He had her scented out within moments of his return to the mansion, and within minutes had her cornered and backed up against a wall. He heard her breath hitch in her throat as he leaned down and breathed her in, nose lightly brushing against the heated pulse point below her ear. His pants tightened almost uncomfortably as the scent of clean, warm female saturated his senses.

“Aren’t you going to welcome me home?” he murmured against her neck, unable to stop the rakish grin that spread across his lips as the soft skin flushed bright red under his breath. He heard her pulse skip, speed up a notch.

“Home...” Brown eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

A smile tugged at the corners of her luscious mouth, and he had to fight the sudden urge to lean down and crush it under his own.

“I suppose it’s as good a place as any,” he said, shrugging. “Miss me?”

“Hardly.”

“Yeah, me too.” He tilted his hips forward until they brushed against hers. “Really, really hardly.”

“God, Logan, do you have to be so...crude?”

“You love it.” He brought a hand up to twirl a lock of red hair around his fingers. “Bet Scooter never talks to you like that.”

Jean’s gaze tilted down as he said it, half-smile quickly fading.

“Hey...” He put a hand under her chin, turned her face up until she looked at him again. “Why so blue?”

She looked into his eyes a moment, as though internally debating whether or not she should open up to him. Opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally decided to dip a toe in.

“Scott’s...’attention’...hasn’t exactly been focused in the right place lately.”

He tried. He really did.

“What...is he too busy shinin’ his Hot Wheels?”

She let out an annoyed breath as he bit back a chuckle.

“I’m being serious, Logan,” she said. She pushed him out of her space and walked over to the window of Scott’s office.

“So am I.” He dropped the wry grin and pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket. Lit the tip and took a deep draw. He tapped the ash from his cigar into Scott’s leather chair, then crossed the room to where she was standing.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said, slipping an arm around her from behind. “What’s got one-eye so distracted?”

“Not what,” she said, giving him a meaningful look.

“Really...?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Who’s the other guy?”

Jean rolled her eyes, turning away from him again. He was unable to hold back a slight chuckle this time as he tightened his arm around her, pulling her back into him.

“Aw, come one, Jeannie...I was just yankin’ your chain.” He felt her abdomen tighten ever so slightly as he flattened his hand against it. “Besides...you really expect me to believe any man would look elsewhere when he has a sweet little piece of ass like you waitin’ at home for him?”

Her breath quickened as he pressed into her from behind, her shoulders softening just barely as she leaned back into him. He splayed his long fingers over her belly, his fingertips brushing the underside of her breasts.

“Seems to me if Scott’s not...appreciating you,” he breathed against the pulse point where her jawline met her neck, “You should go about findin’ someone who will.”

She straightened up slightly, turned her face to his. Logan looked into brown eyes that had gone serious again, and knew what was coming next.

“I love him.”

And there it was. Logan exhaled a long, deep breath.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

Jean broke his gaze again, looking out of the window and down at the courtyard. Logan took another long draw from his cigar as he glanced down at the students milling around below them, gossiping and giggling as they scurried to their classes.

He noticed that annoying yellow-wearing kid leaning up against the steps, talking – did she ever stop talking? - animatedly to a young brunette he couldn’t remember ever having seen before.

“Who’s the new kid?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the two girls.

“Her name is Rogue. Or at least that what she says,” Jean said flatly as Logan assessed the newest arrival.

There was something odd about the kid, something that stuck out against the other students, and it took Logan a moment to put his finger on what it was. It was her clothing. She was dressed way too warm for early fall, and weirdly to boot. Corduroy jacket with sleeves that stopped at her elbow, long opera gloves covering the rest of her arms and hands. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck and stuffed into the breast of the jacket, and her red plaid skirt stopped just above knees covered in dark-colored tights. As she turned her head to look somewhere, the sunlight gleaned on a bold streak of platinum in her long, otherwise very dark hair.

“What’s her deal?”

“We rescued her from the brotherhood a few months ago,” Jean said. “The professor has her hiding out here and finishing up her high school diploma while the feds search for Magneto.”

A mildly interested 'hunh,' was Logan’s only reaction at first, but there had been something lingering in Jean’s tone as she spoke, a certain disdain that could be heard every time she said ‘she’ and ‘her’. And the way she was looking down at the kid, almost...glaring....

Logan looked at Jean, then down at Rogue. Looked at Jean again. Then he just about choked on his cigar.

“Jesus, Jean, you can’t be serious,” he coughed through the puffs of smoke that shot out of his lungs with his reaction. “Christ, the kid must be – what – eighteen? Nineteen? Cyke’s gotta be real hard up if he’s bangin’ a –"

“She’s twenty. And he’s not ‘banging her'.” She paused ever so slightly with ‘banging’, almost treating the word like a piece of dirty toilet paper she peeled off the bottom of her high-heeled shoe. “No one’s banging her. That’s the problem.”

“Okay.” Logan shook his head. “Now you’re really not making any sense whatsoever.”

Jean pulled out of his embrace and crossed the room again to lean against Scott’s desk.

“She’s got this whole ‘untouchable’ thing going on,” Jean said. “You’d think that would turn most men off, but it doesn’t. It works like bees to pollen, and she knows it.”

Logan walked over to Jean, eyebrow raised. She gave him the ‘don’t-look-at-me-like-I’m-crazy’ look as he came to stand before her.

“I’m a woman...okay? I can see right through her,” Jean said, crossing her arms over her chest. “She tries to act all innocent about it, like she has no idea what she’s doing, but I’ve seen the googly eyes she gives Scott when she thinks no one’s looking. I’ve seen the way she giggles at all of his dumb jokes. I’ve seen the way she lingers in the doorway after class to ask for ‘extra help’ with her papers. And Scott’s eating it all up.”

Logan raised a hand to thumb her chin as he spoke. “Jean...Somethin’ else is goin’ on with him, alright? Yeah, the kid’s okay lookin’ and all – “ (fuckable for sure, he almost added, but didn’t... ) “ – but I really don’t think you got anythin’ to worry about here.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“And as for the whole ‘untouchable’ shit,” he added, “Baby, I could have that tight little pussy of hers wrapped around my cock faster than you can scream ‘Cyclops’.”

Jean looked up at him, a glint of something he couldn’t quite place in her brown eyes as she met his gaze.

“Is that so...?” she mused. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow as she pressed her palms into Scott’s desk and lifted herself onto the edge so that she now sat on top of it. She crossed one long leg over the other, the toe of her high-heel brushing lightly against the inside of Logan’s denim-clad thigh. Logan breathed in sharply at the sensation, a stirring beginning once more deep in his loins.

“Care to make it interesting?” she asked.

Logan looked at her, incredulous. The glint in her eyes glowed pure mischief now as she rubbed her foot ever more deliberately against his leg. He knew what she was doing, and it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t going to screw the sense out of an awkwardly-hot-barely-out-of-her-teens girl just to prove a point to her.

“Maybe. What kinda stakes are we talkin'?”

Funny. That didn’t sound at all like what he was planning to say.

“Hmm...” Jean chewed on her lower lip, making a big show of deciding on a worthy prize. “If I win...” She gently reached a hand forward, perfectly manicured fingernail running against the seam of his fly as she pondered. “I get...” A tingle of anticipation curled at the base of his spine as her nail clicked softly over the ridges in the denim.

“...your ‘48 Panhead.”

No fucking way.

He must have made some subtle face gesture to give away his bluff, or else she gleaned his internal reaction telepathically, because a smile ticked at the corner of her mouth, the mischievous glint in her eyes darkening.

“What’s the matter?” she taunted. “Afraid you might not have the chops?”

Logan stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her thigh, stilling her leg’s movement against him a bit. He pressed his fingers gently yet deliberately into her thigh, rubbing the tense flesh. Jean’s shoulders rolled back and down, body visibly softening under his touch.

”Like candy, Jean,” he said. “From a baby.”

But it didn’t really matter, did it? He wasn’t going to lose his bike, because he wasn’t gambling his bike, and he sure as shit wasn’t taking any stupid bet.

“So what do I get when I win?”

Funny. He hadn’t been planning on saying that, either.

“If ...you win...” Jean had now flattened her palm against the growing bulge at the front of his jeans and was rubbing slowly through the rough fabric. His hips shuddered as he fought the urge to press them forward. “...I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting since the day we first met.”

Logan looked deep into her eyes for a moment, testing her, searching for any sign that she was being anything but absolutely straight with him. He couldn’t find any, and his hardon pulsed even harder against his jeans as she continued to work him over. Fuck it, he thought, finally giving in and pushing his hips forward, completing the movement of her hand on him.

“Jean...” he said, voice cracking slightly as he struggled to regain his composure. His hand came up to her face again, thumb tugging gently at her lower lip as she smiled knowingly at him. “She’s a student. And I’m...well, I’m me. Some people might look at that and call it...preying.”

She was nodding her head slowly as he spoke, her smile broadening with each word.

“I mean...somethin’ like this could really get old Wheels’ panties in a knot if it ever got out,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, her eyes locked on his as she continued to nod.

“Might even get my ass kicked outta this place. Like, for good.”

“Y-up.” She nodded.

He was pretty sure he’d never been harder in his life. She was pushing all of his buttons, and she knew it. He continued to rub himself into her palm for a few moments, enjoying the delicious friction their combined movements were creating. He snapped back to reality then, snatching her wrist and pulling her hand up and away. She gasped at the sudden movement.

“Let’s cut through the bullshit, alright?” he growled. “You know damn well you don’t have to beat around the bush like this to get me in your bed.” He leaned right into her, testing her scent. “And we both know you could give a fuck about the Panhead. So how about tellin’ me what you’re really gettin’ outta this?”

Jean dropped her gaze.

“Scott and I are getting married in a few months,” she said, acquiescing. “I just...I want the first year of our marriage to be perfect. Free of any distractions.”

He glared at her, considering her words carefully. Suddenly wondered if any of this was worth his time.

“And...” she added, eyes rolling back up to his again, “What faster way to get a woman off of Scott’s radar than to have him find out the person he hates most got there first?”

Christ if the woman didn’t just roll a hard six. He was like granite under his jeans now as her leg began moving again, foot slowly inching up to wedge itself right against his crotch. This was beginning to look more like a win-win situation for him with each passing second.

“So...” she purred, mischievous smile returning, “We have a deal, then?”

She flexed her foot so that the pointed toe of her shoe pressed gently against his anus. Logan grunted softly as a sharp bolt of pleasure shot up his back. Barely holding it together, he managed to reach forward and grab a fistful of her hair, turning her face up toward him until their lips almost touched. He forced back a growl as she bit on her bottom lip.

“No quickie,” he said. “I mean it, Jean. I get you for one night. All night. I don’t give a fuck how you get rid of Scooter, you make it happen.”

He watched her for any sign of wavering, and was pleasantly surprised when there was none.

“Anything else?” she asked.

Why the hell not?

“Yeah,” he said. “I get to put it...anywhere.”

She was smiling broadly, almost catlike, as Logan silently accepted her offer. He didn’t know what had gotten into her over the last few months while he was away, but he knew he liked it. A lot. He leaned in, preparing to seal the deal with a kiss, but she suddenly straightened up and hopped down from the desk.

“Scott,” she said, stepping out of Logan’s space and heading toward the doorway mere seconds before he appeared there.

“Thought I might find you in here,” Scott said, greeting his fiancee with a kiss. His gaze flitted toward Logan then, and he made a vague gesture with his hand that Logan could only guess meant, ‘You’re smoking in my office. Again.’ Logan looked down at the long column of ash hanging from the end of his cigar and tapped it onto the desk. Looked back at Scott and smiled.

“I was just testing the new P.A. system,” Jean said to Scott. “All packed?”

“More or less,” Scott replied, turning his attention back to Jean. “I just can’t seem to find my passport. Have you seen it?”

“Goin’ somewhere?” Logan chimed in. Scott ignored him.

“Scott and the professor are leaving for a conference on Monday morning.” Jean placed her hand lovingly on Scott’s shoulder. “They’ll be gone for a week.”

There was an almost imperceptible nod that followed that last remark.

“I’ll go have a look around for that passport,” Jean said, leaning over to place a light peck on Scott’s cheek before she turned and left the room.

The two men stood staring at each other as Jean clickety-clacked down the hall.

“Well...it’s good to have you back, Logan.” Scott was lying.

“Good to be back.” So was Logan.

Logan reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a set of keys. Tossed them to Scott, who just barely caught them.

“Your bike needs gas,” Logan said.

Scott looked incredulous as he tossed the keys back.

“So fill ‘er up,” he said.

Scott turned and left the room, following Jean down the hall. Smiling to himself, Logan turned to look out of the window again. Rogue was waving goodbye to her friend now as she bounded up the steps and into the doors of the mansion, pleated skirt swaying with every movement of her young hips.

Oh, Scooter, Logan thought to himself, hand absently rubbing over the now painful ridge in his jeans. If only you knew just how literally I plan on doing that.

He’d spent the rest of the weekend settling back into life at the school and making his presence both known and felt by the mansion’s residents, and in particular by the newest young protégée, Rogue.

Her lingering glances and shy hellos whenever she crossed his path told him his efforts hadn't gone unnoticed. On Monday afternoon, he finally found her alone, away from the gaggle of clucking females that usually surrounded her, and decided to go in for the kill.

He spotted her – scented her out, actually – hidden deep in the library, between the tall stacks, her nose buried deep in a book as she stood, fully absorbed in the text before her. He took a quick moment to make sure the adjacent stacks were empty before approaching her quietly from behind.

“Hey, kid,” he said into her hair.

She gasped loudly and jumped, the top of her head hitting Logan square in the jaw and jamming his teeth up into his tongue.

