Until you're resting here with me
by Cúthalion

I hurried down the stairs; the carpets were soft and thick under my feet, muting my steps. The nightlights were dim enough to hide me from anyone passing by at this hour of the night. The mansion was my partner in crime, a friendly cover for my secret.

Twenty minutes.

I had taken the fastest shower of my life, rinsing off the yearning and impatience of six long weeks, a long day full of preparations and a luscious Thanksgiving feast under the hot spray. I didn’t wash my hair, just tamed it to a thick, long braid, the white streaks framing a face with slightly anxious eyes when I took a last gaze into the fogged mirror. And only when I locked the door of my room and walked down the hallway, I finally realized that the festive outfit that had given Jubes so much headache lay forgotten on the floor beside my bed; I was wearing blue jeans, a pair of soft ankle boots and a flannel shirt in washed-out shades of grey and blue. A long, black down jacket, thick as a duvet, hung over my arm; I had no intention to walk back upstairs once more after Logan finished his late night snack and we left. For the second guesthouse, hopefully.

Thinking of the guest house…

Going into Storms office was not a big detour. I knew where she kept the keys in her desk, and the drawer stood half open. One minute later the treasure I had been looking for was safely hidden in the pocket of my jeans, and I could go and look for Logan in the kitchen.

When I entered the room, a Nickelback ballad came drifting down from the radio on the shelf. Logan stood at the counter, back turned to me, Beck's bottle within reach. A huge plate with turkey leftovers was silently rotating behind the window of the microwave oven, and he'd already cut a long baguette bread in two neat halves.

“Hey... did I say anything about a head start?” I laughed softly. “You must be famished!”

He grinned over his shoulder. “Famished enough. But you can take care of my desert, darlin'... I forgot the cheesecake you told me about.”

“Oh, come on – you gave it a pass because you were in such a hurry to get to the beer.” I teased, taking the rejected cake and a bowl with endive lettuce out of the fridge. “Take some greens for your sandwich; vitamins won't hurt.”

There was a Ping! from the microwave; Logan took the plate out and began to pile steaming Turkey strips on the baguette, deliberately ignoring the lettuce bowl I held out to him. “You forget that my body would easily survive a diet of french fries and bacon burgers for the rest of my life.”

“I know most of the stuff you usually wolf down had a face before it was roasted to death,” I said, pulling the cake plate close and cutting three thick slices. “But a bit of fruits and veggies from time to time...”

He turned to me, lips twitching. “Playing the mother hen, darlin'?”

I felt sudden heat rise into my face. “No. I'm...I'm just... oh shit, why do you have to make me feel like I'm only twelve years old?”

“You're the only one in here who feels that way,” he retorted, a wicked spark of amusement in his hazel eyes. “And you certainly didn't feel like twelve half an hour ago. Not under my hands and probably not even in your own head.”

I inhaled heavily through my nose, trying to regain my composure. “N... no, I didn't – as you know damn well!” I flopped down on one of the chairs in front of the counter, rubbing my face. The clock in the wall told me that it was nearly half past two in the morning, and suddenly I realized that it had been a long day, and that I was very tired. “Do you want some help with your sandwich? I could drown the turkey in ketchup and gravy, if you like.”

“Oh, I'm sure I can cope with that myself.” The spark in his eyes was replaced by a surprisingly gentle smile. “Darlin', you look absolutely wiped out. Are you sure you don't want to crawl back into your own bed alone, and forget about our... plan... until tomorrow?”

“Yes, I am,” I retorted with as much ferocity as I could muster. “You know, I hardly got any sleep in my own bed alone after I received your package, six weeks ago. I'm sure I'll sleep much better if you're lying beside me, Logan.”

I reached into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out my treasure.

“And besides, I already have the key to the guesthouse,” I finished triumphantly.

“Okay.” Logan shook his head and laughed. “You're pretty stubborn, kid... Marie. In that case I'd better wolf down my late night snack as fast as I can, okay?“

And with that he reached for the ketchup bottle.

*****

Despite the fact that Logan actually finished his meal at lightning speed, it was after three when we left the mansion. The sky was still clear and glittering with stars, and even though I wrapped myself as tightly in my down jacket as possible, I began to shiver even before we reached the gate. As we headed down the path to the small lake, my hands felt as if they were frozen, and when we finally reached the second guest house, my teeth were chattering.

“Give me the key”, Logan said, taking it from my numb fingers. “Lets get you under the roof before you break to pieces.”

