She smiled softly again and closed her eyes. “I thought everything I could possibly want was here…right here…right now, at this exact moment, this one perfect moment. And I was so happy. I’ve found that peace I’ve been wanting a long time, Logan. I thought it was perfect. Then you showed up.”

He sat up, wondering if he’d misread her easy tone, that he had interrupted her and now he needed to leave.

Her hand rested on his forearm. He looked at it, completely caught off guard. He knew she could touch. He just hadn’t felt it until now. It wasn’t a theory or an abstract anymore; it was real. Her hand, very small but strong, laid on his forearm and she gently squeezed it, then relaxed and let it drape there.

She just did it, just reached right over, with her eyes still closed and a smile ghosting her lips, and laid her bare hand on him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Now it is perfect. Thanks for coming Logan. I’d hoped you would.” He sank back in his chair and closed his eyes, aware only of the sound of the water lapping at the beach, the breeze playing over them both, her hand lying on his skin, and the steady and slow tick of her pulse through her palm.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, until after the sun had gone down, rocking back and forth in their chairs, occasionally switching the position of the feet against the railing, popping beers that almost magically appeared, courtesy of Rose behind the bar, when the ice bucket ran low. Sometime they were quiet for long periods, just watching the boats and pelicans. Sometimes they talked about nothing important…just everyday things. What she’d experienced for the first time: flying commercial, fishing, swimming in the ocean, snorkeling, the mild burn she received her first day until she learned to use sunscreen, shopping for new clothes, getting her nails professionally done.

Everyday things, just like normal people. Not X-men, not mutants. Just a guy and a gal, kicking back.

When the dinner crowd started to come in, she sat up stretched. “Much as it’s easier to be around people now, I’m still not a fan of crowds.” She stood up, grabbed her purse from the floor and grinned at him. “While flying on something other than the Blackbird or Xavier’s jet was a new experience, I’ve got to admit I’m not doing that again if I can help it.” She waved her hand in front of her face as though the remembered smell of almost 200 hundred bodies tightly packed in the hermetically sealed plane still haunted her.

Logan put his boots back on and surveyed the ever filling restaurant. After such a pleasant afternoon he was not particularly keen to have the day end so soon. “You hungry?”

“Not really, but I do want to freshen up. Lord, you have to take showers 3 times a day down here, it’s damn hot,” Marie said as she flapped her skirt playfully with her hands, showing Logan flashes of tanned thighs.

“You’re not kidding, I could definitely use one myself.” Logan wasn’t necessarily conscientious of his hygiene, as he was a man who’d had rough it often and on many levels, but this heat was something he really wasn’t prepared for, nor was the fascinating planes of Marie’s exposed skin. A shower was definitely in order, very cold.

He followed her to the parking lot, intent on following her back to wherever she was staying, not only to continue the evening but also to make sure she wasn’t doing something completely reckless like camping. It wasn’t the Brotherhood he was worried about ambushing her through a flimsy wall of nylon, but the prospect of hunkering down in the malarial night air, that made him a bit nervous. No way was he going to not stick around and watch over her now that he’d spent so much energy getting down here. And it would nice to hang out with Marie one-on-one with her being in such a good mood.

Next thing, I’ll be considering scuba diving myself he smirked, knowing that any attempt to go in the ocean would result only in him sinking like a stone, weighed down as he was with over 200 extra lbs. of adamantium.

“Where’re you staying? Please tell me it has A/C,” he asked as he slung his leg over his motorcycle. Marie grabbed a small bag from the jeep she had apparently rented and climbed up behind him on the bike unexpectedly. It took him a moment to quell the shiver that ran through him as he felt her bare arms encircle his waist as she snugged herself again him in preparation for the ride.


Logan kicked the bike to life, goosed the gas a little more than strictly necessary just to make the engine throb. He was definitely enjoying the feeling of Marie’s chest, covered only in that top and tantalizing scraps of cloth she called a bathing suit, pressed against his t-shirt. He revved the engine again and she whooped with laughter, shaking delightfully against him.

“I’m out there.” Unwrapping one arm from his waist, she gestured. He took a moment to slide his eyes down the length of her arm, noting the soft appearance of the crook of her elbow, then down to her tapered fingernail pointing to a long, narrow spit of land covered in palm trees, that were placed a little too perfectly to natural, that jutted out into the ocean about 300 yards down the beach. At the very end stood a massive white house, perched at the end of the single peninsula and surrounded on three sides by shimmering water. It was practically its own island over a quarter mile off shore.

“That place? You’ve sold a lot more Girl Scout Cookies than I thought to swing something like that,” he shouted over the bike’s engine.

Marie leaned forward and spoke almost directly into his ear to avoid yelling, “It’s Warren’s.”

Logan’s stomach dropped a few inches inside him. “Worthington? Is he here?” He did not like the idea of her staying with Angel. He was exactly the type of guy Logan suspected a girl who can suddenly touch would want to touch first: good looking and disgustingly rich. That guy was too loaded to be actually as genuine as he seemed. Logan secretly suspected Angel to be a manwhore hiding in a choirboy’s appearance. Of course, in Logan’s estimation any man that took interest in his Marie was a creep. He had never liked the way Warren looked at Marie during his visits to the Institute. As if she was something to be added to his collection, like a painting or a new sports car.

Rogue chuckled in his ear, a sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Of course not, that would defeat the whole point of coming here. He owed me a favor and let me borrow it.” She slipped her arm back around Logan’s waist, squeezing gently. “Hardly a favor, since he has about 20 houses anyway.”

Logan nudged the throttle to take them back to the highway and down to the turnoff to Worthington’s private drive. Once clear of other traffic, he suddenly hit the gas and raced down the long slash of land towards the house, a quick but exhilarating trip made more enjoyable by Rogue clenching her hands into his white t-shirt and throwing her head back to laugh madly as the palm trees that raced over their heads.