“Ow!” Logan brought a hand up to his mouth as daggers of pain shot down his tongue. The salty tang of blood stung at his taste-buds. Rogue spun around, a hand pressed to her bumped head.

“Omigosh, are you okay?” she whispered.

Logan nodded. “You?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, rubbing her head. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry.” He held out his hand. “I’m Logan.”

She looked at his hand for a moment, then up at him, her eyes wide, deep, and brown. Her gloved hands clutched tighter around her book, pulling it closer into her chest.

“I know,” she said.

She blinked, unmoving.

“Right...” Logan pocketed his hand again. He leaned in ever so slightly, enjoying the very slight flutter he detected in her heartbeat as he did. “So what kind of a name is Rogue?”

“A better one than ‘kid’,” she said. “And anyway, what kind of a name is ‘Wolverine’?”

“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging. She had funny looking teeth. Not bad-funny, just...funny. Goddamn if they weren’t framed by the most interesting set of pink lips that he’d seen in a long time, though. A full bottom lip that all but begged to be gently nibbled, and a luscious upper lip that curled into a perfect cupid’s bow...

She was right about one thing...there was nothing about her that said ‘kid’. Finally making a close-up assessment of her, he could easily see the womanly curves that she tried unsuccessfully to hide beneath her bizarre, layered style.

Her legs, though not particularly long, were slender, shapely and toned, even beneath her dark tights. Well-rounded hips drew up into a taut waist and a flat, tight tummy. She wore no scarf today, and the way she held her book against her chest made her already healthy-looking breasts look like two warm pillows as they peeked out from the top of her blouse.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked her. Before she could answer, he took the book from her, noting the sharp increase in her body temperature as his fingers brushed over her clothed breasts. He turned the book over and scanned the words on the page until a particular passage caught his eye. He murmured the words aloud as he read.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

Logan flipped the book over and looked at the title. “Romeo and Juliet. Sounds like some pretty racy stuff. What’s it about?”

Rogue looked up at him blankly.

“Well, it’s...it’s Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare...?”

She looked at him disbelievingly when he didn’t respond. “Have you been living under a rock for the past, like, couple of centuries?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” Logan said. He tapped a finger to his head. “Can’t remember.”

Realization dawned on her face as she processed his words.

“Oh,” she said, visibly letting her guard down. Yeah, he could always count on that to gain him a few empathy points. “Well...it’s...a story – a play – about two teenagers who meet and fall in love...or lust...and—”

“Well, which is it?” Logan asked, interrupting.

She looked at him, confused. “Oh, it’s definitely a play. See? If you look at the text you can see the stage dir-"

Logan exhaled.

“I meant love or lust, Rogue.” He nodded toward the book, which she now had back in her hand. “Sounds like you’re not sure what really went down between those two.”

“Oh that. Well, yeah...that’s the topic of my essay, actually. Whether the ‘great romance’ between them was based on true love or merely...lust.”

“Hm.” Logan stepped in closer to her. “What do you think it was?”

Rogue looked up at him. “I...I’m not sure, really."

“Well you must have a theory,” he said. “What’s your theory?”

He was standing so close to her now that he could feel the warmth of her body through the layers of clothes between them. He reached an arm up and leaned it against the bookstack, closing her into his space.

“Well...um...” Her eyes flickered to his arm, then back to his face. She smiled nervously. “Given that they only knew each other a few days...” her eyes were roaming over his clothed chest. Logan smiled internally as her breath sped up a notch. “...and just a few hours before meeting Juliet, Romeo was mooning over another woman...” Her eyes met his again as she flushed brightly all over. “...I guess I would have to say that it was just...lust.”

“Interesting,” Logan said.

“What?” Rogue looked around discreetly, making sure no one was hearing their conversation.

“The way you talk about lust,” he said. “Almost like it’s a bad thing.”

She looked up at him as he spoke, her gaze steady yet visibly affected, obviously aware that they were no longer talking about the book.

“The way I see it, darlin’, lust is pure as pure can be,” Logan whispered. “No ego. No pretense. Just...honest, animal attraction.”

He could hear her breath speeding up even more in her chest as he spoke. She tried to back up as he continued to close the space between them, only to be blocked by the bookshelf behind her. He studied her scent as she looked up at him.

“You done class?” he asked her. She nodded, wide-eyed.

“Whaddya say we get away from this place for a while?” he said. “We can go and grab a couple of, uh...milkshakes.” He’d wanted to say beers, until he suddenly remembered her age. “You can tell me some more about your book.”

He lingered a little on that last word, letting his gaze drift down to the novel she clutched against her chest. Her blush deepened as his eyes raked over her form. When his eyes met hers again, she was biting her lip, an otherwise innocent action that all the same managed to send an unexpected thump through his groin. She opened her mouth as though to say ‘okay’, then straightened up as she visibly changed her mind.

“I...no thanks,” she said.

He was genuinely puzzled. “Why not?”

“I...” Rogue clutched the book against her, the fabric of her gloves stretching tightly across her knuckles as she dug her fingers into the cover. Logan watched her as she thought up an excuse. “I...I have to help Jubilee reconfigure her hard disk, and then I’m competing in a World of Warcraft RPG tournament.”

He blinked at her. “I don’t understand half of what you just said.”

“Look, I’m just...busy, alright?” she said. “Thank you, though.”

Her gaze flickered downward as she stepped out of his space. Logan turned and watched as she swished away, leaving him alone in the stacks.

“Fuck her yet?”

Logan just about spat the water he was drinking all over the dinner table.

“Christ, Jeannie, you kiss that boy-scout fiance of yours with that mouth?” He thought back to the way she’d been barely able to form her mouth around the word ‘bang’ only a few days before. “And anyway, you’re the telepath. You tell me.”

Jean glanced discreetly over to the table where Rogue was sitting with her friends.

“Well, what’s taking so long?” she asked, a smirk quivering at her lips. “I thought the Wolverine had this super amazing panty-melting power that no woman could resist.” She waved her fingers through the air as she said it, as though casting an imaginary spell.

“She wanted to say yes,” Logan said, talking more to himself than to Jean as he watched Rogue across the dining hall. “I smelled it. Something’s holding her back.”

More like someone. It was obvious to Logan in the library that word had gotten round to her about his reputation.

“You know,” he said, turning back to Jean and leaning into her, “You could always expedite the process a bit by doin’ a little mental pokin’ around for me. Find out who’s been talkin’ to her.”

“I could...” she said. Her hand found his knee under the table and began to caress it in a way that made his pants suddenly feel two sizes too small. “But what fun would that be?”

Logan closed his eyes as she rubbed his leg, allowing himself a few moments to relish the sensation of her hand as it moved up closer to his crotch.

“Besides,” she said, a smile in her voice, “That Panhead is looking sweeter and sweeter by the minute.”

Logan opened his eyes. “Jean...” he said, gaining some semblance of control as he took her hand in his. He pulled it up to press firmly against the bulge in his jeans as he locked his gaze on hers. “The only way you’re gettin’ your hands on that bike is if I’m bendin’ you over it.”

Heh. That did something to drop the smug grin a bit from her face. There was still a trace of a smile on her lips, though, as she pulled her hand away and got up from her seat. Logan watched as she picked up her tray and turned to leave, every click of her high heels on the linoleum like a torturous tap on his aching hardon.

With Jean gone, Logan picked up his fork again and set his attention back to the task of getting the key into Rogue’s pants. He watched her as she sat at her table, tugging nervously at her gloves as she listened to yet another one of Banana Kid’s stories.

She had to want something. Every woman did. He just had to figure out what Rogue’s particular something was and give it to her. Until then, he was going to need to get someone to talk to her, shoot down some of those stories she’d been hearing about him.

Logan glanced around the cafeteria, suddenly remorseful that he'd never bothered to make friendly with anyone who might be able to help him. Sure, he could get any number of trouble-making punks to do it – they owed him enough favors – but Rogue wasn’t going to fall for that.

No, this was going to take a different type of person, someone not at all like Logan. Someone preppy, clean-cut and trustworthy. Like Scott, but even gayer.

Logan glanced back over to Rogue’s table, where that Ice-pick kid was now standing, asking Rogue a question. Logan watched as they spoke, noting the easy rapport between them, the way she leaned into him and smiled as he spoke...

Bingo.

Rogue must have sensed him watching her then, because her gaze flitted over in his direction. Her eyes froze on his as she noticed him staring. Holding her gaze, he let a slow smile spread across his lips as he cut a piece of roast beef from his plate. He put the fork in his mouth and sucked the meat off, rolling it slowly over his tongue as he chewed. He licked his lips and swallowed, then winked at her.

She flushed bright red and looked away, hands back to tugging at her gloves.

Oh yeah. This was going to be a LOT of fun.

The next morning, Logan waited outside of the boys’ locker room as they filed in after gym class. He yanked Alderdyce out of the group just before he went in, pulling him over by the shirt and slamming him up against the wall.

“Hey, if this is about the fire down in the stables, I swear it wasn’t me this time,” John said.

Logan smiled. “Fire?”

“Oh. Fuck. Listen man, I-"

“Can it, Flame Boy,” Logan said. “I need a favor.”

Turned out the ‘favor’ Logan wanted this time was one that he was pleased to oblige, and so it was only a matter of minutes before John had his mouth wrapped around Bobby Drake’s popsicle, and Logan had a digital recording of said mouth on said popsicle in his hand.

Christ, if only he hadn’t stopped the camera rolling before he’d caught Drake’s reaction. He had to literally swallow back a chuckle as he watched the kid slip and slide all over the shower stall, scrambling for his balance as he grabbed at the boxer shorts around his knees.

Logan put on his best mean face and cleared his throat authoritatively. “You,” he said, nodding toward a smirking John. “Get lost.”

He kept his eyes glued on the Icepick as John sauntered out of the locker room. From there, it took only a skillfully raised eyebrow to bring the kid to his scrawny knees. Literally. He watched with disguised amusement as Bobby knelt on the shower floor, hands coming together in prayer position.

“Look, I’ll do anything you want,” Bobby said. “Just please don’t tell Kitty. Please.”

Later that morning, he snuck into Scott’s office and listened in on the new intercom system as Bobby spoke – no, sang – his praises to Rogue. Oh sure, Logan acts all tough on the outside, but underneath it all he’s really blah blah blah...He has this deep moral blah blah blah...He once saved a bunny from a burning blah blah...

Bunny? The fuck...?

Logan moved his finger to the ‘MIC’ button, preparing to make some sort of announcement over the loudspeaker - anything to break up the conversation - but the girl’s suddenly very interested ‘Really?‘ stopped him in his tracks. He leaned back in Scott’s leather chair, listening on for a few minutes until the conversation gradually turned from him to other things.

He shut the intercom off, smiling to himself at a mission well accomplished. That afternoon, he would arrange for a chance run-in with Rogue that she was not likely to soon forget.

He was just about finished with his set when he heard the giggling of female voices heading out of the girls’ locker room. He exhaled sharply as he pressed the barbell to the gym ceiling one last time and held it. His arm and chest muscles twitched with exertion as he held the barbell over his eyes, a low growl escaping him as he held the weight. A drop of sweat slid down his knuckle and fell onto his cheek.

Just as his muscles reached failure, he leaned his arms back and dropped the barbell onto the rack behind him. He lay on the bench, breathing deeply for a few moments, and then he sat up and grabbed the white towel hanging on the side of the weight machine. He slung it over his shoulder and stood up from the bench. Turning, he realized – none too surprisingly, heh – that he’d had an audience.

Near the entrance of the girls’ locker room, Rogue stood with two of her friends. That yellow wearin’ kid – Jamboree? Jujube? – and that other one that could x-beam herself through walls or whatever.

His shirtlessness had had the desired effect on the three young ladies if their reactions – some of which he saw, others which he sensed otherwise – were to be believed. The wall-beamer let out a small whimper under her breath as Rogue's jaw went slack, mouth opening slightly. Yellow did nothing but smile broadly.

“Hey, Rogue,” Logan said.

“Hi, Logan!” Yellow said, piping in. “How are you-”

“…grrrrrrr....”

“Right. “ She nodded. “Homework, lots of it. Kitty too. C’mon, Kitty.”

She grabbed the other girl by the sleeve and tugged her along in spite of her obvious reluctance. They exited the gym, leaving him alone with Rogue. She stood before him in silence as the door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing loudly in the now empty gym.

He slowly stepped toward her, watching as her eyes roamed his naked torso. She cleared her throat softly.

“I should go,” she said to his pecs, pointing a thumb back over her shoulder. “I’m late for…something.”

She turned and headed for the exit.

“You wanna know what your problem is?” he asked, just before she reached the door. She stopped and turned to face him again, a look of feigned bewilderment on her face.

“Not really,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You need to loosen up,” he said, continuing his slow steady pace in her direction. “A lot. Stop lettin’ your brain get in the way. Might also help if you wore less clothing.”

Rogue’s mouth dropped open.

“Well thank you for that analysis, Dr. Logan,” she said. Then, with narrowed eyes, “You know, this is going to come as a HUGE blow to your ego, but not every woman on the planet wants to have sex with you. Especially not this one.”

Logan furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “You don’t?“

“No,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “I don’t.”

“That’s odd,” he said, coming to stand before her. “’Cause I didn’t even realize we were talkin’ about sex, darlin’. I was tryin’ to give you some advice on your combat training.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as a hot blush rose to her face. She looked away, flustered, as she realized he was talking about her performance in class earlier.

“What I was trying to say...” He stepped into her space until she backed up against the door of the gym. “Is that you’ve gotta to learn to let go. Trust your instincts.”