I nodded, waiting impatiently for him to open the door, and as soon as it swung back, I scampered past him into the small entrance hall, endlessly thankful for the warmth inside. Obviously Storm had not only prepared the first guesthouse for Thanksgiving lodgers; the central heating was on, and wood logs were piled in the fireplace that dominated the living room. Growing up in Meridian had never taught me the art of starting a fire, but I'd been living in colder areas long enough to develop some basic skills. Within minutes, flames were flickering on the grate and I happily soaked up the heat. The short walk had somehow driven my tiredness away, and now I was in the state of utter clarity that very often follows exhaustion.

“Ha – look at that melting icicle!” Logan stepped into the room, a bottle of wine in his hand.

“Very sweet, thank you.” I grinned. “You know, I thought this might be a place where we are completely undisturbed, and where we might continue... well, you know what I mean.” I looked at the bottle. “If I drink a glass of wine now, I'll fall into a coma.”

“We could both do with a few hours of sleep,” Logan remarked, placing the wine on the table. His voice was a little brusque. I studied his face; discomfort was radiating from him in strong waves. Did he already regret the whole thing?

“Okay,” I said, my tone as airily as I could manage. “One glass of wine... and sleep first.”

I could see that he relaxed immediately. “You'd better open the bottle, then. I'll light a fire in the bedroom.”

With a few fast steps he was through the door, leaving me behind to search the drawers of the elegant mahogany cupboard for a corkscrew. I found myself wondering if I shouldn't have knocked his sudden, chivalrous consideration on the head while we were still in the mansion, coaxing him into my bed and my body before his doubts got the better of him.

Finally the bottle was open, and I filled two glasses instead of one. I waited for Logan to return, but the minutes passed by without a sound from the hallway, and my irritation grew. After what felt like an eternity I took both glasses and walked after him.

I found him in the next room, standing in front of the fireplace, face awash with the lively color of the flames. He didn't look at me when I came in, and I wordlessly put the glasses on the nightstand beside the untouched king size bed and pulled back the embroidered coverlet. To my surprise, I felt my unease and nervousness wane while my hands were occupied with this simple task; a soft, confident voice in the back of my head whispered words of encouragement to me, leading my step by step on the way. You have waited long enough, hesitated too much already; this is not the time for fear.

The duvets and sheets were crisp, carrying the faint smell of flowers. I sat down on the mattress, took one of the glasses and a first, careful sip. The wine was dark red, like blood and earth, the taste of tart currant and lush grapes exploding in my mouth.

“Logan?”

He turned around slowly, watching me without speaking. The silence might have been staggering, but strangely enough it was not. I took another sip, feeling the spicy alcohol run down my throat and glow like liquid embers in my stomach. Logan's gaze was on my lips as I licked a drop of wine away, and after a third generous sip I put the glass back. Our eyes met, and without further deviation I began to unbutton my flannel shirt.

“You should undress, too,” I said without pausing, stripping down the sleeves over my arms. “Or do you really want to sleep in your clothes?”

“Right now I'm not sure if I should sleep at all, darlin'... especially here.” I was a soft growl.

“I knew it was a godawful mistake to stop when you made me stop, back in the mansion!” I blurted out, giving the mattress a hearty thump. “Christ in Heaven, I have been living on dreams for years, and I've lived on one single kiss for the last six weeks – and now you want to play the knight in shining armor and leave me alone again? Here, of all places?” Another thump against the mattress. “You must be completely dense!”

It was not easy to see it in the light of the flames, but I could have sworn that Logan paled. He made a step back, away from the fireplace and towards the door. I bit my lip.

“It is the second time that I’ve yelled at you when things finally get romantic between us,” I murmured. “I'm sorry.”

His shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath, shaking his head. “No. No... you're right.” Our eyes met again, and this time what I saw was a smile... small and tense, but a smile anyway. “And you're not the only one who's been... dreaming. For years.”

I held the second glass out to him and he took it, emptying half of the wine in one long gulp and surveying the rest critically.

“Not bad for something that wasn't brewed in a beer kettle,” he said, and suddenly his face relaxed in a real grin.

“You are incorrigible,” I retorted with firm conviction, opening the zipper of my jeans and kicking my boots into a corner of the dim room. “And now do us both a favor and get rid of your clothes, will you?”

*****

I awoke to shimmering brightness, coming through a crack in the heavy silk curtain like a white spear. I could see my jeans, socks and shirt, piled on the floor beside the bed; I still wore my cotton panties and tank top, but something warm and heavy was encircling my waist and resting on my belly.

I made a tentative movement with my shoulders, meeting the solid wall of a chest in my back. The chest was breathing slowly, and it was nude. I could smell his typical scent of wood and fern, and there was the thrilling sensation of his bare skin against mine where the tank top had wandered upwards over my spine while I was sleeping.

Had we...

...no.