Stopping the bike, Logan looked the place over and a whistled at the sheer swankiness of the Worthington “beach house.” Beach mansion was more like it. Three stories, glowing in the light of the rising moon, and so pristine Logan almost felt embarrassed to enter the foyer, as grungy as he was.

“It’s a bit much,” Marie admitted, smiling slyly at him as his head swiveled back and forth from the crystal chandeliers to the 2 story tall windows that overlooked the ocean from various angels.

“Yeh,” he mused, rubbing a hand absently along his jaw line, “It sucks.” He grinned at her then said, “Ok, before I sprain my neck looking around, maybe you can show me where I can throw my shit and take a shower.” He knew, and so did she, it was a forgone conclusion that now that he’d found her he wasn’t going to just leave her there alone. If she’d put up a fuss about it, he would’ve barged in anyways. She didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“Oh god, you have got to see the bedrooms,” Marie said, her eyes twinkling in excitement, “you will not believe them.” As casual as could be, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the stairs. Logan immediately interlaced his fingers with hers, allowing her to pull him upstairs.

“Your room, sir.” With a grand gesture as she flung open two double door to a room made almost entirely of glass, the walls nothing but a giant windows facing the ocean on every side. In the middle, an impossibly large wrought iron bed covered in white linens. He rubbed one of the sheets between two fingers and was simultaneously impressed and annoyed at the lightness and quality of the material.

Angel definitely has too much money.

Logan had to admit that while he could rough it even on the hard ground in the woods, and had on many occasions, even he was a sucker for a nice bed…and it made his feel like a bit of a pansy. Still, it looked awfully inviting. Logan started to sit on the bed, ready to flop back and take a nap after a day of travel and unexpected surprises.

Marie’s shriek made him bolt upright. She shot an accusing finger at him, “Do not even THINK about sitting on that. You’re filthy!” She walked over door on the other side of the room and poked her head inside, “Wow, I haven’t even seen this bathroom yet. I’m almost jealous.”

Logan stood up from the half crouched position her shout has frozen him in and joined her at the door. “It’s okay,” he grunted at the sight of a empty full length Jacuzzi bathtub next to a large steam shower with apparently enough sprayers to put out the Great Chicago Fire.

“Niiiiice,” Rogue said approvingly, walking over to the shower. She opened the door and looked inside. Pointing at an array of buttons in the wall, she said “I think you’ll need an instruction manual to operate it.”

“I’ll live, as long as one of those buttons doesn’t douse me with that cologne Angel soaks himself in.” Marie laughed and turned to go. Logan toed off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head. Logan leaned into the shower and randomly punched buttons to hopefully crank the thing to something useful, finally turning on the overhead spray, and a few others in the walls. Satisfied the overly-complex plumbing was working he raised his arms over his head, flexing his arms and shoulders, stretching as hard as he could in anticipation of a long hot shower. He dropped his jeans and kicked them to where his shirt lay and stepped in.

Oh god. That feels good.

Water pounded him from several directions, hitting his thighs which were stiff from the ride and the spot in his lower back that always hurt, no matter what. He sighed and leaned into the spray, letting it thrum into him. He rested his head against the cool tile and rethought over everything that day. Especially Marie’s legs. Those long tanned legs, and those inviting lines of freckles that traced over her calf, behind her knee, and disappeared under her skirt. He wondered if she had freckles elsewhere, and his imagination took over: a light sprinkling on her breasts, another on her shoulder that arced over and down her back. He pictured himself kissing every single one, savoring that long hidden skin, showing her the difference between a touch and a TOUCH.

Logan ran the soap across the back of his neck and massaged it in, then smoothed his hands across his shoulders, wrapping fingers around and over cords of muscles that twisted down to his forearms. His hand made hard circles on his forearms where the flesh was the most strained by his claws. He soaped his hands vigorously then worked them over the hard planes, working out the kinks that always built up from consciously holding back the claws all day. He groaned when he hit that exact sore spot in between the radius and ulna that ached the most, but when he worked it for a few minutes the knot came loose. He sighed in relief and popped his claws then retracted them, which felt a lot better now than it would have a few minutes ago. He turned on the steam function to take care of the last of the aches, then returned to soaping his chest, resting against the far wall and a particularly strong jet that pulsed against the small of his back.

It wasn’t hard to imagine it was Marie’s hand on his chest, not with the images of her breasts in that tight bikini filling his mind, the remembered feel of her hand soft and gentle on his arm, her scent still lightly tracing the air from her short walk through the bathroom. Latching onto her smell, Logan could almost believe she was there, touching him. He closed his eyes and let the hot water fall over him, visualizing that it was Marie’s tongue that was now tracing an arc down his cheek, past his jaw line, pausing for a moment to dip into his collarbone before continuing its downward journey past his chest to his waist. Her scent was almost a taste he could savor in his mouth and Logan couldn’t hold back any longer and gripped himself in his fist. The soap was a natural lubricant as he stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing at the base and releasing at the head, then harder as he thought of those freckles behind her knee, the ones he imagined circle her navel. Her scent on the superheated and saturated air turned him on intensely.