He was standing close enough to her now that her scent wrapped all around him, belying what she tried so hard to hide from him. She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes guarded and yet vulnerable all at once as he held her gaze.

“Just follow your instincts, Rogue,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he blocked her against the door. He leaned in, dizzying in her scent.

Thinking back on it later that day, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d raised his hand to her face just then - he fuzzily recalled it being something innocent, like brushing away a silver hair stuck in her lip gloss, or a stray eyelash on her cheek – but when he did, it was too late for Rogue to stop him. Her eyes flickered to his hand just before his fingers brushed over her skin, and her scent suddenly spiked with panic.

“No, don’t--!” she said, flinching, but it was already too late. It was the last thing he would remember clearly before a white hot bolt of agony shot through his fingers, and down his arm, engulfing his entire body within milliseconds.

He felt like every cell in his body was being peeled open like an orange and then set on fire. Light became dark and dark became light, time turned on its axis and spun so that the past and the present collided, and somewhere in there he faintly heard Rogue shrieking his name as his head smacked against the polished gym floor and everything went black.

When he opened his eyes an undetermined number of hours later, it was to the glaring fluorescent pot lights of the med bay and Jean’s upside-down face giggling over him. He sat up on the examination table, almost hitting his head on the lights hanging over him. The room spun around him, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“What the fuck, Jean?” he said, his voice dry and cracking. “You didn’t tell me anythin’ about her skin.”

Jean smiled innocently. “Well, I told you she was untouchable.”

“Yeah, you said untouchable. Not ‘enough mega-wattage to power an entire freakin’ continent’.” Logan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus. Felt like she almost killed me.”

“Yes, well if you’d molested her any longer, she probably could have,” Jean said, almost snorting in her attempt to contain her giggles. His stern stare only seemed to make Jean’s fight all the more difficult, and she finally gave in, laughing loudly.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Logan said.

“Oh, but I am,” she said. “'Like candy, Jean. From a baby.’ Who’s the baby now?”

Logan watched, unamused, as she doubled over in mock fetal position, imitating him on the floor of the gym. She straightened up after a few moments of laughter, clearing her throat to calm the last chuckles. He narrowed his eyes at her as she approached him, a knowing glint in her gaze.

“What did she do to me?” he asked.

She came to stand before him, filling the space between his legs, and reached a hand out, slowly walking her fingers up one of his arms. “Why don’t you go ask her?” she said.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Logan said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against his body. “How about you and I call off this silly bet, I fuck you right here on this exam table, I go fuck the girl anyway, and then I piss the hell outta this place for good?”

He pulled her in for a kiss, but she lifted her hand to his lips just before they made contact.

“Now, now, Logan,” she whispered. “Rules are rules.”

He growled impatiently against her fingers, enjoying the veiled reaction it drew from her.

“In the meantime,” she said, her warm breath on his lips, driving him mad with need, “I suggest you go shine up that bike.”

“And I suggest you go buy yourself somethin’ black and lacy,” he said.

Jean smiled demurely as she stepped out of his space. She gathered up her charts and headed for the door of the med lab.

“Happy hunting, Logan,” she said, turning back to him for a moment. Then she swung the door open, and stepped out.

xxXXxx

That night, he found himself in an unusual predicament: horny as fuck and no pussy in sight.

He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets twisted all around him. Frustration swirled inside of him as his aching erection pressed insistently against the seam of his sweatpants. Christ fuck, he felt like a goddamn fifteen year-old. As much of a fifteen year-old as he could imagine, anyway, since he’d never actually remembered being one.

He needed to get laid. Soon.

It was such an unusual situation, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in it. On any other night like this, he would simply call Kristie or Shannon over for a little fun. But he couldn’t do that tonight, could he? Not when he was supposed to be courting an awkwardly-hot-barely-out-of-her-teens girl so that he could fuck an undeniably-hot-redhead, and all so that he could have the ultimate satisfaction of screwing Scott and this place once and for all.

Of course, thoughts about how Kristie or Shannon couldn’t come over only led to thoughts of Kristie and Shannon in general, which led to him not being able to not think about that amazing thing Kristie could do with a shot glass – or was that Shannon? – which led to…

Logan growled, low and deep, as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his ever constricting sweatpants and shoved them down over his hips. His erection all but sprang into his hand as he wrapped his fingers tightly around the hot, thick length of it. He gave himself a firm squeeze, hissing in pleasure as a small drop of milky liquid escaped the head and dribbled down over his knuckle.

His hips rocked up from the bed as he thrust into his hand, grunting in pleasure as the silky lubrication coated the entire shaft. The bed springs protested beneath him, groaning and squeaking as his hips found their own wild rhythm.

His mind was a whirring kaleidoscope of images and sensations as he stroked himself closer and closer to ecstasy: torn fishnet stockings, smeared lipstick. The soft mounds of a woman’s breasts filling his hands as the excited nipple stabbed into his palms. Strong legs wrapped around his thrusting hips, wanting him deeper. Deeper. A pleading moan, hot breath against his ear, fingernails digging into his lower back, and then…

“Grr!”

Logan turned onto his stomach and ground his hips down into the mattress, squeezing himself firmly in his hand as he thrust with abandon. He felt himself quickly approaching the point of no return, and his mind flipped to the set of images he almost always used to bring him over: impossibly long legs, stilettos digging into his calves as he pumped into her yielding flesh, a tumble of…dark brown hair?

He found his thoughts going there before he could stop them. Somewhere in the logical part of his mind, he knew that the idea of screwing Rogue now should be about as sexy to him as licking an electrical socket, but the animal in him knew only of the sudden charge of hot desire it sent burning through his loins. He stroked himself furiously as his mind flooded over with the sensation of silk-gloved hands roaming all over him, his teeth sunk into the flesh of her neck, her whimpers and moans beneath him as a bolt of silver white hair tickled at his chest, his tongue running over all of that sweet, pale, deadly skin…

He growled loudly as the room around him seemed to go all white, nothing registering in his brain but the sensation of his climax bursting forth. He came violently, roaring into his pillow as his hips shuddered beneath him, an orgasm so intense he felt like it had been ripped from his toes. He lay there on his stomach for a few long moments, breathing heavily into his pillow as he tried to gather his senses.

When he’d caught his breath, he turned lazily onto his back again, feeling sated and calm. Within minutes, blissful sleep was wrapping around him, and he drifted off to dreamland with a smile on his face.

He knew what Rogue wanted now. And tomorrow - after he’d found her, let her know he was okay – he was going to give it to her.

When he went to find Rogue the next day, she was in the library stacks again, only this time she wasn’t alone. After checking to see that the coast was clear, he slipped unseen into the aisle next to hers, quietly creeping along until he reached the section where she stood talking quietly to one of her classmates.

He saw her gloved fingers moving over the tops of the books, absently searching for the right one even as her attention was directed elsewhere. Every so often, she would tilt a book toward her, decide it was the wrong one, and then slide it back into place, whispering all the while in hushed conversation.

He continued to inch along the bookshelf, following her until she finally settled on a thick textbook with a green hardcover. Just as she was about to pull the book, he reached through the space between the shelves and yanked it over to his side, letting it drop to his feet with a loud flap. Before she could figure out what was happening, he grabbed her hand in his and pulled it through the empty space.

She gasped and looked over quickly, her eyes meeting his through the books. He watched as several emotions flickered across her gaze, all within a matter of milliseconds. Surprise. Confusion. Relief? Then, finally, annoyance when she tried to snatch her hand back and he wouldn’t let her.

“Are you okay?” he heard her friend whisper to her.

“Um…yeah,” Rogue said, turning back to her conversation. “I just dropped a book back here somewhere.”

She tried to pull away again, but he grasped her wrist with his other hand, holding her in place. He saw her reach for another book with her other hand, tilting it forward in front of her in an apparent attempt to keep her friend from seeing what was going on.

Logan listened as she tried to casually continue her conversation. Slowly, he began to massage her wrist, rubbing intently through the satin until he felt her relax a bit, stop fighting him. He pulled her arm closer to him and pressed his thumbs into the fleshy base of her palm, kneading there until her fingers loosened up around his.

He heard her breath catch in her throat as she tried to concentrate on what she was saying. He continued to work his thumbs into her palm, squeezing small, slow circles, molding the flesh in his hands. When he got to her fingers, he began to massage them one by one, pulling them slowly and deliberately between his thumb and forefinger from base to tip.

She was barely holding on to her conversation at this point, repeating things she’d said only moments before and searching for words that should have been easy to find.

Moving back down to her palm, Logan began to trace slow, lazy shapes into it with his thumb. A teardrop. A figure eight. A spiral. She’d surrendered her arm completely to him now, the once tense flesh now soft, pliant, and yielding. Her breathing was scattered, and Logan could all but feel the quickly rising heat of her body through the books separating them.

He pulled her hand up to his mouth and traced her fingertips over his lips, breathing against them until she could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of her gloves. She let out a slight sigh, and through the books, Logan saw her eyelids flutter slightly as she fought to keep her focus.

There. Right there. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t want him to touch her. The problem was that she did. Too much. And that scared her.

He waited while Rogue finished her conversation and said goodbye to her friend. Now alone in the aisle, she met his eyes silently, and he released her hand so he could walk over to meet her on the other side. He came to stand before her, hands shoved in his pockets. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. It was Logan who broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said. “If I hurt you.”

“Me too,” she said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “When I didn’t see you last night at dinner, I thought you --…I thought…”

“I heal.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” she said with a nervous smile.

“So what the hell happened, anyway? I mean, when we…?”

“Well…it’s kinda hard to explain, really,” Rogue said, looking down at her gloves. “The professor’s not really sure how it all works, but so far what we know is that when I touch someone, I absorb their ‘life energy’, or something like that. I get their muta-…their gifts, along with thoughts and memories.”

“Memories? No shit.” Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“So…” Logan tried to look unaffected as he brought a hand up to rest against the bookshelf. “When I touched you, what did you…?”

“Oh, nothing!” she said quickly. Then at his obviously confused expression, “The professor’s been teaching me to put other people’s thoughts and memories into a kind of mental lock box. It keeps me from having to live with other peoples thoughts clouding up my brain all the time.”

Well I’ll be damned, Logan thought to himself. Turns out the old man is good for somethin’ after all.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “I don’t want to know about your personal thoughts any more than you want me to.”

He breathed an internal sigh of relief. “So you didn’t see anything.”

“No,” she said. A slow blush started to creep over her features. “I mean…I caught a few surface thoughts, sensations and such. I know about your…’gifts’. And I know about the…the, uh…”

“These?” He slid his claws slowly out from the hand he had up against the book stack.

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes flickering over to the adamantium blades extending from between his knuckles. “Those…”

Logan studied her as she assessed his claws, not a goddamn ounce of fear in her gaze or in her scent. In fact, if he was seeing things right, there was almost even a glint of fascination in those curious brown eyes of hers. And Christ if that didn’t get him hard right there and then.

“So that’s why you won’t go out with me,” he said. “Cause of your skin.”

“Well, it’s kind of a major issue,” she said, eyes dropping to her gloved hands.

“Yeah?” He reached forward with his free hand and took the scarf she wore around her neck between his fingers. He drew the feather-light material across her mouth and swept his thumb over her lips. “Says who?”

She breathed a warm sigh against his finger, and her head tilted back to rest against the bookshelf, eyelids fluttering closed. Logan continued to caress her mouth through the thin fabric for a few moments, letting her enjoy the sensation a bit.

Her eyes opened again to meet his, a look of drunken pleasure in her gaze. She seemed to come back to her senses a bit as her eyes darted to his claws, which he was slowly sheathing again.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, concern suddenly filling her voice. “I mean, when you…?”

He stepped forward until he had his body pressed up right against hers. Thumbing her lip again, he leaned down until his mouth brushed against her ear through the fall of hair protecting it.

“Only the first couple of inches,” he said softly. “After that, I’m told it feels really, really good.”

He heard her swallow as he pulled back to look into her eyes.

“Lemme take you out tomorrow night,” he said.

“I…can’t. I have a –"

“No you don’t.” He smirked, watching her mentally scramble for another way out before ultimately giving up. “Pick a movie. I’ll meet you outside at seven.”

Logan pushed himself up from the bookshelf and turned to leave.

“I didn’t say yes,” she muttered under her breath as he walked away.

“You will,” Logan called over his shoulder to her. He smiled to himself as he left her standing in the stacks.

“Mmm. Oh...that’s just…marvelous.”

Rogue leaned her head back against the sofa cushion, eyes closed, her tongue licking over her lips. She brought a hand up and wiped her mouth on the back of her glove, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. She opened her eyes and tipped her beer can to his.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Happy to oblige, darlin’.”

She wasn’t your typical lady when it came to drinking a beer. In fact, she wasn’t your typical lady when it came to just about anything, be it her taste in films – the darkest, bloodiest, and grittiest one she could find – or the way she ate her Twizzlers while watching said film, twisting and curling them around her fingers before bringing them to her glossed mouth and pulling them slowly through her teeth.

Sitting next to her, an arm draped lazily over the back of the rec room sofa, Logan watched her as she brought the beer to her lips again for another deep gulp.

“You a virgin?”

“Wha—Whoa. How did we get to talking about that?”

“Dunno. Just did. Are you?”

She looked at him for a long moment. “If I say yes, will you stop trying to have sex with me?”

He thought about it. “No.”

She studied him, as though unsure whether or not he was being sarcastic. When she realized he wasn’t going to let her get away without answering, she finally acquiesced.

“Yes and no,” she said. “I guess it depends on how you want to look at it.” She looked down at her gloved hands, plucking at the pull tab on the beer can. “The first boy I ever tried to have sex with ended up in a coma for three weeks.”