No, we had not.

I remembered sitting upright in the bed, watching Logan undress as I had asked him; he folded jeans and shirt neatly, placing them on a chair in the corner, and I could still recall how weird I found his sudden need for tidiness. I remembered myself, swallowing my protest when he slipped into a pair of sweatpants; I stretched under the warm duvet instead and felt the mattress and bed frame sag in croaking protest under the weight of his adamantium skeleton when he sat down.

I remembered both of us, lying under the covers and looking at each other, and his hand on my face, stroking gently while my hand closed around his wrist, his pulse under my fingers. The touch worked like a charm, and my heart gently fell into the same, regular rhythm while I returned his gaze. The long, exhausting day, the turbulent evening... they were a whirl of colorful images, woven of the faces of the children, Jube's laughter, Pjotr's songs and Hank's smile, and finally I drifted away, Logan's fingers still on my cheek.

But now... now I was awake. Wide awake. Lying beside a man I had been dying to share my bed with for years. Okay, maybe not. None of my dreams had ever gone that far.

I want to be able to touch people. A hug. A handshake. A kiss.

“Hey...”

His voice in my ear, a low hum that made his chest vibrate, and then I felt his lips on my neck. A shiver ran down my back. He registered it, of course, and the hand on my belly moved towards my navel and further up in a languid, gentle exploration.

“Had a good night?”

It had been a good night indeed, with deep, undisturbed slumber, any misgivings driven away by the unmistakable reality of Logan's arms around me.

“Fine. The best night for weeks.” Thoughts began to flutter around in my head: I’d better get up, take a shower, brush my teeth. And, much deeper under the surface: won't I be too inexperienced for this man, too clumsy? Won't I... And then the exploring hand reached the underside of my breasts and every thought died away under the breathtaking sensation of this touch.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured into my shoulder. “And you feel so good... you have no idea how good you feel.” A hot trace of lips and teeth across my collarbone that made me shiver all over again. “Incredible.”

“Logan...” It was a trembling sigh, and instinctively I pressed back against his body, craving more and at the same time too shy to tell him what I wanted. What I needed.

“I have waited such a long time,” I whispered, eyes tightly shut. “I wanted you to be the one who... you know what I mean. And now I'm afraid to mess up the... the whole thing.”

“Don't be, darlin'.” I was turned around in his arms, and now we lay face to face. His hazel eyes were very close. “We'll manage this together, you and me. Best way to make it work.”

Later – very much later – I understood that being honest about my uncertainty as well as about my desire for him had been the key that opened the door to what came next... the disappearance of his doubts, the firm resolution to accept that the time was right for us to become more than friends, more than the timid girl relying on the savage Wolverine to protect her, more than the hardened warrior in dire need of someone to watch over.

He kissed me... tender kisses, fluttering over my eyelids like butterflies, grazing my temples, my nose, barely touching my skin. Reassuring at first, it quickly became sweet torture and I arched up, humming my protest against his lips until he kissed me in earnest. He still kept holding back, I could feel it, but even so, his gentle assault was intense enough to make me squirm and groan into his mouth.

“What do you want?” he murmured, breath hot on my face. “Tell me.”

“First of all losing that tank top,” I gasped. “And... And I want you to take it off.”

He drew back, giving me enough space to sit more or less straight, and to raise my arms. He complied, but in an unexpected way: my eyes widened when he extracted one single claw and neatly cut the top in two halves. I could feel the tip of the deadly adamantium blade slide down from throat to stomach, and my mouth grew dry... but not with fear. Never in my – sadly teetotal – life I had been aroused like that.

I saw his nostrils flare and knew instantly that he could smell it... my sweat perhaps, the fiery heat and sudden dampness down there where until this very day only my own fingers had been. All shame and anxiety was gone without a trace when I stripped off the remnants of the top, took his hands and pressed them against my bare breasts.

He kissed me again, a kiss that made my head swim and my heartbeat stutter, and all the while his fingers stroked, caressed and finally kneaded my sensitive flesh, gently pinching the stiff little buds no one had ever touched before until I heard someone whimper in sheer, raw need and with a shock realized that this was me.

I sank back into the pillows, trying to pull Logan atop of me, but he held back, propped upon his arms, chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes blazing, golden fire.

“Christ, Marie...” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Wait... I'd better... we shouldn't...” I watched him, sailing way too high on this brand new wave to understand what he was trying to say. All I knew was that I was the reason for his excitement. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, and this amazing knowledge made the blood sing triumphantly through my veins.