God Marie, you smell so good he thought, and furiously upped his tempo, turning into the sprayer, letting the pulsing water pound his abs and pelvis as he pistoned his shaft in his hand. He leaned the other hand against the wall, holding himself up with one forearm as he jacked harder, squeezing almost to the point where the pleasure became pain and he felt his balls tighten against his groin. Logan panted at the mental picture of running his hands along that trace of freckles up both of Marie’s thighs to her sex while her hand closed on his cock and worked it with those powerful but small hands. Along with that thought was the fantasy that she was touching herself in her own shower and it finished him off. With a groan that was more of a growl torn from his chest Logan came hard in two hard spurts that shot on the wall and floor, his cock jerking in his hand. He moaned in satisfaction as he spasmed hard, twice, in his fist. He jerked on more time and another shudder ran through his frame, causing the muscles in his abdomen to clench hard with pleasure, then relaxation poured through him, spreading from his now relaxed cock and radiating outward to every muscle in his body all the way to top of his head. Almost dizzy from the strength of his ejaculation Logan and leaned forward and rested his forehead against the tiled wall, breathing hard, took his hand off himself and bashed it into the control panel, miraculously turning off all the jets but the overhead.

Slowing his rapid breath, he let the water pool over the back of his neck and down his body. He finished lathering up and washing off, more relaxed than he’d been in a long time, and he started to whistle as he rinsed the last of the suds from his frame. Marie’s scent had drifted away. Walking naked back into the bedroom he grabbed another pair of jeans and threw them on. He thought momentarily about putting on his shirt but then decided not to. If she was going to flit around in a tank top, he was going to fuck the shirt altogether. Bare footed, he walked down the hall and called Marie’s name. No answer, he sniffed the air and followed her fading scent down to the hall to what was surely her room. He listened at the door and, hearing nothing, slowly opened it and poked his head in. The sound of a water running from behind a closed door a few feet away told him she was enjoying whatever passed for a shower in her own bathroom. Again the image of her with tendrils of water pouring through her hair and over her breasts flooded his mind. He shook the thought away, chiding himself for a dirty old man, and went to find the kitchen.

By the time Marie came down Logan had already plundered the depths of the sub zero fridge and pantry and had steaks and potatoes cooking on the industrial steel monstrosity that he’d discovered was a 12 burner gas grill on the deck next to the kitchen. A beer in one hand and a fork to jab the meat with in the other, a flashy infinity pool behind him and the moon over the ocean.

Not so bad, still too fucking hot.

It got much better when Marie padded bare foot onto the deck in a Maple Leaves t-shirt and a ridiculously short pair of gym shorts. He was momentarily fascinated by the curve of the back of her thighs and the discovery or more delicious freckles as she leaned over the grill to inspect his handiwork.

“I doubt Warren has ever even used this thing,” she commented, then leaned away to smile at him.

“I seriously doubt he even knows he has it. Maybe the help fire it up when Master’s in town.”

“Logan, you really need to drop that sneer in your voice whenever you talk about Warren. He’s not a bad guy just because he’d loaded.” She walked away to sit at the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water.

“I know he’s not. I just think all this money’s made him soft. He doesn’t know what it’s like out in the real world.” He grunted, flipping the steaks onto a plate to let them finish cooking. The potatoes would need a few more minutes, so he closed the lid and went to sit next to her. Rolling up his jeans a few inches he dropped his feet into the pool also.

“Hmm, the real world," she mused. "A place like this is to escape the real world.” Marie turned to Logan, a serious expression on her face. “It’s why I came here.” She sighed a little sadly and twirled her feet idly in the water. He watched as ripples formed around her slim ankles. “We don’t exactly live in the real world either. We’re lucky to have Xavier, the school, the resources. He’s rich too, y’know.” She nudged Logan in the ribs with her elbow.

“Yeh, Chuck’s not soft that’s for sure. We don’t exactly live in the suburbs and drive mini-vans, do we? We live with people who are like us, not like the rest of them,” and he gestured to the ocean, indicating the whole wide world. “Other mutants have to hide everyday in the real world, surrounded by people who could and would hurt them if they knew what they really were.”

“I hid every day in the mansion.” She said it so quietly, he almost missed it. “Every day, I hid under layers of clothes, hid from everyone, even my friends, scared I would accidentally hurt them, and hurt myself by stealing something of theirs I wasn’t meant to have.”

He nudged her with his shoulder, “Kid… you know you never had to hide with me.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, stirring the still water with her feet, watching the reflections of the moving water gyrate slowly through the patio lights. “I never did, Logan. Only with you did I ever feel like myself.” She turned her head and rested her chin on his shoulder and spoke into his cheek, “I think I’m afraid of letting anyone else get that close now that I can touch. I don’t want to lose this special friendship we have to a crowd.”

He turned his head a fraction of an inch so he could look into her eyes. Her lips were so close, if he leaned down just a bit he could’ve kissed her. He wanted to, but that word “friendship” hung over his head like a sword. He was her friend and she was his. As desirable as she was, he was her friend first and foremost and would have to remain that way. Besides, he wasn’t the right sort of man to be with her, too old, too crazy in the head, too mean.

“You won’t kid, you can count on that.”

“Promise?” Her lips arced in a slight smile and he saw a flash in her eyes of merriment.

“I promise.” He pressed a swift kiss to her forehead. “I think the potatoes are ready.”

He stood up and held out a hand to pull her with him. No matter how casually she did it, he definitely got a jolt whenever her bare hand touch his skin. A good jolt that he felt in the pit of his stomach, not the kind she used to leave him with that resulted in a 3 day stay in the medbay.

Despite Logan’s insistence that potatoes and steak was perfectly balanced meal, Marie insisted on making a salad, or what he called “rabbit food.” He followed her back to the kitchen as she pulled a dizzying array of colorful vegetables from the fridge and set about washing the lettuce. He sat on the counter and watched her as she stood over the sink rinsing the leaves under the spigot. He was enjoying the view immensely, the way she swayed her hips in time with the country song playing on the satellite radio over the sink. The flex and release of muscles under her calves as she shifted her weight. The adorable curve of her tush peeking at him from under her shorts. His eyes lingered on back of one knee, memorizing every freckle there.