"Shit. That's fucked up."

“If only that were the worst of it,” she said with a bitter laugh. “But no. The worst of it was…we were just getting into it, things were starting to feel okay and all…and then I started getting this rush of memories. His memories. With my best friend.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she said. She blinked down at her beer can. “And then when I was with Erik-“

She had to stop then, because Logan began to cough, almost spurting the beer he was drinking through his nose.

“Wait,” he said between choked gulps of air. “You and Magneto?”

“Oh, we never-...it wasn’t like that,” she said quickly. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“Not that I didn’t want it to be…"

Back to choking.

"I was young and in love," she said. "He seemed so brilliant and visionary…it turns out he was only using me to further his own agenda.”

He glared at her as she continued her story. He was pretty sure she was saying some other stuff about some machine and a diabolical plan, but truth be told she’d lost him somewhere around the time she mentioned ‘Magneto’ and ‘brilliant’ in the same sentence. From there, all he could think about was how much fun he was going to have helping her bang that maniac out of her system.

“…so unless you count mind-fucking,” she said, tuning him back in as she finished her story, “I guess you can say I haven’t had much success in the whole…sex department.”

She tried, unsuccessfully, not to look too bothered by that. Logan watched her silently for a moment, absorbing everything she’d just said. She leaned forward to set her beer down on the coffee table, and suddenly hissed a breath through her teeth, hand going to her neck.

“You hurt?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, though. I think I pulled something during training this morning,” she said.

“Turn around,” he said, setting his own beer down. “Lemme rub it out for you.”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that just sounds wrong.”

“Stop it. Seriously, it’ll make you feel better. I’ve got good hands.”

She looked at him, obviously trying to work out if he was being sincere or not.

“What’s the matter?” he said with a slow smile. “Afraid you might like it?”

“Kind of,” she said. “Yes.”

She looked into his eyes, hesitating for a few more moments, and then she exhaled and turned around. Just as he was about to start massaging her, she turned her head and gave him a sideways glance.

“You’re not going to get all horny from this, are you?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m always that way.”

“Yeah, I kinda get that vibe from you.” She rolled her eyes away from him. “Can’t figure out why.”

He began to massage her, pressing firmly into her neck and shoulders, working the tight knots under his thumb and fingers. He felt her immediately relax under his touch, and her eyes closed, head dropping down toward her chest.

“Oh, that feels amazing,” she said, all but purring her appreciation.

“Told you,” he said.

He continued to work her shoulder and neck muscles in circles, lingering there awhile before moving downward to the spot between her shoulder blades. She lightly hummed her pleasure for a few moments…and then she did something that made his hands stop mid-motion and an instant hardon spring up in his jeans.

She growled.

Not just any growl. His growl. And not an angry or vicious one, or any other type of growl she may have heard coming from him before. This was a totally different kind of growl. Like an ‘oh, that feels real good’ growl. The kind of growl that came out when…

He tilted his head at her. “Rogue…?”

She tensed up immediately, eyes open wide but not meeting his gaze. “Hm?”

“Where’d you get that growl, darlin’?”

She was quiet for a real long time, like she didn’t want to answer, but he was already putting the pieces together in his mind. He thought back to their conversation in the library the day before…the way she’d begun to blush when she insisted she hadn’t seen anything…

“Well…um,” she started, “Remember how you asked me what I saw when we touched?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”

“One of your thoughts didn’t quite…make it into the box,” she admitted.

He leaned forward.

“What…kind…of thought?” he asked.

She looked flustered. “I didn’t mean to see it, okay? It’s just…when you touched me, you were thinking about the way I smelled…that you were going to, um…” she turned bright red. “…‘file that scent away for later’…which kind of led to an image of you…”

Jesus.

“…in the shower…”

Jesus.

His mind spun as he thought about what she’d seen. He suspected he already knew the answer his next question, but she was squirming so deliciously now that he couldn’t bring himself to let her off the hook just yet.

“Why didn’t that thought make it into the box, darlin’?” he murmured into her ear.

For a brief moment, she looked like she was going to try to hedge him. The blush that had been on her face now extended well past the collar of her blouse, and he was pretty certain it continued all the way down to her toes. He smiled against her ear.

“I borrowed it,” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked absolutely mortified. “I’m sorry. I thought it might help. I’ve never…”

Jesus H. Christ.

He was pretty sure something had short circuited in his brain just then, as his mind overflowed with images of her pleasuring herself with thoughts of him in mind, a gloved hand – or maybe a bare hand - buried between her thighs, rubbing furiously at her sex as she whimpered his name, frantically seeking her own —

He must have been grinning pretty broadly just then, because she suddenly turned and gave him a hard whack to the shoulder.

“Just because I can’t touch, doesn’t mean I don’t have needs, okay? I get…’frustrated’ too, you know.”

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean-…”

He looked at her for a moment, biting back the growl that threatened to escape him as he registered what she’d just told him. She looked away, visibly embarrassed and began tugging at her gloves. Sitting there and watching her, he suddenly felt something spark up within him.

“Rogue…” He put a hand on her cheek, using her hair to shield him from her skin, and gently turned her face back to his. He couldn’t help a soft growl this time as her eyes met his, a look of pure vulnerability in her gaze. “Baby, I can show you what that feels like. For real, I mean. No strings. Just…”

He stopped then, maybe because he felt he didn’t need to go on, or maybe because something in her eyes just then was telling him he didn’t need to.

“I can do that for you,” he said. “If you want me to.”

And God help him, she didn’t blush a damn bit. Just looked back at him, her brown eyes all wide and deep and clear. And she nodded.

He shrugged himself out of his leather jacket and threw it onto the armchair next to them, then sat back against the sofa and patted a hand to his thigh.

“’C’mere,” he said.

She remained where she was for a few seconds, as though still pondering it, then she removed the jean jacket she was wearing and laid it next to his. She shifted on the sofa, swinging a leg over him and straddling his hips. Logan looked up at her as he placed a hand on her thigh, sliding it up slowly through her dark tights from her knee to the hemline of her skirt. She sighed as he kneaded her leg gently yet deliberately in his hand. Her eyelids drifted closed and she leaned toward him, head tilted slightly to the side as she pursed her lips together. She suddenly looked so innocent to him, so cute, and…

…and he couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

She slowly opened one eye, then the other. “Asshole,” she said, moving to get down from his lap.

“Quit it,” he said. “C’mere.”

He dropped the grin and took hold of her hips, settling her back down onto his lap. She looked down into his eyes again, the annoyance slowly melting from her gaze and giving way to dark desire as he reached for the edge of the scarf that was wrapped around her neck. She seemed to go completely still then, scarcely breathing, as he draped the scarf over her lips. He took her face into his hands and gently pulled her toward him until her mouth met his.

He started all slow and soft-like, pressing his lips tenderly to hers through the thin veil of her scarf. She returned his kiss tentatively at first, then exhaled a softly sighed breath, eyes fluttering closed. He slid a hand up into her hair and pulled her closer, coaxing her lips open and slanting his mouth against hers. She followed his lead as he kissed her deeper, his tongue probing gently, yet hotly and insistently against hers.

She tasted of beer, and a faint trace of strawberry Twizzlers, and beneath that, something…something else. Something sweet and delicate and delicious and all hers. Something that made him suddenly want to taste more of her, taste her deeper. He growled softly as she crushed her mouth against his, now returning his kisses with undeniable hunger as her arms slid around his neck.

He flattened his hands against her back through her shirt, rubbing her all over from her small waist to the base of her neck as she arched her body against his. Turned out not only did she want to be touched, the woman was practically starved for it. He let out a stifled moan as she pressed herself against him, her every curve seeming to mold perfectly to his tightly corded muscles.

“Oh, Logan…”

She let out a small, whimpered breath as he moved his mouth from her lips to her neck, nibbling and kissing his way down to her collarbone through her hair. Sliding his hands down to her hips, he encouraged her movements as she began to rock against him with a carnal urgency that had him painfully hard and hot as lava under his jeans. She ground down against him, seeking out more pressure. He rocked his hips up to hers, trying to give her what she craved, but the sofa cushions beneath them were too plush to give him any kind of leverage.

“Hang on, baby,” he said, his breath hoarse. “Lemme…”

He tightened an arm around her waist as he tossed the throw cushions out of the way, then he lay her down on the sofa. Before she could even inhale a shaky breath, he was on top of her, pulling her legs around him and grinding his hips down hard against hers. She cried out against his clothed shoulder and wrapped her hands around his biceps, fingers digging almost painfully into his muscles as he worked his hardness against her.

Christ, but she smelled wonderful, all sultry femininity and dripping desire as she rolled her hips up to meet his increasingly lustful movements. He slid a hand into her hair again and kissed her, fully and deeply through her scarf. With his other hand, he caressed and squeezed her everywhere he could reach, finally stopping at one of those marvelous breasts. She moaned and arched her back up until the soft mound filled his palm through her blouse. He needed to get closer to her. Needed to…

He pulled back from their kissing and reached over her to the armchair, pulling his jacket toward him. She watched him with liquid eyes as he dug into the pockets and pulled out a pair of leather motorcycle gloves. He tugged them on quickly, and then his hand was back at her blouse, fumbling with the buttons for a moment before impatiently tearing it open. He yanked one of her bra cups down and squeezed the soft flesh firmly in his hand, then dragged her scarf down over it and devoured it with his open mouth.

“Logan!”

He sucked the pink nipple into his mouth, licking greedily and then closing his teeth around it with just enough pressure to draw a delicious shiver from her. This made his pants tighten even more around his aching hardon, and he ground down hard into her again, moaning against her breast at the friction their bodies created.

With a ragged breath, he released her breast and sat up on his knees, hooking his thighs under hers so her legs splayed open over his. He took in the sight of her, hair all disheveled, shirt open with one breast exposed, skirt hiked up around her waist. A dark, animal desire suddenly engulfed him as he relished the picture before him.

“Take off your gloves,” he said.

She looked up at him, eyes widening with alarm. He growled impatiently.

“Take off the goddamn gloves, Rogue.”

She hesitated for a long moment, and then quietly pulled them off. He watched her as she lay below him, her hands now bare. She was so very vulnerable like this, and yet so powerful, all at the same time. It was a strange dichotomy that existed in no other woman he’d known before, and the thought of it sent excitement swirling wildly through his veins.

Her eyes flickered away from his intense gaze as she tried to figure out what to do with her hands. She tried to stuff them under her hips, but he stopped her, grasping her wrists firmly in his hands. He pulled them up to look at them. They were small, soft, and pale, nails painted midnight blue and bitten down almost to the quick. And they were, quite possibly, more alluring to him in that moment than any pair of breasts, nipples, or ass cheeks he’d ever laid eyes on.

A low growl rumbling in his chest, he lay down over her again, trapping her hands against his chest as he crushed her mouth under his. She kept her hands curled into tight fists against him for a moment…then, as their kiss deepened, she relaxed, opening them up and letting them roam all over his chest and shoulders. She eventually slid them up and around him, fingers slipping into his hair.

He groaned at the sensation, sliding his hands under her hips and pulling them up to meet his thrusts. She was grinding shamelessly against him now, demanding more. He slipped a hand down between their bodies and rubbed his fingers against her crotch, all warm and damp with desire through her tights. She cried out against him as he stroked his thumb skillfully over the excited pearl of flesh nestled between her swollen lips.

The smell of her desire was heavy and thick all around him now, making his head spin with lust. He slid his hand up to the waistband of her tights and dug around underneath them, pulling at the side of her panties.

“Baby,” he breathed, “I need to…I’m gonna cut these off, okay?”

“Okay.” There was a puzzled look in her eyes. “But…you can take off my tights. I mean, you’ve got clothes on. And you’re wearing gloves.”

“I’m not gonna use my hands, darlin’,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. Then she thought about it. “Oh.”

That adorable blush was back again as she fully registered what he meant to do. He cut the seams of her panties, then yanked them up and out of her tights. Before she could protest, he moved down her body and hooked his arms under her legs, then buried his face between her thighs.

She growled a low, lusty sound and arched her hips up sharply from the sofa, her thighs clamping tightly against his ears. He groaned against her, mercilessly devouring her sex, and…Jesus, she really did taste that sweet everywhere. He flattened his tongue against the tight knot of nerves at her center, laving at her in tight, small circles, forcing a keening cry from her. Fuck, she was going to wake up the whole damn mansion. Face still nestled between her legs, he felt around the floor with one hand and picked up one of the throw cushions in his fist. He tossed it up at her and she instantly wrapped her arms around it, pressing it to her mouth and moaning loudly into it.

More. She needed more. With a growl, he ripped a hole in the crotch of her tights and dug two gloved fingers up into her. He slid them in and out of her as she squeezed violently around them, her muffled cries growing louder still. He found that soft, spongy spot on the front wall of her sex and curled his fingers against it, working it with a deliberate scooping motion that made her hips curve up to him in a way that was even less ladylike than how she chose her movies or drank her beer.

His jeans were painfully tight now, and soaked with his own excitement as he ground his erection into the cushions beneath him. He knew he had to sound utterly pathetic, whimpering like a wounded dog as he humped away at the sofa, but he didn’t care. Didn’t even care if he died right there and then, suffocating against her sex while her thighs squeezed around his neck. All he cared about in that moment was her impending release, a release that was coming hard and fast if the suddenly desperate movements of her hips were any indication. She trembled violently against him just then, heels digging into his back as her inner muscles clamped down around his fingers. She let out a long, low moan into the cushion.

“Oh, that’s it baby,” he said, his voice reduced to a shaky, desperate whine. “Come on Rogue, let it happen.”