All of a sudden, he rolled on his back, and the very next moment I found myself on top of him. I had been in this position the evening before, in my own room, but now my skirt and his jeans were gone and there was nothing between us but the soft sweatpants he wore and the thin layer of cotton over my own nakedness. Without thinking, I rocked back and forward again; the muscles on his abdomen tensed under my fingers, and I sensed him hard and demanding between my thighs. His head fell back; I saw the shimmer of his bared teeth and heard him whisper something, his voice low and hoarse.

I rose above him, breaking contact and stripping off my last piece of clothing as fast as possible. Then I knelt beside his legs, reached out for the waistband of his sweatpants... and suddenly I lost my courage. A tremor ran down my spine and I stared down at my hands, wishing desperately I could vanish into thin air. I had been afraid to mess up the whole thing, and exactly that was happening right now.

“Marie.” Again the mattress groaned under his weight. His breath blew over my shoulder. “Let me do this.” He laughed softly, an erotic rumble from deep down in his chest. “You know what? If you hadn't stopped right now, the whole thing would've gone down the drain.”

I eyed him stupidly. “Why...?”

“Because what you did so far had me turned on enough already to nearly shoot the whole load into my pants - like some horny kid in the backseat of his car,” Logan retorted with a lopsided grin. “Now you know what kind of effect you have on me, darlin'.”

Relief bubbled up in my throat, making me gasp. I giggled helplessly until he pulled me close again and sealed my mouth with his lips. At the same time his hand stroked my thighs, firm, confident and tantalizing enough for me to open up to his searching fingers. He found damp curls and smooth, slick skin, and then he touched the spot where my desire pooled in a knot of burning nerves. My world stopped turning and came to a stunned halt, and my head sank against his shoulder while his hand searched further, fingertips slipping inside and creating a rhythm that made me moan and shake under a shocking multitude of feelings while the giant wave swept me away again and finally tossed me over the edge of a violent peak.

My body was liquid, trembling with the aftershock of what he had just done to me - with only his hand, for heaven's sake – and so I completely missed how the sweatpants vanished and when exactly he retrieved the condom and slipped it on. The first thing I noticed when I slowly came out of the haze was his strong grip around my waist when I was lifted on top of him... and this time I followed his guidance and my instinct when he slowly oh so slowly lowered me down on his hardness. I knew there would be pain and hissed through clenched teeth when it came, and I held completely still while my flesh adjusted to a fullness it had never experienced before. And then the sharp sensation was gone, leaving nothing behind but triumphant joy, hunger and an overwhelming sense of newfound power.

I looked down at him, splaying my hands over the warm expanse of his chest. His eyes were still on fire, his face tense with laborious self-restraint ... and then I rose over him and sank down again, taking him in to the hilt. All reservation shattered to pieces when he bucked under me, giving a guttural groan that went right to my very core. I arched my back, digging my fingers into his flesh, rising and sinking once again while I gave myself over to the most ancient dance on earth. And he danced with me, sitting up and drawing me close, all the while moving with a strength, and at the same time a gentleness I never would've expected from such a man. His mouth was on my breasts, then his tongue, encircling the hardened buds and then – God! - his teeth, biting down on oversensitive, heated skin while his thrusts grew more powerful, lifting me off the bed.

The rhythm of our dance had changed to something feral and mind-numbingly intense; my body rose and fell with each aching up and glorious down. His teeth were bared, his gaze held mine and his growling voice rolled like thunder in my ears while I sensed the wave returning once more. Only this time it was even higher, towering over both of us, standing still for an eternal, breathless second and crashing down on our entwined limbs. My head fell back and I heard myself scream, every nerve and fiber ablaze when Logan's release exploded deep inside of me. I cried out his name, my flesh clenching around his hardness in feverish delight as I sank down on him one last time, and for a few moments the world around me turned into a soft, foggy darkness.

*****

I came back to myself, collapsed on his chest and held by his arms. The streak of sunlight on the carpet was gone, the narrow strip of sky I could see through the chink in the curtain had turned grey again. I closed my eyes; right now I didn't care if the sun was shining or not. I wanted to shut out the world just a little while longer.

“Hey, darlin'.”

Okay - not this particular part of the world.

“Hey...”

He smiled at me with a mixture of deep satisfaction and wonder, and I looked back, not entirely sure what to say. This was too big for words, too awesome and even too unreal, in a way... as if I had fallen head over heels into a fairytale. Plus that in this special fairytale the wolf had landed in the bed of Little Red Riding Hood, and she was perfectly okay with it.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch, and one of his eyebrows shot towards his hairline.

“What are you thinking about? How the beauty ended up with the beast?”

I couldn't help it; I snorted with laughter. “And here I thought... and here I thought the cure got you out of my head,” I gasped, my brow against his naked shoulder. “I really should have known better, shouldn't I?”