Suddenly seized with a wicked idea, he grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and popped it, nailing her right on the ass. Marie shrieked and jumped, dropping the head of lettuce into the sink. “Logan!” she chastised.

“Consider it one more thing you’ve just done for the first time. I doubt anyone chased you around the locker room at the mansion popping you with a towel.” He grinned rakishly at her, canines flashing.

The sink sprayer appeared in her hand and he held up his in mock surrender. “And I haven’t done this before either.” She shot him in the face with a surprisingly powerful jet of water. Shaking his head like a shaggy dog, he leapt off the counter and popped the towel at her again, this time nailing her on the inside of her right thigh. Marie shrieked and tried to spray him again, but he darted to the side just in time, giving her a resounding crack to her shin this time. Marie threw the head of lettuce at him and took off at a sprint when he impaled it on his claws. Screaming with laughter she ran around the giant living room as he chased her, popping her with the now wet towel. He let her run for a minute, then jumped over the sofa and pounced on her, knocking into a pile of pillows by the fireplace, where she collapsed in giggles.

“Ready to give up?” He stood over her, towel aimed and ready to fire at the exposed expanse of flesh from where her shirt had ridden up. “Say uncle!”

“Never” she gasped from her prone position.

“Alright, you asked for it.” But instead of snapping her with the towel he swiftly bent down and dug his fingers into her side. “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” she shrilled. Apparently Marie was damn ticklish. He hadn’t known that before and maybe she hadn’t either. “Say uncle!” he demanded. Tears streaming from her eyes, she batted in effectually at him kneeling over her as she simultaneously tried to protect her stomach from his grip.

“Uncle! Uncle! Oh god, uncle!” she screamed with laugher.

Satisfied he’d won the battle he gave one last good dig into her ribs before he stood up and walked back to the kitchen. Panting, hair disheveled into a cute mess, Rogue padded after him and said, “Just for that, you can chop the vegetables.” Which he did in less than one minute, thanks to 54 inches of adamantium.

After a dinner Marie conjured from the ceiling of the living room, with a remote control so complex Logan was sure it was used to launch spacecraft, the biggest high-def television he'd had ever seen. When she flipped to the pre-show for the Stanley Cup semi-finals on the satellite TV he announced he was moving in and Warren was just going to have to gesuck it up.

“It’s like you’re at the game, shit, look at that,” he gestured to the screen, almost knocking over Rogue’s beer.

“I think you’re the one who’s gone soft,” she responded as she rescued her drink from its perilous position at the edge of the table. He hushed her as the announcer starting calling out the starters. Once they were settled in for the face-off brought with a giant bowl of popcorn and cold Canadian Lagers it was officially hockey night. And no Scott around to tell them to quit swearing in front of the students or students bitching about them hogging the rec room TV. So they cursed and cheered and second guessed both coaches’ plays to their hearts’ content. Once the Maple Leaves has soundly won the first of seven 4-1, Marie did a victory dance on the sofa, bouncing back and forth over Logan’s legs, mangling the Canadian national anthem.

Then it was time for a movie, because Friday was always movie night for them. Marie pulled up the On Demand and demonstrated to Logan that DVDs were now as obsolete as the dinosaurs. He wasn’t impressed and pointed out if you ever wanted to watch it more than once you had to pay for it again, like Terminator, which they’d both seen about 20 times. She countered that he wouldn’t have his closet crammed with discs falling all over of the place and missing their boxes. He asked what she was doing in his closet. She reminded him that she was the one who did his laundry most of the time since he didn’t bother until his pants walked themselves across the floor and threw themselves into the hamper.

“We sound like an old married couple, Christ,” he sulked at her jibe.

“If we do, then that means I get to pick the movie since we just watched sports.” Logan groaned into his hand and silently hoped she wouldn’t pick a stupid romantic comedy. Much to his relief, his girl did not disappoint him and settled on an action movie called “Taken” about some retired government operative whose daughter was sold into slavery overseas and the dad went on a European tour of bone breaking and mayhem.

Logan could relate to how the guy felt, even though Marie wasn’t his daughter (thank god), he’d break any damn law and disembowel any fucker stupid enough to get in his way if she was ever in danger. He looked down at her head, which had been resting on his right thigh since the opening credits, and his hand, which was absent-mindedly playing with her hair. Normally he wore gloves just to make her feel better, and he wasn’t this time, didn’t have to.

Keeping an eye on her face, her eyes were glued to a daring car chase, Logan slid his fingers deeper into her silky hair and massaged her scalp. Marie’s eyes closed briefly then she murmured, “Mmmm.” Then she went back to watching the movie.

Logan kept that up for a few minutes, looking back and forth from the movie in front of him and the small slice of her face he could see. She seemed completely unconcerned by his touch, so he moved his hand down from the top of her head and slowly over, still stroking, until he was at the back of her neck. He gently kneaded the small V of muscles that ran from the base of her slender neck to her hairline, and splayed his fingers to sweep the incredibly soft flesh on each side. She shifted a bit closer to him, turning her head slightly to expose more of her neck to his ministrations.

After a few minutes, Logan saw she was once again engrossed in the movie, he stopped massaging and just started to lightly sweep his fingers back and forth over small areas of that white column, feeling goose bumps rise, then fall, then reappear. By the time the movie ended and the credits rolled, Logan felt he knew Marie’s neck as intimately as he knew the back of his own hand. She appeared to be sleeping now, her eyes closed and her breath coming slow and steady.

He made a gentle movement to slide out from under her in preparation for carrying her off to her bedroom to tuck her in, when she said, “Don’t move.” He froze as she stretched and yawned then rolled over to look up at him. “Mmmmmm, that felt good.” Her voice was rough with sleep, making it lower and incredibly sexy.