She froze up against him, a low growl escaping her throat. She was going to come. NOW. He disentangled himself from her legs and quickly moved up to lay over her, grabbing the cushion she held and throwing it to the floor. He needed to feel her all around him when it happened. With a lust-filled groan, he bore his hips down hard against hers, smothering her lips with his.

He kind of grunted into her mouth, struggling to keep his own release from rushing forth as she quivered against him. Her fingers dug to his biceps again, and then she let go, shaking and shuddering all around him as her climax took over. She gasped desperately against his shoulder as he held her tight, the animal in him raging with pride as he wrung her release from her. He rocked his hips gently against hers, riding out the last waves of her desire.

He looked down at her, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. A joyful tear slipped from the corner of one of her closed eyelids, and he had to fight the sudden instinct to lean down and lick it away.

“Oh-h, Logan,” she gasped. That was…wonderful.”

Wonderful? More like fucking phenomenal. He watched her silently as she gathered her senses, trying to slow his own panted breath as his arousal strained against his jeans. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, drowning him in desire. Moonlight streamed through the window, falling over her delicate features and illuminating that striking bolt of platinum hair that framed her face. Looking at her then, he was certain he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. A more beautiful woman. And he was the first one to make her feel like this. The only one.

Mine.

Gently, he pulled her scarf across her face again, and swept the back of his finger over her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, sucking gently at her lips until she opened up for him, allowed him to kiss her deeper. Her bare hands came up to tangle in his hair, and her hips began to move under his again as he strained against her.

“One sec,” he whispered, pulling back from her a bit. “Lemme get a…”

Still laying over her, he fumbled around on the floor for his jacket. Once he located it, he pulled it to him and dug a hand into the inside pocket. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open.

Rogue looked up at him. “What are you…?”

He looked down at her as he finally found the foil-wrapped packet and slid it out of his wallet. With his free hand, he brushed his thumb over her lips.

“I’m gonna make love to you, baby,” he said.

He brought the packet up to his teeth. She suddenly tensed beneath him.

“No, wait,” she said. “I can't…”

Grr. “What?”

He searched her eyes, trying to understand. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead remained speechless for a few moments. She blinked up at him.

“I--…I’m sorry.”

He growled, rolling off of her. “Jesus, Rogue, what the fuck are you tryin’ to do to me?”

He stuffed the condom into his back pocket and stood from the sofa. He picked his boots up in one fist and sat down on the armchair to pull them on.

“It’s not like I’m not attracted to you,” Rogue said, standing up from the couch. “I am. A lot. And…and what we just did was really nice, it’s just…”

“What?” he said, standing up. His eyes burned into hers. “What’s the problem, then?”

She looked at him, eyes glistening as she considered her next words.

“I…I look at you,” she said, “And I wonder why you would want someone like me. Someone you can’t touch. And…and then I see the way you look at Dr. Grey, and—“

“Oh, bullshit,” he said, picking up his jacket. “This has nothing to do with Jean or your skin, and you know it. This is all about you not wantin’ to let yourself get close to anyone.”

She looked back at him silently, eyes shining with tears, and he knew his words had hit home.

“God, you are such a hypocrite,” he said, his voice shaking. “You go around waxin’ poetic about how you just wanna be able to touch someone, well I’m here Rogue. I’m here, and I wanna touch you all over, but you can’t see past your own goddamn fear long enough to let it happen.”

He walked over to her and snapped her hand up in his. He pulled it up and pressed it against his chest.

“You want this,” he said. “You want me. I can smell it all over you every time you’re around me, and it’s driving me insane.”

He watched her, waiting for her to change her mind. She opened her mouth to speak, bottom lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Logan threw her hand down and turned to leave the rec room. He got to the door, then paused and turned back to her.

“Y’know, I read your damn book." Okay, the Cliff’s Notes. But still. “And you wanna know what I think? I say it doesn’t matter whether it was love or lust. At least Juliet wasn’t afraid to take a chance on Romeo, which is a whole hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”

He caught the flash of hurt in her eyes as he said it. He turned to leave then, storming loudly up to his room and slamming the door behind him. He threw his jacket down and flopped his heavy body down onto his bed. He twisted over and drove his fist into his pillow a few times, then buried his face angrily into it.

‘I want to make love to you’? What the fuck was that?

He didn’t want to think about how he’d said that to her. He especially didn’t want to think about how he’d felt as he said it; like he was jumping from an airplane without a parachute, or balancing on a high-wire with no net below to catch him. He decided right then and there that he would never let himself feel like that again. Fuck her. Fuck Jean. Fuck this whole goddamn place.

He turned over onto his back again, yanking the sheets up over him. They only ended up annoying him more, and he kicked and bucked them away, tangling them around his limbs. He stared up at the ceiling for a really long time, trying to calm the animal raging within. Twenty minutes later, the rage still hadn’t subsided completely, but it at least abated enough for him to get a chance at some sleep.

He exhaled deeply, trying to relax as much as possible so he could fall off into slumber. He was just about there, eyelids growing heavy, when his ears suddenly pricked to attention, catching the faint creak of the floorboards in the hallway.

He lay still and silent, identifying his visitor’s scent, and listened as her bare feet padded softly toward his bedroom. There was complete silence then, as he lay barely breathing and she stood motionless outside his door.

After what felt like an unnaturally long pause, he heard the doorknob turn. He looked over to the door as it creaked open. Rogue stepped in cautiously, meeting his eyes as she slowly clicked the door shut behind her. He sat up on the bed, lowering his feet to the floor.

She wore nothing but a pink nightie, long enough to leave a few things to the imagination, but sheer enough to reveal a lot more. He raked his eyes over her as she stood nervously before him.

Go back to you room, kid, the man in him tried to say. This isn’t where you want to be right now.

The other part of him, however, had an entirely different idea. He felt a shiver of reptilian instinct crawl up his spine as the animal growled louder and louder, drowning out the man.

Fuck her.

Fuck Jean.

Fuck this whole goddamn place.

His decision was made the moment she brought a hand up to slip one of her nightgown straps over her bare shoulder. He was up from the bed and across the room in a flash, grabbing her roughly and yanking her against him. He twisted a hand up into her hair, turning her face up toward his until she squeaked. He pulled the edge of her nightie up over her lips and then bore his mouth down onto hers, prying it open with his tongue. She gasped against him, trying to return his feral kisses, all growls and moans and sharply nipping teeth.

She stumbled for her balance as he backed her up toward the wall. He reached down and hitched her legs up, clamping them around his hips as he pinned her to the wall. His mouth moved to her neck, sucking and biting hungrily through her hair. He felt her pulse against his tongue and growled, sinking his teeth into the pale flesh. She shrieked loudly as he drew blood. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. He was through being nice and quiet about this. All he had in mind was to take her hard, fast, and as loudly as possible up against that very wall. He shoved a hand down between their bodies and slid the tip of a claw from between his knuckles.

“Hold still, Rogue,” he growled through clenched teeth. He cut a slit into her nightie, then released himself from his jeans and hastily rolled on a condom. He was just about to press into her slick warmth when she whispered something to him, stopping him in his tracks.

He trembled against her as the single word cut through the fog of lust in his brain. He pulled back and looked at her. “What?”

“My name,” she said quietly. “It’s Marie.”

He looked into her eyes, all brown and deep and glistening with moisture as they held his gaze. For what seemed like an eternity, he just stood there, his body pinned against hers as they looked at each other in silence. Finally, he released her legs from his grip, letting her slide down until her feet reached the floor, and stepped back from her.

“Get out,” he said.

Her eyes went wide as she looked up at him, her mouth dropping open. Her bottom lip trembled. "Wha-"

“I said get out. Go.”

He watched her with steely resolve as tears sprang to her eyes. She looked away silently and pulled her nightgown strap back onto her shoulder. She turned to the door and opened it, then hesitated for a few seconds, her back turned toward him. When he didn’t stop her, she stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind her. He listened to her angry footsteps as she ran down the hallway and disappeared down the stairs.

With a roaring growl, he balled his hand into a tight fist and slammed it into the wall. The plaster crumbled around his knuckles, jagged edges scraping through the skin until it bled.

It didn’t hurt enough.

He pulled his fist from the wall, shook his hand out, and went to the door. He ripped it open and tore down the hallway toward the stairs. On the way he passed Jean, who was leaning against the door-frame of her bedroom, cutting slices from an apple with a paring knife.

“Vroom, vroom,” she said when he stormed past.

“Eat a dick, Jean,” he called over his shoulder.

He thudded down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Once there, he opened up the dish cabinet and pulled out a glass tumbler. He slammed it down onto the counter and went to the pantry, digging around for the bottle of scotch he’s stashed there earlier. Fuck the glass, he suddenly decided, twisting the cap off the bottle. He brought it to his lips and took a long swig of the amber liquid, relishing the burn of alcohol as it slid down his throat.

He didn’t even bother to turn around when Jean’s scent floated into the kitchen. He heard her bare feet sticking and un-sticking on the tiles as she crossed the room and came to stand behind him. Logan took another long, burning swig from his bottle.

“You know, you really shouldn’t take this as a measure of your prowess,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. She slid a gentle hand up his arm from his elbow to his shoulder. “It’s not your fault she’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

She tilted her head, trying to see his eyes. He wouldn’t let her, and soon began to feel the tingle of her mental fingers probing his mind, searching around in there for what went wrong.

“Oh,” she said quietly, after finding what she was looking for. “You too?”

He said nothing, simply brought the bottle up for another gulp.

She exhaled a soft breath, lifting her chin from his shoulder. He felt the heat of her body leave him as she turned and moved toward the counter. “What is it about this girl?”

There was a strange tone in her voice as she said it. No anger, no sarcasm, just…a genuine inability to understand why someone would be attracted to Rogue. And beneath that, he picked up the slightest hint of sadness. Was that right? No, it wasn’t quite sadness. It was something else. Something distant...empty.

He turned to look at her as she lifted herself onto the counter and sat on the edge.

“Is there some point to you being down here right now?” he asked her.

“Of course there is,” she said. A smile began to pull at her mouth as she reached for the sash of her silk dressing gown, pulling it slowly out of its bow. Her robe slipped open, revealing a completely naked Jean underneath.

“I came to offer you a consolation prize.”

Logan slowly walked toward her, bottle in fist, his eyes sweeping over her bare flesh. “Is that right.”

“That’s right,” she said, eyes twinkling as he came to stand between her dangling legs. She leaned back slowly until she lay down fully on the counter, her long red hair splayed across it as her robe fell away completely.

He set the bottle of scotch down on the counter and looked down at the naked woman splayed out before him. An unusual feeling crept over him then…a realization that something definitely wasn’t right with her. Maybe he didn’t want to see it before, thinking that she deserved to let her hair down a little after all she’d supposedly been through the last few months. Maybe it was simply that his dick had been too hard for her. Whatever it was, he suddenly felt as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes, and he was finally seeing things the way he should have all along.

“What?” she asked, the smile fading from her lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Somethin’ the professor said,” he said, mumbling more to himself than to Jean. “On the phone, when I was away. Said you might be…different.”

“You’re being cryptic,” she said. She looked up at him with eyes that had darkened to two black pools. “Am I going to have to read your mind again?”

That uneasy feeling was back, creeping slowly up his spine as he looked down into her eyes.

“We almost destroyed a young woman, Jean. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes growing blacker still. He almost felt like he was being pulled into them.

“Logan, I’m impressed,” she said. “Since when do you have a conscience?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Question is, since when don’t you have one?”

They stared at each other in silence. When she didn’t answer, he picked up the bottle of scotch and moved to leave.

“Wait,” she said, legs wrapping around him to prevent his escape. She slid a calf gently up his thigh until it curved around his hip. “What about your consolation prize?”

Logan set the bottle back down onto the counter. He let his eyes rake over her slowly from the soft, red curls at the apex of her thighs up to the full mounds of her breasts. Placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, he leaned over her, his nose following the path that his eyes had just traveled. He stopped just below the pulse point at her neck, taking a few moments to breathe in her arousal.

“You know what you can do for me, sweetheart?” he murmured against her.

“What’s that?” she purred.

“I want you do go down to the garage and get on the bike…”

She smiled in anticipation of his next words. "And then...?"

“And then I want you to fuck yourself with it,” he said. “I’m done.”

Her mouth fell open as he pushed her legs away from him. He snatched up the bottle of scotch and turned to leave.

“Logan,” she called to him as he left the room. He didn’t turn back. She tried again, in a not so nice way. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked into his mind.

~ Logan! ~

He spent most of the next day engaging in cat-and-mouse with Jean, pitting his heightened senses against her telepathy in a race to get to Rogue first and tell her about the bet. He couldn’t find her, despite searching all of her usual haunts and waiting outside of her classes, and it became clear to him that she was avoiding him. And at every turn, Jean was there, probing into his mind, and the minds of Christ knew who else, trying to find out where she was.

As much as he didn’t want to do it, he knew he had to tell Rogue the truth. She was going to be furious, would probably scream that she hated him…but then it wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard those words from a woman, so he could handle that. Maybe once she had a chance to cool down, they could wipe the slate clean, start over as friends. Maybe…maybe he could make her understand that it wasn’t all a game to him, not the whole time.

If he was completely honest with himself, he knew that the game had ended for him almost as quickly as it had begun.

He was in the kitchen making a sandwich after a particularly gruelling danger-room session when a familiar scent drifted into the kitchen. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking to attention as the intruder’s footsteps neared him. He turned just as she entered, big brown eyes sparkling under her white bangs.

“Lo-gan?” she said, smiling.

He knew that tone. And he knew that grin. And a feeling of dread suddenly started to creep over him.

“No,” he said.

The smile dropped from Ororo’s face as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask you.”