“Do you mind?”

His fingers were combing my hair; the smile still lingered on his lips, but his eyes were serious.

“No, I don't mind,” I answered earnestly. “Not in the least.”

“Good.” His hand left my hair and began a slow, tender journey down my back. “Comes in rather handy, to tell the truth. I'll stick around the institute for some time. Storm's offered me a job.”

I stared at him. “A job?”

“The X-Men haven't had a real fight instructor since... okay, since Scooter died.” A very brief pause, and a shadow, darkening his face. “Storm doesn't want anyone to get lazy.”

I studied him closely, remembering the morning last August, when I found him standing in front of Jean's grave... the look of bitter defeat in his eyes, the exhaustion in his face that seemed to eat him alive. The wound was still there, but I could see that it was healing. There would be a scar, though... which didn't bother me half as much as it would've only a few months ago. I had made my peace with Jean, that night in the Professor's study. There were joys she'd never feel anymore, while I had just taken a first, jubilant taste of them. And Logan was healing.

“So you'll be the one torturing them in the danger room?” I grinned, remembering Scott's lessons and quite a few bruises while he was still in charge.

“Yeah.” He grinned back; his hand had returned to my shoulders, and he began stroking my neck in lazy circles. I rubbed my cheek against his chest; if I'd been a cat, I would have purred. “And scaring the shit out of them, probably.”

“Which is something I have difficulties imagining right now,” I murmured, touching his skin with my mouth and kissing my way upwards to his shoulder. He met me halfway before I reached his collarbone: warm breath and warm lips, opening under mine, a seeking tongue and an insistent hand, pressing me flush against his body.

“I don't want to call my friends
They might wake me from this dream
I can't leave this bed
Risk forgetting all that's been...”

I jumped, blushing crimson red. A fast glance showed me my jeans, lying crumpled on the floor...and Dido's voice was coming out of the back pocket, for heaven's sake. Logan's eyes narrowed.

“What's that?”

“My cell phone,” I snapped, climbing hurriedly down from him, snatching the jeans and fumbling around in the pocket.

“Oh I am what I am
I'll do what I want
But I can't hide...”

Finally Dido was silent. But now I could hear Jubes' voice instead. “Rogue! Rogue...?”

I settled on the carpet, giving a deep sigh. So much for shutting out the world.

“Yeah, it's me. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Her righteous indignation was literally dripping into my ear. “I come into your room this morning because the whole house is waiting with a huge Post-Thanksgiving breakfast – a blue-furred Ambassador included - and all I can find is your skirt, your fancy pullover and an empty bed. Where the hell are you? Halfway to Canada, to rescue Mr. Adamantium Bones out of some ditch?”

Her voice had risen half an octave, and I could feel the bed creak behind me when Logan leaned over my shoulder. He gently bit my earlobe, and I had to suppress a gasp.

“Well, I needed a head start, didn't I?” I shot back, closing my eyes when the teeth wandered to the spot where my neck merged into my shoulder and bit down again, this time not quite so gentle. “You told me you would kill him if you found him first, after all.”

“You're really driving up to Canada?” Jubes shrieked. “You must be kidding!”

“No. No, I'm...”

Suddenly a big hand snatched the cell phone from my fingers.

“Listen, Sparks,” Logan said, “We're in the second guest house. And before you ask, we've been there since last night. And no, the rest is none of your damn business.”

A protesting squeak.

“Keep it under your hat, Jubilee Lee,” Logan said, a grin spreading on his face. “And if you tell Storm anything else but the fact that Rogue has taken a time-out before we're back this evening, it might well be that I'll kill you.”

He cut off Jube's voice by closing the cell phone with a snap and dropped it into my palm.

I scrambled back onto the bed and into his embrace. “Poor Jubes... she'll explode from keeping such a sensation to herself!”

Logan's eyes were glittering with amusement.

“We're a sensation?”

“You are,” I told him firmly. “To be honest, I can barely believe that you're really lying in this bed with me.”

“Aha?” His mouth was tantalizing close to mine. “I'll have to give you some proof, then.”

“Oh yes... please.” The last word turned into a drawn-out sigh when he tilted my chin up, drawing a damp hot trail with his tongue down to the hollow at the base of my throat. “As much proof as you want.”

“I won't sleep
I can't breathe
Until you're resting here with me...”

I groaned and reached for the cell phone on the night stand. “Jubes? Do us both a huge favor... don't call again. See you in the mansion, for dinner.” I stalled the stream of words threatening to be spilled over me. “For dinner, Jubes. Which will happen in about... ah... nine hours.”

And with these words I switched off the phone.

FINIS