Instantly he felt a stirring in his groin, too close to her head for his comfort. To distract her, he said, “Thank kid. Y’know I’m the best there is at-“

“Stop-“ she held up a hand, waving off the rest of his words as his usual bad joke. “That was really nice, I never felt anything like that before. I couldn’t.” Her soft smile and half-lidded eyes were making his head swim.

“Yeh, well, “ Logan cleared his throat, “There plenty of time for you to learn about all the stuff that…uh…feels good.” He coughed, slammed down the rest of his beer and prayed she wouldn’t notice the raging hard-on that was only inches from her face.

She stretched again, a back popping cat stretch across his legs the brought her arms up over her head. Her back arched and forced her perfect breasts against her t-shirt as she flexed all the way down to her delicately pointed toes. Logan thought he’d never seen anything as erotic in his entire life. “Mmmmmmmm,” she moaned through the stretch, “can’t wait.” Then she sat up and hopped off the sofa. “Nite Logan,” she said softly as she grabbed the empty popcorn bowl and headed to the kitchen.

He sat there transfixed to the spot, partially from shock at how Marie had practically writhed on his lap and partly because he was unsure it would be physically possible to stand and walk with what felt like a lead pipe between his legs. He listened to her putter in the kitchen for a minute while he valiantly tried to wish away his erection. When he heard her footsteps on the stairs and finally heard her bedroom door close, he breathed a sigh of relief, popped the fly on his jeans and gave the old boy some room. Logan steadfastly refused to allow himself a quick jerk; it just felt too pervy at the moment.

She is my friend, FRIEND, damnit. She needs me as a FRIEND. She doesn’t want to lose our FRIENDship. For god’s sake go down, roll over, play dead, anything.

After about 10 minutes Logan finally felt enough tension leave his body to allow him a graceful exit. He walked down the hall, pausing only momentarily to listen at Marie’s door, sounded like she was in the bathroom again, before he went to his room. He wished he could lock himself in because the idea of sneaking into Marie’s room right now seized his mind in a stranglehold.

A low voice in his mind muttered Go on, show her how good it can feel…before she decides to find someone else to show her.

The idea of Marie kissing another man, letting another pair of hands explore her body, tracing those freckles, god it made Logan almost sick to his stomach. And it would probably be some jackass like that Gambit who’d been sniffing around her, someone who would just use her and drop her, someone who didn’t realize what a incredible woman they had in their arms, someone who would treat her like just a hot body. Someone who would, more likely than not, hurt her.

I’d hurt her, I’m crazy, I’d run off, I’d fuck it up. I’d hurt her.

How do you know if you don’t try?

How about I not and just say I did.

Fucking coward, don’t let someone else take our mate. She young, fertile, ready.

She’s more than just hot, you asshole. She’s smart, and brave, and sweet, and she makes me feel like a better person.

See…we both want her. She’s OURS.

What if she doesn’t want us?

She’s OURS.

On and on went the argument in his head, long after he’d hoped to fall asleep. Despite the comfort of the bed, the quality of the sheets and the impressive view of the ocean on every side, Logan could not relax enough to shut his mind off. He tossed and turned until the bedding was a wadded mess and he was sweating even in the air conditioned room. It felt like torture, his need for her, the knowledge that she was just feet away and he could touch her in the all the ways he dreamed about.

It all battled against her words to him, her fear, her need for his friendship, his promise to protect her. He groaned in frustration, grinding a pillow over his face to smother the sound.

“Logan?”

He yanked the pillow away from his face. Marie was standing in his doorway, one hand on the frame, another to her mouth. Her figure was draped in a white shift that looked to be made of silk, the light from the moon falling on her, the silhouette of her curves standing in marked relief to the darkness behind her. She seemed to almost glow in the bluish light.

“Did you have a nightmare, Logan?”

He dragged his eyes away the mesmerizing play of light and shadow on her skin to her face. Her eyes were soft, not concerned or frightened.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly.

“Me neither.” She took a step into the room, her hand falling from her mouth and he saw her lips, fresh and full, slightly shining when she quickly licked them. “I didn’t tell the Professor everything, Logan.” She took another step towards him, then stood incredibly still just at the end of his bed, resting one hand lightly on the wrought iron scrollwork that made the foot.

Logan’s mind was fuzzy. She was here, she was right here, looking better than anything he’d seen in the years of his life he could remember. The shadow falling across her face captivated him, her mouth just in the light was saying something, he didn’t know what it was, all he could think was he could just reach out and touch her. Really touch her. His lips moved, she seemed to be waiting for a response. “Oh?” was all he could manage.

“I can do more than control my power.” She rested another hand on the metal foot, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I can control them all. I can do things.”

He was totally focused on the move and shape of her mouth as she spoke, the cupid’s bow that dipped miraculously on her lush top lip, hypnotizing him with its fullness. The peek of her tongue as it flashed out to slick across her lower lip.

“What kinds of things?” he whispered, only wanting to see her mouth move again.

“All kinds of things.” And the door behind her moved swiftly and shut without any movement on her part. He heard the lock turn, clicking loudly in the silence.

Logan snapped back to reality. “Rogue?” He tensed and sat up.

“Logan, don’t worry they’re not here, it’s just me.” Her head rolled back, and her breath quickened. “I control them all, their powers, their voices. I make them quiet now.”

One of her hands grasped the footboard tightly and the other wandered up her chest, making soft circles on the exposed skin of her sternum, visible between where the shite silk rolled over the swell of her breast, nipples tight against the fabric. The hand moved upward to her neck and she stroked the sides, just where he had during the movie, splaying her fingers to one side and then the other. He could see the flesh rise and pebble under her delicate touch. “It’s just me…I can use their powers.” Her breath quickened until she was almost panting. Then she lowered her head and opened her eyes; they were glazed with lust. She looked down at Logan, tangled in the mess of his sheets and smiled.