“Doesn’t matter. Answer’s still no.” He wasn’t in the mood to go out and get her a tub of Haagen-Dazs or pick up the latest issue of ‘O’ Magazine, or whatever the hell it was she wanted right now.

Not that he’d done that for her. Ever.

“I just wanted to know if you could—"

Ororo’s words were suddenly cut off by a booming thunderclap so forceful it rattled the windows and shook the ground. They both looked to the window as rain began to pour down in torrents outside, rapping loudly against the glass panes. Logan looked back to Ororo, eyebrow raised.

“See that?” he said, pointing a thumb to the window. “I’m like a lightning rod out there. Yeah, I’ll heal, but that shit hurts.”

There. Now she couldn’t make him feel bad, because it was the truth. Well…that, and he didn’t like thunder. Or storms. He went back to making his sandwich.

“Okay,” she said with a slight pout. “But if you did happen to go out…” she tilted her head and looked at him sweetly.

“Ro. I said forget it, alright? My ass isn’t goin’ anywhere tonight.” He picked up his plate and his beer and went to the table, kicking out a chair and then depositing himself heavily into it.

“Not even later?” she asked.

“No.” He took his sandwich up off his plate and bit into it.

She straightened a leg out in front of her, tracing imaginary circles on the floor tiles with her toe. “Are you sure?”

“For chrissakes, yes I’m sure.”

“Good,” she said, suddenly perking up. “Because we need a babysitter.”

His jaw stopped mid-chew as he looked up from his plate. Ororo bounced away, turning only to flash him a smile before she left the kitchen. He listened, teeth clenched, as the raging storm outside dried up to a slow drip.

Goddammit.

That night, he experienced what was perhaps the greatest humiliation he’d endured in all of the years he could remember: standing in as a chaperone at the school dance.

Fuck if he knew what made Storm think this was a good idea. He really didn’t give a rat’s ass how close anyone was dancing, couldn’t blame anyone for sneaking a hard drink, and sure as shit wasn’t gonna go break up those three kids sucking face behind the loudspeaker.

So basically, his evening thus far had consisted of him lurking in the dark shadows near the auditorium stage, wearing what he hoped was a really mean look on his face, and otherwise trying to conceal the fact that he really didn’t know what the hell else he was supposed to be doing.

Damn weather wench. Leave it to the Dateless Wonder to pick tonight of all nights to go on a motherfucking date. He hoped the circus freak was worth it.

It didn’t help his situation any that Jean was standing in the corner opposite him, obviously waiting for him to make eye contact and then tapping into his mind when he didn’t.

~ Logan, we need to – ~

~ Fuck. OFF.~

He reached into his jacket pocket for a cigar and bit off the tip. He lit it and took a deep draw, leaning back against the wall. Eyes drifting shut, he let the sweet taste of tobacco fill his mouth and tried to lose himself in the thumping vibrations of the music. He’d just about succeeded in doing that when his senses perked to attention and a scent he’d come to know all too well – a scent he’d been trying to find for over twenty four hours - drifted into his awareness. He opened his eyes and looked toward the door just as Rogue strutted into the auditorium, and his jaw went slack, cigar just about falling from his lips as he noticed what she was wearing…or rather what she wasn’t.

He let his gaze drag over the miles of bare flesh poured into a black mini that was cut entirely too low and too high, all at the same time. Her legs were bare, pale, and exposed almost to the crotch, feet strapped into heels so high she looked like she was teetering on a pair of goddamn stilts. Her full breasts had been stuffed into an immodest ‘v’, offering a scandalous view that continued all the way up to the choker strapped around her neck. She may as well have been naked, if not for her black opera length gloves, apparently the only modesty she’d been willing to afford herself. She’d topped the outfit with lips glossed cherry red, hair all teased or crimped or whatever it was the girls did to it to make it look big and full and wild.

As she floated nonchalantly past him, he couldn’t help but think that she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, rustled her hands through her unwashed hair, threw on the sluttiest thing she could find in her closet and headed out the door.

Which, in other words, meant she looked like a fucking goddess.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed either, if the suddenly spiking scent of male teenage hormones all around him was any indication. He watched their heads turn as she glided past them onto the crowded dance floor, making sure to brush ‘innocently’ against as many of them as possible on the way. A light squeeze on the arm here, a gentle hand on the lower back as she passed there. He could almost hear the wheels turning in the heads of the little perverts as their eyes savored her dress and how very little of it there was.

A shifting at the edge of his consciousness forced his attention back to Jean, who was taking steps in Rogue’s direction. He shot a hard glance at her.

Don’t you fucking think about it, Red.

She heard him, because she suddenly stopped where she was, arms coming up to cross defiantly over her chest. When he looked back to Rogue she was standing up near the speakers talking to that Cajun punk, who looked all too happy about the way her breasts mashed up against his chest as she said something in his ear. She pulled back slightly from him, a smile spreading on her lips as she turned and pressed her back to his front, hips swaying suggestively as she danced against him. Logan felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him, his blood bubbling to a boil as LeBeau’s hands came up to wrap around her, hands seeking, exploring her all over.

Logan let his cigar fall to the floor, crushing it under his boot as a deep growl rumbled in his chest. He knew what she was doing. She knew what she was doing. And she knew that he knew what she was doing. So why in Christ’s name did he suddenly feel like an awkward, sweaty-palmed teenage boy waiting for the hottest chick in class to look his way?

She didn’t, for the record. Not even once. And certainly not for his lack of trying, either. He knew she had to feel his eyes burning into her as Remy dropped his head to her neck, nose nuzzling her through her hair where her choker lay. The choker that conveniently hid the bite mark placed there barely two nights before. Logan's mark.

His patience finally snapped when he saw Remy raise his head slightly to catch Rogue’s earlobe between his teeth and give it a gentle tug. He stormed over to where the two were dancing and grabbed Rogue by the arm, snatching her out of the Cajun’s embrace and dragging her back toward the stage where he’d been watching her. She hurled a string of obscenities at him as he did so, words only he would be able to hear over the loud music as she struggled to release herself from his grip. When they got to the stage, he pulled her behind the stage curtains and drew the sheer white curtain liner over her. Before she could get her bearings, he had her gathered in his arms, mouth crushed against hers in a hungry, growling kiss.

She struggled against him as he held her tight, hands pushing fruitlessly against his chest as he dominated her mouth through the thin material. He slid a hand up into her hair, fingers twisting into it as he forced her still, and mashed his mouth against hers, tongue sweeping into her mouth and tangling with hers. He felt her moan against him then, body suddenly liquefying as her arms slid up around his neck.

He reached down and lifted her legs around him, then pressed her up against the wall, grinding his hips into hers until she could feel every inch of how crazy she’d just driven him. Their lips parted, and she leaned her head back against the wall, eyelids falling closed as the sensation. Logan moved his lips to her ear.

“I’ve been lookin’ all over for you, Rogue,” he said between panted breaths. “Been tryin’ to apologize.”

He pulled the curtain liner away from her face so he could see her eyes.

“So?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She looked deep into his eyes, considering his words. “You’re a dick,” she said.

“I know.”

He pressed his hips against hers again, waiting for her to accept his apology. She looked at him with steely silence, making him wait for it, driving him mad with anticipation. Then, ever so slightly, the corner of her mouth quirked. It was enough for him. Logan drew the edge of the curtain liner across her face and pressed his mouth to hers again. Her fingers knotted in his hair as she melted into the kiss, spiked heels pressing into his thighs. They needed to go somewhere. NOW.

“Baby,” he breathed, pulling back from their kiss, “There’s some stuff I need to say to you…”

“Me too,” she said, lips pulling into a smile.

“Okay,” he said. “But not here. Meet me-…”

They were going to need a place where they wouldn’t be disturbed, where she could scream and yell angrily at him without anyone hearing her… and then hopefully – if he played his cards right – he could take her somewhere else where she’d be able to moan and cry out his name.

“Meet me down in med bay. Ten minutes.”

She nodded, lips widening into a full smile as her eyes sparkled back at his. He leaned in for one final kiss before he gently released her and lowered her to the floor. He looked around the stage curtain to make sure no one was watching, then slipped quietly out of the gym and headed down to med bay.

He’d been waiting down there for almost ten minutes when it occurred to him that telling Rogue about a cruel bet in a room filled with sharp objects probably wasn’t the brightest idea. Coupled with her skin, and his healing factor notwithstanding, she could probably do some serious damage to him.

He leaned against the exam table and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he heard her heels clicking toward him. The doors to med bay slid open, and she entered, a smile of beaming pride on her face.

Logan straightened up as she came to stand before him. “Rogue, I—"

“Shhh…” she said softly, fingers coming up to touch his lips.

His words melted instantly on his lips as she touched him. Something was different. It took him a few moments to understand the sparkle in her eyes as she smiled at him, and then it struck him…she wasn’t wearing her gloves.

He looked at her, a million questions spinning in his mind but never quite making it to his lips…what, how, when….none of that mattered when he saw the look of pure elation in her eyes, the joy at finally being able to touch. He brought his hand up to cup her face, thumb caressing her cheek, and a wave of desire suddenly pulsed through him at the feel of her skin against his.

Her eyes filled with happy tears as she drew in a soft, shaky breath. “I don’t know how much time we ha-"

His mouth was on hers before she could finish, arms wrapping around her as he turned so that her back pressed against the exam table. He kissed her hungrily, voraciously, savoring the sweet taste of her as her hands touched and squeezed him everywhere she could reach.

Tomorrow. He’d tell her about the bet tomorrow. She would understand after tonight, and then it would be too late anyway. She would be his, completely, and then no one would be able to take her away from him. Not Scott, not Jean, not the professor…not even Logan.

He growled against her, swallowing her desperate moans as the animal took over. He pulled at the straps of her dress, almost ripping them out of their seams in his haste to touch and taste her all over.

“Unhh…Logan,” she moaned as he released her breasts from their prison, leaning down to lick and suck at the taut nipples. His hands slid under her skirt, cutting away her panties, and then he hoisted her legs up around his hips, lifting her onto the table. He absently pushed a tray of surgical instruments off the table, sending them clattering loudly to the floor, and then he climbed up onto the table, smothering her body with his as he lay over her.

“Logan…please…” she was murmuring, as his hands worked beneath the skirt of her dress, thrumming her to readiness. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, and he sat up just long enough to rip it off and toss it aside. His chest now bare, he lay down on top of her again, mouth capturing hers as he relished the feel of those fabulous breasts against him and then in his greedy hands. He tangled his hands in her hair as he moved his mouth to her neck, sucking and tasting her everywhere he could manage. Her hands slid down to his stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waist of his jeans before fumbling with his belt.

“Please, Logan…” she breathed against his ear, body arching hungrily up against his and threatening to send him right over the edge. All sorts of sensations and emotions were swirling through him all at once, making his head spin. The way she felt, the way she tasted, the way she’d teased and tortured him earlier…

He reached down between them and ripped the buckle of his belt open, then he yanked his zipper down and shoved his jeans down over his hips. He was lost to her now, groaning and growling against her as he pushed her dress up and gripped her thighs, wrapping them around him. He took himself into his hand and then bore his hips down onto hers, entering her in one swift thrust.

“Logan!”

She cried out against him, fingers digging into his biceps as he ground into her, and he had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from coming right there and then. She was tight, hot, and wet, gripping and squeezing all around him as she trapped him inside of her. He snarled, teeth closing gently around her collarbone as he pulled out of her halfway, and then he was shoving back into her, planting himself right up to the root.

“Oh, fuck…oh baby…”

His voice sounded desperate, distant, foreign to his own ears, the smell of her so deliciously thick all around him he could practically taste her in the air. Logan gripped her hips firmly in his hands as he began to rock into her with abandon, curling his hips back just far enough so that he could plunge into her again, deeper. She pushed and pulled with him, wrapping herself tortuously around him as the crescendo built between them.

She clamped her hands to his back, hips rolling up to meet his as he pounded into her willing flesh. He reached up and yanked at her choker, exposing the marks he’d left on her. Fingers twisting up into her hair, he pulled her head back and then covered the marks with his open mouth, sucking there until the unhealed wounds opened up again and began to bleed. She cried out, fingers scraping at his back as he slid a hand down to her hip, tilting her up to his strokes so he could hit just the right spots. His efforts quickly began to pay off as she suddenly shuddered beneath him. Her hands went to his hair, pulling it between her fingers.

“Oh, Logan…I’m…” Her eyelids fluttered as she erupted beneath him, her insides milking and squeezing him as her orgasm took over. Her legs squeezed around him, cementing him inside of her, high heels scraping at the backs of his thighs. The sensation of he heels pressing into him through his jeans was what finally sent him over the edge. He snarled, hips curling against hers as he pushed into her with quick, deep jabs.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth. “Oh Jesus…baby, I’m gonna come.”

The words had barely left his lips when a tingle shot up his spine, his release shooting forth with all the force of a freight train. He let out a yell of unbridled pleasure as it shook through him, rocking him right down to the core. His hips flexed and quivered on top of hers, straining to pump every last drop of him into her. He collapsed down onto her, panting heavily, and slammed a fist down onto the exam table.

“Goddamn, baby…” he breathed.

“You can say that again,” she said, between her own pants, drawing a chuckle from him. He pulled back to look into her eyes, brushing the back of his hand against her sweat soaked cheek. She brought a hand up to touch his cheek, and he leaned down to kiss her. When the final aftershocks of their releases subsided, he withdrew from her and took his weight off of her, turned over and pulling her into him until she snuggled blissfully into his chest.

“That’s not exactly how I wanted our first time to be,” he half-chuckled as she purred against him. She raised her head to look at him as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“It was perfect,” she murmured. She lowered her lips to his chest, placing kisses there through the soft curls.

“Yeah…” he whispered, eyes drifting closed. He was now completely spent, mind webbing over with drowsiness as he caressed her arm. “…perfect…”

“You said you wanted to tell me something…” she said with a sleepy yawn. “Whawazzit?”

Logan opened his eyes and looked down at her, stroking his fingers through her hair again as her heart beat softly and serenely against him.

“Nothin’ that can’t wait till mornin’, darlin’,” he mumbled.

It was the last thing either of them would say before they both drifted off to a blissful sleep.

He awoke alone the next morning, half naked and sprawled out across the exam table where he and Rogue had drifted off. He scrubbed a groggy hand over his face, then looked at his watch. It was early. He still had time to go and talk to Rogue before she went down to breakfast...and, more importantly, before she bumped into Jean.

He quickly tugged his clothes on, then headed up to Rogue's room. He paused outside of her door for a few moments, taking a deep breath as he collected his thoughts. When he was finally ready, he raised his fist and knocked.

There was no answer, so he knocked again. When he was once again met with silence, he opened the door and peeked his head in.

"Rogue? Darlin', you here?"

There was no sign of her, either in her room or the bathroom. He turned at the shuffle of movement behind him as a group of students began to head down the stairs. He noticed Drake in the group and went over, tugging him aside by the shirt.

Hey kid, you seen Rogue arou-"

His words were cut off as Bobby suddenly turned and launched himself at him.

"You bastard!” he yelled, fists swinging through the air. “You fucking son of a-"

"Whoa!” Logan stumbled backward a bit, only barely succeeding in stopping the kid from hitting him. He grabbed Bobby by the shirt collar and forced him, flailing and cursing, into Rogue's room.

He shut the door behind him and spun Bobby around, slamming his back against the wall to try and knock some goddamn sense into him. “Calm the fuck down kid. The hell are you blubberin' about? Where's Rogue?"

“She's gone,” Bobby said between panted breaths. “She left.”

“What do mean she left? Where did she go?”

What followed next from Bobby's mouth was a string of incoherent words, his anger twisting his sentences to the point that Logan almost couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Then Bobby began sputtering about some box that Rogue had looked into, and suddenly it all fell into place. Logan felt his heart sink as Bobby looked at him, eyes dark with disgust.

“She knows all about the bet you made with Dr. Grey,” he said.

“Shit,” Logan said under his breath, teeth clenched. He let go of Bobby's shirt and took a half-step back, fist coming up to press against his forehead as the situation sank in. “I gotta go find her.”

He turned and opened the door. Bobby stopped him just as he was about to step out into the hallway.

“Don't bother,” he said, the tone of his voice strangely ominous. Logan turned back. Bobby had his head leaned back against the wall, eyes staring emptily ahead. “She saw you with Dr. Grey last night.”

Logan stepped back into the room again and closed the door behind him. He took a step toward Bobby, eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”

“She saw you, Logan,” Bobby said. His voice was hoarse with rage. “That's why she looked at your memories. She saw everything.”

Logan lowered his brow, a growl thrumming in his chest. He was getting real fucking tired of being talked to in circles. “Kid,” he said. “The fuck are you even talking about? I wasn't with Jean last night, I was-...”

What happened to him in that next moment was something he thought only ever happened in fiction. The earth seemed to shift beneath him, his world spinning around him as the walls closed in, making it hard to breath. For awhile, it seemed all he could do was stand there staring dumbfounded at a clearly disgusted Bobby Drake, his mouth hanging open like a goddamn imbecile as the truth of what had happened the night before hit him.

He didn't even realize that he'd moved until he found himself on the other side of the room, the collar of Bobby's shirt once again twisted in his clenched fist.

“Listen to me,” he ground out, a growl rumbling in his voice. “This is really fucking important. You need to tell me where Rogue went, and you need to tell me right now.”

“I don't know. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.” Bobby's face contorted with hatred. "You sick son of a bitch,” he said, voice thick with tears. “I could kill you for what you did to her."

He shoved Logan hard enough to force him backward a few steps. Logan stared, stunned, as Bobby rolled his shoulders, and turned to leave.

He stood there, in the middle of Rogue's empty room, the blood in his veins running hot and cold all at the same time. His teeth clenched and he felt a blood vessel about to burst in the middle of his forehead. His hand curled into a fist at his side as he went to the door and ripped it open.

"Jean?” He stormed toward the staircase and barrelled up the steps. “JEAN! Where are you, you fucking cunt! I'm gonna kill you!"

Jean's eyes went wide as he burst into Scott's office, all but taking the door right off its hinges.

“Shh!” she hissed, quickly getting up from the desk and rushing past him toward the door. “Keep your voice down, the students will hear y--OW!”

She'd barely gotten the door closed before he had a hand wrapped around her upper arm, spinning her around to face him.

“Good,” he said, lips curled back in a snarl, and before he could stop himself, he had a hand clamped around her throat. Her eyes went wide as his fingers dug into her jaw. “I hope every last soul in this goddamn mansion hears what I have to say to you after the stunt you pulled last night.”

She let out a choked sound, struggling to free herself from his hold. He growled, holding her up until her high heels barely brushed the floor. Panic flickered across her face. “Log-”

Her eyes went very dark for a moment, and then he felt an invisible hand wrapping around his, peeling the fingers back and crushing them until he yelled out in pain. He let her go and she stumbled backward, coughing and gasping violently as she struggled to catch her breath.

The unseen hand squeezed around his, so hard he though the adamantium would break. He crumpled to his knees, snarling and growling as the pain ripped through him. Jean rubbed her neck, looking down at him with dark eyes as she subdued him.

“What do you want, an apology?" She said between raspy breaths. Logan looked at her in disbelief.

She straightened up and smoothed out her skirt. "Once you've had a chance to calm down from...all of this..." She paused to wave a hand through the air. “You'll see that everything worked out exactly the way it was supposed to."

He stood up from the floor, eyes narrowed at her. "For you. That's what you really mean, right?"

She blinked at him. “So...what, you're in love with her now?” When he didn't answer, she stood back, half-laughing her disbelief. “Give me a break, Logan. You didn't love her. You wanted to have sex with her, just like you wanted to have sex with me once upon a time. A lot of men would call what happened last night 'killing two birds'."

"Yeah?” The snarl was back in his voice as he stepped toward her. “So tell me, Jean, how was it for you?"

She tried to turn away from him.

“No,” he said, growling as he grabbed her arm. He forced her back until his lips skimmed her ear. I wanna know how it felt to you, gettin' fucked like that, knowin' that all I was seein' and tastin' and wantin' was her."

She ripped her arm out of his grip and spun to face him, the look of disgrace on her features telling him all he needed to know. Without speaking, she turned and went to the desk to gather up her papers.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?” Logan asked. He walked over to the desk and stood before her. “I'm askin' you woman, do you know what you've done?"

She looked up from her papers, eyes wide in disbelief. “What I'VE done? What about what SHE did to ME?" There was a shrill, tearful edge to her voice. "What about all of the months that I've been working to get things back to normal with Scott, only to have Little Miss Untouchable waltz in here and-"

"Hey, if you're lookin' for someone to blame for your problems, I suggest you start by lookin' in the mirror, sweetheart."

"Oh.” She stood back, a look of mock surprise on her face. “That's right. Because none of this is even a little bit YOUR fault, is it?" She threw her hands up into the air ."WOW...this is all just classic Logan. Once again the tragic hero. Well, News flash: I didn't come up with this bet on my own. You had a choice."

"You're right, I had a choice,” he said, getting right up into her face. “I chose her. And that just eats you right up, doesn't it?"

She glared back at him with dark eyes, face red and streaked with fury.

"You-..." He moved to strangle her again, but then snapped his hand back, fist balling tightly in his hair. His eyes stung with moistened rage. "You had sex with me. Without my knowledge or consent. You know there's a word for that, don't you?"

"Oh, so, we're going to trot that one out, are we?” She almost looked amused as she walked around the desk to stand before him.

“Tell me, Logan, who would ever believe you? I mean, it's not like everyone in this mansion hasn't already witnessed your humping my leg at one time or another. In fact..." Her hand slid up to her neck, rubbing over the spot where bruises would surely be appearing soon. “Things could have just as easily been the other way around."

Logan's eyes narrowed as he watched her hand move over her throat. "You wouldn't."

She took a step toward him, eyes steely and cold. “You know,” she said, "I really think that, given the circumstances, the best thing for you to do would be to just leave. And don't ever come back."

He took a step closer to her, nose inches away from hers. "You'd just love that, wouldn't you? Bein' rid of both me and Rogue so neither of us can screw up your perfect little life here."

There was a flash of something in her eyes as he said it, and he knew he'd struck a nerve.

"Tell you what, Red," he said, "You do what you gotta do. I'm just gonna have to take my chances."

He turned to leave. He was almost at the door when she said, "Wait."

He wouldn't even have bothered to turn around, except there was something in her voice, some tinge of regret that made his hand stop on the doorknob. He turned to look at her. Beyond the darkness of her eyes, there was a shimmer of something, a shadow of the Jean he used to know shifting there just under the surface. He turned to face her fully.

"You're not going to tell Scott, are you?"

He glared at her, mouth open in disbelief. He started to speak, then realized he really didn't have a fucking clue what to say. Instead, he just shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

He opened the door and moved to step out into the hallway, then suddenly stopped at the scene before him. He heard Jean's heels clicking behind him as she came to see what was going on. She pushed past a surprised Logan and stepped out into the corridor, where the entire student body appeared to be standing, lining the staircases, walls, and doorways.

"What is this?” She said, looking around at the students. “Why aren't you all down at breakfast?"

No one seemed to want to answer. Logan watched as dozens of pairs of eyeballs seemed to fix themselves tight on Jean. Finally, one of the younger students shifted toward Jean and tugged gently on her sleeve.

Logan looked on as Jean leaned down to let the girl cup a hand over her ear. Only Logan would hear the little girl's whisper:

“The intercom is on.”

Jean stood up slowly, her face sudddenly white as the sheets of paper she gripped in her hand. Logan followed her eyes as she looked back into Scott's office. Sitting atop Scott's desk, where she'd been preparing the morning announcements, the switchboard for the P.A. System was blinking green. And had been the whole time.

Logan looked at Jean and huffed out a half-laugh. “Whaddya know.”

Jean turned back to face the growing crowd outside of Scott's office. “All right, that's enough,” she said, voice unravelling with each syllable. “Everyone go back to breakfast. This was just a misunder-”

She stopped abruptly as her eyes fixed on someone in the crowd. Logan didn't need to follow her gaze to know who it was. He'd caught their scents just as quickly as Jean had gleaned their presence. Scott and the Professor. Home a day early.

He watched Jean's face as she turned even paler than she'd already been. A tear brimmed to the corner of her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek.

He didn't have time to stick around for the aftermath. He pushed past the crowd of dissipating students, only briefly locking eyes with a thoroughly stunned Scott and an enraged Professor as he made his way to the stairs.

“Scott, wait,” he heard Jean tearfully plead behind him as she rushed after her fiance.

He caught sight of Bobby, standing speechless and open mouthed at the top of the stairs. He grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall. Holding him still with one arm, he dug into his jacket pocket with the other and pulled out the memory card with the recorded evidence of his tryst with John. He slapped it up against the wall beside Drake's head.

“I'm gonna give you one last chance to help me make this right,” he said.

“Look, she doesn't want-” Bobby said quickly, then he stopped, eyes shifting to the memory card, then back at him. Logan raised an eyebrow.

Bobby exhaled, conceding. “She said something about...Anchorage.”

He was telling the truth. Logan let him go and let the memory card fall at his feet.

“Thanks, Kid,” he said, turning.

Then he bounded down the stairs, and left.

It took him just over two weeks to track her down at the tiny cabin she rented on the outskirts of Anchorage. Goddamn if the woman didn't know how to disappear off the face of the fucking planet when she wanted to.

She wasn't home the afternoon he showed up, so he quietly took care of the lock and let himself in to wait for her. He clicked the door shut as Rogue's familiar scent wrapped all around him. The cabin seemed even tinier on the inside than it appeared from the outside. Looked cozy, though. Looked...hers.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he turned around in the living room, looking for a place to sit. He'd barely settled on an old armchair when the sound of footsteps came up the walk, stamping off snow as they reached the door.

Logan stood from the armchair as the key turned in the lock. Rogue stepped in, holding the door open with her back as she struggled with a large brown grocery bag in her arms. Logan watched, almost unable to breathe, as she kneed the door shut and balanced the bag against it so she could pull off her mittens. Then with a triumphant breath, she hoisted the bag back up in her arms and turned around.

She froze the moment her eyes locked on his, and a tiny sound escaped the back of her throat, bag falling from her arms. It landed with a loud thunk, scattering groceries everywhere and sending a couple of cans rolling across the floor.

Logan held his hands up. "I just wanna-...Wait!"

She'd bolted back out the door before he could even finish. By the time he got outside and around to the back of the cabin, she was already halfway across the snowy stretch of field toward the ravine. He took off after her.

"Rogue!"

He could hear her panting as he caught up to her. He grabbed the hood of her coat, and she spun around, chopping at his arms as she tried to free herself.

“Let me go!” she yelled. He snatched her toward him and clamped his arms around her to control her thrashing movements.

"I just wanna talk to you for a minute," he said.

"I have nothing to say to you, you stupid son of a bitch!" she said. Seconds later, the inevitable happened. She twisted around in his arms and brought a knee up sharply, striking him square in the balls.