“I’ve come to collect my birthday present.”

Suddenly Logan’s hands, which had been at his sides, fisted in the sheets, were caught and forced back and to the sides by something on his wrists. His body slid up the bed. He twisted to see what had grabbed him. The wrought iron of the bed had turned into something resembling liquid metal, wrapping around his forearms and pulled him to the top of the bed until he was almost sitting up, his back braced against a flotilla of pillow dragged with him.
He struggled.
“Shhhhh, shhhhh, it’s okay Logan.” Rogue sat next to him on the bed. “It’s just Magneto's power. I would never use it on your bones.” Her hand smoothed his cheek, swept across his forehead, her fingers curling in his sideburns. “I just need to touch you. I won’t hurt you.” He eyed her warily, gauging if it was really her and not one of the people in her head taking control. They hadn’t for a long time but he never knew when it might happen again.

“Shhhh, it’s just me Logan. It’s Marie. I control them now.” And she leaned over and feathered a kiss on his cheek so light it felt like a breeze. “Look at me.” And she stared into his eyes, framing his face with her hands as she leaned over him. “It’s me. I won’t hurt you.”

He could see the warm brown that was all Marie in her gaze, so trusting but self-assured now, confident in her abilites. “I know Marie. I trust you.”

“I need to touch you Logan. I’ve waited so long to feel someone, really feel them. It has to be you.” Despite the assurance of her voice, her eyes were pleading. He nodded and she sighed and he closed his eyes at the grateful sound. She leaned forward again, ghosting her lips once more on his cheek, tracing the outline of his ear, and he shuddered at the sensation that raced under his skin. He felt her move, her weight lifting from the bed, and he opened his eyes, curious why she was moving away.

“Kitty,” she murmured from place once again at the foot of the bed and she phased. White fabric fluttered from her in a soft billow, falling in a slow motion sway from her, a torturously slow unwinding of silk in Logan’s gaze as every inch of Marie’s flesh was bared to his eyes. His temperature spiked at the site of her bare breasts, perfectly smooth and soft in the moonlight. The blue light made her skin marble as his eyes skimmed the smoother planes of her hips, her belly, the sublime arch of her ribs as she breathed. Her eyes locked on face, following a trickle of sweat that snaked from his temple down his cheek to his neck.

“Bobby,” she said softly and pointed one finger towards him. A chill breeze flowed across the room and froze the drop of perspiration just as it hit the hollow of his throat. Logan gasped at the sensation of that tiny sliver of ice on his neck and twisted in pleasure as much as his bound wrists would allow.

“It’s so hot Logan…I know,” she breathed and again she moved her hand and he felt an icy breeze skim across his abdomen; his muscles contracted under the indescribable feel of cold air flowing over his sweat drenched skin.

“Oh ...god, Marie.” He locked his gaze on her, the heat in his eyes tempering the wisps of cold air she send from her skin to him.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this Logan.” She circled the foot of the bed until she stood beside him, unashamed to be so naked in front of him. He strained towards her, frustrated she was close but out of his reach, bound as he was to the bed.

“Marie, let me touch you,” he groaned, pulling against the bonds.

“No.”” She trailed her chill fingers lightly over his abdomen and he hissed in pleasure. “Don’t you see? I need to…to feel…it all my way, my first time. It’s about control. I never had any before.” She looked steadily down into his eyes, calm, knowing he would understand.

I do, god I do Marie.

Logan understood her completely. Like her, he was never fully in control of himself. He had to constantly fight to keep a part of himself away from others, knowing in a moment of weakness, a flicker in concentration, he could loose himself to the bezerker inside him. Marie was the only who truly understood that about him. She was the only one he felt safe to let down his guard with because she had him in her head, knew all about the animal inside him, and she cared him because of, not in spite of, it.

He swallowed hard, knowing the Wolverine disliked being confined, denied the impulse to touch her and own her, he’d bear it to give her what she needed. She needed to feel in control of her powers, her body, and…of him…for now.

“I understand, Marie,” he whispered then sagged back and let his arms relax

“Poor Logan, so hot, I’ll cool you down.” She slid next to him in the bed, gliding one soft arm across his bare chest and she breathed, shooting frost across his overheated skin. He nearly leapt off the bed, muscles cording and bunching as he gasped with pleasure.

“Logan, you don’t know how long...so long,” she moaned. The sheet from his lower body was whisked away by an invisible hand, Jean’s power presumably, and he now was naked also. Marie straddled his lower legs and buried her face in his stomach, her hand reaching up, fingers curling in the crisp hair on his chest.

“Mmmmmmm your smell.” She breathed him in deeply and he squirmed at the touch of her long hair teasing over his skin, her breath against his navel, her lips on his flesh. “You smell so good, like a man should....ooooooh,” she whispered, her voice wanton.

She's a talker, thank you, thank you dear god

Her tongue made dizzying circles, tracing the outline of each muscle in his stomach, her teeth nipping here and there. Fuck, it was making him crazy. He groaned when she sunk her teeth in hard where his hip flexor curved into a hollow.

“Mmmm, I’m dreamed about this spot right here,” she sighed cold breaths against him as her tongue laved over where he teeth had just broken the skin, “for so long. I stare at it when you work out with no shirt.” She licked again at the broken flesh. “This one spot,” she murmured as she kissed it again.

He could feel the skin knit back instantly, then she bit him again, harder this time. He growled savagely and raised his head to look down at her. She was sucking at the bite hard, her eyes raised to his, a familiar glint he recognized as his own in her gaze.

Christ, she’s got a liking for the rough stuff. Holy shit.


Then Logan let his head fall back in ecstasy as she suckled and gnawed at this hypersensitive spot he didn’t even know he had. He was going to fucking explode in a second if she kept that up and she hadn’t even come anywhere near his cock.

Marie, stopped just in time to keep him from coming on her like a kid. She slid up his body, pressing every inch of her silky cool flesh against him as she did so, painfully slow. His hips bucked up uncontrollably as her soft stomach passed over his cock. Her lips teased at his nipple, then she bit it hard.

“Oh shit, Marie, darlin’” he groaned and twisted under her mouth and hands. She twisted the other nipple, then touched an icy cold finger to it and he hissed. She was driving him insane, sensations flooding through every part of his body. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up on end as her hot tongue moved and now covered the cold flesh, warming it up, sucking hard, then smoothing the flat of her tongue over it, rough, then gentle, then biting.

She was whispering, “Logan, you feel so good, so hard under me." And she latched her lips onto his shoulder, sucking and biting.

Using what little room he had to move he pushed his chest towards her, wanting to feel every inch of her he could reach, wanting her wonderful, gorgeous breasts against him. Marie shifted up to his neck, sinking her teeth hard into the side and she growled. He groaned in response and turned his head as far as he could to the side to sink his face into the incredible silk of her hair. The feel of her teeth against him, hot breath scalding his skin, he ached for her to mark him, to make him hers.

“Oh fuck Marie, harder, uh...shit…bite me harder!” He’d never surrendered control like this before, never. He’d always been the one in command, the one taking a woman, making her cry and twist beneath him. It was a totally new experience for him and he was completely under her spell. “Please,” he panted into her ear, he tongue barely able to reach to flick the delicate shell. “Harder, please, god Marie,” he implored into the softness of her hair.

She whipped her head back and smiled a lascivious grin down at him before she snarled and sunk her teeth as deep as she could into the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, burying her teeth into the cord of muscle. The helplessness of being completely dominated unraveled something deep inside him, some hidden knot snapped apart and he lost control under the the sensation of being under the predator's grip, his blood surging under her tongue probing the torn flesh with as much wanton abandon as he hims experienced in the haze of a battle or animal lust. The Wolverine fell away in the face of the dominant creature at his throat and only Logan remained, coming undone at the feel of Marie's teeth and her ownership of him. He roared and came so hard he saw stars behind his eyes, shooting ropy cords of come onto her stomach and his. He spasmed hard, his back arching off the bed like he was being electrocuted, bucking against her.

He collapsed back, panting hard, his head back eyes rolling. “Oh shit…oh shit.”
He felt her chuckle and swipe one last lick against his mending flesh.
“I’m not done yet,” she purred as she moved. It took all his strength to raise his head and look down. Marie smiled up at him, all animal ferocity gone from her gaze, just her own soft brown eyes looking up at his as her tongue snaked out and she flicked it against a pearly strand of come on his stomach. He hissed and kept his gaze locked on her as his woman, his Marie, his sweet girl cleaned him, pursing her lips to savor every drop, making the most delicious noises. She worked her way up, tracing a fiery trail all the way up his body, igniting a new fire down below as she moved.

She knotted one hand in his hair, forcing his head back as she licked slowly up his neck then pulled back so he could see her face clearly.

“You taste so good.” The words fell from her lips in a hiss, a sibilant prayer as she moved over him, her thighs caressing the outside of his hips, her fingers fisting in his hair, her breasts brushing his chest, the tip of her nipples grazing him, making him arch against her, aching to feel anything he could reach. “Your sweat, everything, mmmmmm.” Marie closed her yes and slowly her tongue snaked out and made slow circle around her lips, lapping up a drop of his blood the corner of her mouth. She stared hard into his eyes.

“I want more.” She demanded.

“Anything…god!" Every thought spun away as he looked into her commanding eyes; the heated imperative in her voice flamed every his every nerve ending. He couldn't help himself. "Everything! Please, Marie!” He was begging and he didn’t care. Anything to make her move once more against him, to let him inside her.

And she answered his cries, forcing his lips open with her tongue, plundering his depths, tasting all he had. He moaned at the feel of it all, the rough flat of her tongue, the softness of her lips, the twist of her body as she folded herself against him.

Her tongue slowed as she sank into him, savoring the taste and feel of his mouth. Logan took this opportunity to probe her lips with his tongue, laving the cupid’s bow of her top lip, pulling it gently between his teeth. He was rewarded when Marie moaned softly into his mouth. He pressed his advantage and snaked his tongue into her depths, exploring, experimenting with the delicious taste of her breath. She sank further into his ministrations, relaxing the hand in his hair and bringing it down to cup his cheek. Logan shifted and snaked one of his legs around hers and brought it up, pulling her sex against him. He groaned into her mouth when he felt her slick wetness against him. The smell she was putting off was intoxicating, heady musk and sweet Marie all in one. He closed his eyes again and fell into the feel of her mouth, the pressure of her weight on his chest, the soft touch of her fingers cupping the side of his face, scratching in his sideburns.

It felt like hours, days, weeks he kissed her and he couldn’t get enough, would never get enough if he survived the powerful zap of sensations snapping against his every nerve. He couldn’t even begin think how it must feel to her, experiencing lust and heat and heady arousal skin to skin for the first time.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air, “Oh god, Marie…darlin’…I have to…I need you so bad,” he groaned, not caring that he was begging. He’d crawl on his hands and knees over broken glass for anything she would give him.

“I know,” she panted against his cheek. She moved her other leg and suddenly he could feel her moist heat against the base of his cock. She slowly slid up, then down again, rubbing him between her folds, lubricating him with her natural sweetness.