Okay. He deserved that. But hot fucking damn, did it ever hurt like hell. He growled, eyes filling with tears as the searing pain engulfed his entire body. Hand clapping over his crotch, he fell to his knees in the snow as Rogue pushed away from him and disappeared into the woods. He stayed there, helpless, until his healing factor started to work, then he stumbled to his feet and ran after her.

"Rogue, wait!" he yelled. He could see her up ahead. She must have been getting tired, because she'd slowed down, and he could see her breath puffing in short, visible clouds of air. When he caught up to her this time, he grabbed her from behind, but she kicked out one of his legs, throwing him off balance and causing them both to tumble to the ground. He got his legs wrapped around hers to keep her from kicking him in the nuts again as they wrestled in the snow.

"Get off me!" she shrieked as he shifted on top of her. Her fists swiped at his face. "Get-"

He let her get one good hit in before he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the ground on either side of her head.

"I thought it was you!" he said as she twisted against his grip. He shifted, above her, trying to make her look at him. "I thought it was you."

She stopped struggling and lay panting beneath him, face turned to the side. Logan continued.

"Look, I know I shoulda told you about the bet, all right? And I was gonna. But then she...you came to me and...you - she - could touch, and..." He clenched his teeth, eyes stinging with furious tears. "She did something. In my head, and...I thought it was you."

She swallowed and blinked, but still wouldn't look at him. There was a long silence as he panted on top of her, still catching his breath from the chase she'd given him.

"Jesus, Rogue, would you just say somethin' to me already?"

She finally turned her head to look at him. "I hate you," she said.

The words sliced through him like a cold adamantium blade. Not so much because he hadn't expected her to say it, because he had...but because he hadn't expected her to actually mean it. He'd been prepared for screaming and crying. Not cold calmness. Matter of fact.

"Give me five minutes," he said. She'd stopped struggling by then, so he let go of her wrists. "Five minutes, Rogue, that's all I'm askin', and then I'll be outta your hair for good."

She stared up at him silently for a moment, then gave him a hard shove, rolling him off of her. She stood and brushed off her jeans and coat, eyes fixed warningly on his. Logan sat up and watched as she turned and walked back in the direction of the cabin, boots crunching angrily in the snow.

He still hadn't moved by the time she reached the edge of the ravine. She stopped and looked back at him. "Well are you coming, or not?" she yelled.

Logan leapt to his feet and followed her.

"It started out as a game. But then things changed. I don't know exactly how or when, they just did. And I swear to Christ, Rogue, I never meant for you to get hurt in any of this."

She hadn't spoken at all while he was explaining. Just stared down at the tablecloth, tracing the pattern with her gloved fingertips. Behind her, a tea kettle tick-tick-ticked on the stove, the metal expanding as the water heated. She'd put that kettle on the moment they got back to the cabin, a move she'd made obvious was less about her wanting tea and more about her putting a time limit on their conversation. Logan glanced over at the stove as he waited for her to say something. Anything.

Finally, she looked up from the tablecloth. “Okay.”

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She gave a slight shrug. "Okay. I believe you."

And that should have been it. Right? Except there was something about the way she said it. Something in her her eyes. A deep kind of sadness. Funny feeling then, like something real heavy sinking down to the very bottom of his gut. He nodded slowly.

"But...you can't forgive me."

She looked at him for a really long time, then let out a long, deep breath. "What do you want me to say, Logan?”

She didn't sound angry or upset as she said it. She just sounded...tired.

“Everything you've just told me only confirms what I already know, which is that you're a master liar and manipulator. I mean, how am I supposed to know that you're not manipulating me right now? How do I know-"

She stopped abruptly and looked away, blinking. She scraped a hand through her hair and got up from the table, turning her back to him as she got a cup from the dish cabinet. Logan suddenly felt nervous as the water in the kettle started to simmer.

The words fell from his mouth before he could stop himself. "Touch me."

Rogue spun around. "What?"

Logan got up from the table and went over to her. He took her hand up by the wrist. "There's a lotta stuff I lied about, but how I feel about you isn't one of them," he said. He pulled at the fingers of her glove, loosening them. "The person I am when I'm with you. That's not a lie."

Rogue blinked in disbelief as Logan slipped off her glove. "Logan, this is crazy. I'm not going to-"

"I don't care if you have to kill me to get it all," he said, stepping right into her space. He pulled her hand up until her open palm was millimeters away from his cheek. For a second, he thought she was going to try to snatch her hand back...but then something in her eyes darkened, and she took a step forward instead. Her wrist tensed in his hand as her palm grazed his facial hair.

"Do it," he whispered.

She looked deep into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. He'd be lying if he said he didn't see his life – or at least the last fifteen years of it - flash before his eyes right then. There was a cold edge to her stare, a silent and yet crystal clear threat that she just might do it. But then something shifted deep in her brown eyes, softening...and she relaxed her wrist, gently shaking her head no.

"Okay," he whispered. He let go of her wrist. They stared at each other in silence as the kettle began a low whistling sound on the stove. Logan softly cleared his throat, shrugging his jacket back onto his shoulders.

"Well...that's all I came to find you for. That's what I wanted to you to know. And, uh... also to let you know that if you're thinkin' you might not wanna go back to the school...'cause of me...I'm, uh...I'm gonna be hittin' the road."

"Where are you going to go?"

"Dunno yet. Maybe someplace out west."

She nodded slowly. He wasn't sure how else he'd expected her to respond to that. Tell him she didn't want him to go? Climb into his truck and come with him? She didn't do any of those things. Just nodded. Eyes looking up at him all big and deep.

"Right. Well..." He tugged at the silver-white strip of hair at her cheekbone and pulled it across her lip so he could stroke it with his thumb. "Take care of yourself, kid."

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, watching behind him as he walked out of the kitchen and left the cabin. Outside, the sky had turned completely gray, and snow fell down from the clouds in big soft flakes. He shrugged against the cold as as he headed down the walk.

So that was it.

Maybe it wasn't ideal, but then no one ever said his life was a fairy tale. He didn't get the happy endings. His were the kind where he climbed back behind the wheel of his truck and headed back down that lonely road. Hit the cage fighting circuits for a while until he found another place to lay his head.

The kind where he'd never see Rogue again.

The End.

...

No. Fuck that.

He turned around at the end of the walk and went back up to the cabin door. He'd barely put his hand on the doorknob when it suddenly flew open and Rogue almost ran smack into his chest. She looked up at him, stunned, as the kettle steamed in the kitchen, unattended. Whistling on full boil.

She blinked, eyes filling with tears. "Don't call me Ki-"

His lips were on hers before she could finish, tongue sweeping over hers in one swift, hot movement that barely gave her skin time to react. Barely. She pushed against him just as the draw started, and they both gasped as their lips parted. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, as he stumbled dizzily into the cabin.

"Oh my God, are you OK?"

She caught him and pulled him inside, closing the door and leaning him up against it. He nodded, shaking off the effects of her skin. Her eyes sparkled up at him, lips turning up into a smile. Yeah. It was totally worth it.

She reached around him and pulled a sheer scarf from the hook on the back of the door, a meaningful look in her eyes. He lifted her into his arms, wrapping her thighs around him, and then lips and hands were everywhere squeezing and touching and caressing everywhere they both could reach. Logan stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his hands all over her as they kissed, from the curve of her perfect ass up to the base of her neck. She moaned and arched against him, teeth tugging insistently on his lower lip through the scarf. Christ, he had to get the...

“Hang on baby,” he said, reaching around her. He took the screeching kettle off the stove and fumbled around until he got the stove burner turned off. Then his lips were back on hers, tasting her hungrily as he carried her into the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed and he rolled on top of her, pulling her legs around him and grinding his hips down hard on hers. She responded with a lustful moan, fingers sliding up into his hair, making him shudder. He sucked in a ragged breath and sat up on his knees to help her pull her sweater up over her head.

When it was off, she helped him push off his jacket and shirt. Her gloved fingers slid down his chest and stomach, then hooked her fingers into his waistband, pulling at his belt.

"Rogue,” he said. “Baby, we don't have to -"

"I don't want to wait anymore," she said, sharply cutting him off.

Lookin' up at him in a way that meant business.

Okay, then.

She'd gotten his belt and zipper undone and was pushing his jeans as far down his hips as she could with him kneeling. The silk of her gloves brushed against his thigh, and his hardon pulsed, making her job even more difficult. Logan growled and quickly got up from the bed.

"Take off your clothes and get under the sheet, darlin'," he said pulling off his jeans. He got a condom out of his wallet. When she was ready, he got back on the bed, coaxing her legs with his knees as he knelt over her.

She drew in a shaky breath and held it as he slid the tip of a claw out and cut a slit in the thin bed sheet. Then he lay over her, forearms braced on either side of her head as he pressed his body fully down onto hers. He stayed there for a bit, looking down into her eyes, just rocking against her so she could get used to the feel of him. He waited until he felt her heartbeat steady and her body soften completely under his.

"Ready?" he whispered. She nodded.

He drew his hips back, aligning himself, and then pressed down, sinking into her halfway. There, he met some resistance. Her lips fell open and her body tensed up a little under him. He leaned down and pressed a few gentle kisses to her jawbone. She sighed softly, and her body relaxed again, and he sank himself all the way down to the hilt. He stayed there for a few moments, not moving, just letting her adjust to his girth.

She looked up at him questioningly, then tried to look between their bodies.

“Is it...are you...?”

“Mm-hm.” It was all he could manage between clenched teeth at the feel of her wrapped tightly around every inch of him. His jaw ticked as he tried to keep from moving. But then she looked up at him, gloved fingers stroking over his cheek, and her legs came up to wrap around hips, and the struggle was lost.

He wrapped a hand in her hair and withdrew halfway, only to thrust right back inside of her again, as deep as he could go. She responded with a throaty moan that sent shivers tingling down to the base of his spine. And then suddenly it was like something broke inside of him, something was bursting, and he couldn't contain it. This just felt so real, so good, so right. He slipped his hands under her hips, angling her to her thrusts as he began to move in and out of her in earnest. She gasped against him and gloved hands clutching his hair as he stroked into her again then again and again.

The heat spiked between them, and it wasn't long before her hips found their own excited rhythm, twisting and rolling up to meet his strokes. He slipped an arm around her back, pulling her up tight against him as her body began to shudder. Her breath was coming fast now, body warming in a full flush. She rubbed her body intently against his, seeking more, and more until...

“Oh, Logan!” Her eyes snapped open, fingers clutching at his back.

"Oh, that's it, baby..."

A couple more strokes and she was flying apart in his arms, and he could feel her all around him, clenching, and releasing in climax. He growled against her, riding her hard through the violent orgasm she was having. Christ, he'd wanted this to be all soft and sweet and good for her, but she'd done something in the midst of her climax, he couldn't remember what - she'd scraped real hard at his back, or bitten him or tore at the sheets - whatever it was she did sparked a signal to his feral instincts that she was trying to get away from him again...and then in a flash of sudden, primal lust, he had his arms hooked under her knees and was drilling her hard down into the mattress.

She sensed his urgency, because she only looked up at him with soft, dark eyes, gloved fingers knotting in his hair as she let him fuck her the way he really needed to. With full, deep, claiming thrusts, like he was trying to turn her inside out on every stroke. The feeling of finally being all the way inside of her, with all her defenses broken away, was so exquisite it made his eyes water. He couldn't get enough, didn't want to get enough. He just wanted to live here. Enveloped in her velvety, gripping warmth. Drowning in her scent and moans as her hands scraped at his back, and her teeth pulled on his lower lip through the scarf, and...

He gritted his teeth and growled. "Oh fuck. Baby, I'm gonna come."

He slid his hands under her hips again and pressed his knees hard down into the mattress, trying to find more leverage to pound into her. He managed a few more shaky thrusts before the world around him seemed to disappear and the familiar shiver of his impending orgasm shot up his spine. His orgasm was so intense he had to choke back a sob as he cried out against her neck. He bit his teeth softly into her shoulder as she twisted her legs around his, flexing against him, helping him wring out every last drop of his release.

"Oh, Christ," he breathed against her neck, collapsing on top of her. He twisted the bed sheet in his fist. He pulled back to look into her eyes. She sighed as he pulled the scarf over her mouth and leaned in for a long, deep kiss.

“Oh, Logan,” she gasped when their lips parted. She stretched out on the bed like a lazy cat as he sat up on the edge of the bed to take care of the condom. “I could do that, like...fifty times a day.”

“Whoa,” he said, chuckling. He lay back in bed and pulled her into his arms. “Let's see about surviving the next session first, huh?”

He couldn't remember ever feeling so spent. And yet so full, all at once.

She snuggled back against him as he tugged at her white streak.

“So.”

“What?”

“You think about it, yet?”

“Think about what?”

“Comin' back home.”

She turned her head to look at him, eyebrow raised. “Home?”

“Yeah.” He hadn't even really realized he'd said that. Just sorta came out. “Home. Y'know. Maybe give those losers another shot.”

She looked unsure. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Come on,” he whispered. “I'll take care of you."

She rolled her eyes up at him teasingly. "Promise?"

"Yeah,” he said. He stroked a finger over her cheek. “Promise."

She snuggled back into him, and he was just about to drift off into a nap, when he suddenly remembered something. He shifted on the bed so he could look at her. Feeling his stare, she turned. “What?”

"Mag-ne-to,” he said. “Seriously?"

She blinked up at him, speechless for a second. "He has a really big..."

Logan raised himself up on his elbow and glared down at her, waiting for her to finish. A blush slowly crept over her cheeks as she looked up at him, and he could feel a low growl starting to rumble in his chest. Her lips curled into a smile.

"...brain," she said.

She shrieked as he grabbed her and rolled her underneath him.

Oh yeah. This was going to be a LOT of fun.