Logan’s hands balled into fists and he strained against the iron keeping his hands from touching her. “Marie, darlin’ let me touch you,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

“No,” she said simply, her eyes boring into his, all confidence again. “I need it to be my way.” He pulled against his bonds and tensed his forearms, ready to slash his way free. But before he could pop his claws Marie hand locked on his jaw and she forced him to look her.

“No Logan, you have to let me.”

It took every ounce of his willpower not to slice through his bonds, throw her down and plunge into her. His body was screaming for it, the animal in him throwing itself against the cage of his mind, howling to be let out. He forced back every impulse he had to free himself and take her and fell back against the bed, letting his hands fall open above the iron encircling them.

She kissed him once softly, whispering words of thanks to him, then hard, bruising his lips as, in one swift motion, she impaled herself on his shaft.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” No idea whose cry it was: hers, his, both, he didn’t care. Logan completely lost himself in the slick, wet heat of her body. He felt the membrane of her virginity tear and then he was fully encased in Marie and she was gasping against him, her face buried against his neck.

Restraining himself from the throbbing urge to move his hips, he waited, catching his breath, for her to adjust to him. “Marie, Marie, you okay?” he murmured, turning his head and pressing his lips to her hair.

She lifted her head and he saw tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. He tensed, afraid she was in pain, but then she whispered, “I’m so happy.” And brilliant smile burst across her face, lighting the whole room like a ray of sun piercing an endless night. He strained as far as he could and captured her lips in a slow sweet kiss, better than anything he’d felt so far this crazy, mind-blowing, earth-shattering day.

God, I love you Marie, only you, always you.

She sighed, returning his kiss, then she began to move and he lost the ability to think at all, only the feel of her lips on his, the feel of her velvety folds wrapped around him, her tears on his cheek were the only things that existed in the universe.

She broke away too soon and leaned away from him and back, settling more firmly on his hips. Then she rocked forward and he groaned at the sight of her in all her glory, breasts high and swaying gently, her aurburn and platinum hair drifting around her shoulders, her eyes closed and her head flung back as she rocked her hips again. Her lips fell open in a perfect O and the softest gasp escaped from her. Bracing his feet against the mattress, Logan levered his hips up, angling for deeper penetration and she moaned, her hands falling from his face to his chest, fingers tangled in the hair there.

“Oh god Logan!” she cried. And he thrust again, pushing her forward. “You feel so hard, so big, it’s…oh shit…,” she moaned in bliss, tears falling freely now and she rocked back hard onto him. He couldn’t take it, it was too much, she was everything that mattered, the world could burn down around them right now and he wouldn’t notice, all he could think of was the vision of her riding him, her hands now tangled in her own hair as she gasped and moaned as they undulated back and forth, an endless throb of heat and pleasure.

“Your senses…oh god!” she gasped.

“Feel it darlin’, feel it with everything I gave you,” he urged her to pull all his powers to the forefront of her mind, so her every nerve ending was crackling and supercharged like his. He so desperately wanted her to come and knew as a virgin it may be difficult for her but she was special, she had everything she needed to make this perfect.

She upped the tempo, riding the rise and fall of his hips as he sank and surged into her smooth, soaked, grasping heat over and over and over again. He’d never seen anything so glorious in his life. Her nipples puckered to points and she ghosted her fingertips over them, plucking at the nubs. He moaned at the sensation she created in him, spirals of electricity shooting all the way to his toes and the ends of his hair. She swayed over him again and again, riding up his cock until he was almost free of her then easing down again.

She alternated between agonizing slow slides up and down until he could see the rim of his cock easing from between her folds, wet and hard, and hard thrusts downward as she crashed into his pelvis and he felt himself bump against her walls. It was torture of the exquisite kind and he couldn’t take his eyes away from her face. The crinkle of her brow as she smoothed herself slowly over his shaft, her teeth clamping down on her delectable lower lip when she slammed hard onto him, the sound of her hitched breath as she rode him on wave upon wave of pleasure. She moaned and writhed on him and he felt the cosmos collapse down to only the place where their bodies were joined.


Suddenly, his hands were free, the metal slipping away from his wrists like mercury and he shot forward and grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her with all the ferocity he had in him, letting the animal loose as he pistoned up into her again and again, bucking against her wonderful ass, her incredibly soft, smooth thighs.

She tore her mouth away from his and screamed, “Oh god Logan! So good...so good." She panted hard and he could feel her insides quivering and clenching around him. She was so close. He wanted her to take herself over the edge, on her own terms, totally in control of everything but he couldn’t resist her breasts. One immaculate, never been touched, pink nipple swayed in front of him and he latched on it. Sucking hard he fervently worshipped her body like a dying mad before his goddess. She screamed his name and suddenly her inner walls gripped him in a vise that left him breathless and taunt as a bowstring, his balls drawn up tight against him. She screamed against, a primal sound ripping from her throat as she fell forward, her hair billowing around them both as she shuddered, ripples of pleasure running through every part of her, radiating from the scared place where they were joined.

The feel of her release sent Logan over the edge and thrust into her searing heat and tight embrace one more time, lifting them both off the bed. As they crashed back down and he flooded deep inside of her, shaking and shivering as he did, she crushed her lips to his, her tears mingling with the sweat taste of her breath, the salty tang of their combined sweat. His hands still cupped her jaw and he kissed every inch of her beautiful face he could reach, laving away her tears until they were utterly gone, then he kissed her as tenderly as he could as she curled against him, spent and lax.

“Logan…” she murmured against his slowly working lips.

“Mmmm?” was all he could get out as he slicked his tongue over the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you.”

He pulled his head back and regarded her seriously. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He raised her head, her eyes unfocused with post-coital haze. “What?”

He grinned at her, “It’ll be my turn to make you beg in a little while.”

Her laughter was the only thing that mattered in the whole world in this one perfect moment.