Control.

The word had sweat on his spine, his heart pounding and the itch between his knuckles--the fierce need to let his claws shear through his skin--battering his brain. What the fuck was wrong with him?

His head fell back against the door of his room with a dull thud. He welcomed the brief flare of pain. It faded. So he did it again. A harsh "fuck" broke from him.

Marie had control of her skin. And what had he done? Run. Turned from the biggest, brightest smile he'd ever seen and got the fuck out of Xaxier's office as if she was Magneto, Sabretooth and Stryker rolled up into one skinny nineteen year old.

He cracked his skull against the door again and swore.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He was older than sin, older than dirt, nothing scared or surprised him. But Marie standing there, her bare fingers ghosting over the back of Xaxier's hand, wearing a dress that showed off more bare skin than his brain could handle, hearing, seeing, scenting the shocked disbelief of the others, of finding Marie's incredible smile focused on him...

His heart lurched. Fuck, he wanted to run. No. He needed to run, drive, hell he'd even willingly fly away from the Mansion. From her.

She had control of her skin. She was touchable...and the fear of it twisted a hard knot in his gut. It made no sense. Marie was his friend. He should've pulled her into a tight hug, reminded her condoms weren't only there to prevent life-sucking mutations and watched her wreak havoc on the male population.

But he hadn't.

Fear had gripped him instead and he'd caught the painful dimming of her smile before he...fled.

And he couldn't explain it.

So the door got another thud from his head. And another. He paused. No. Wait. That had come from outside. The familiar light rap of knuckles and with the sound came a scent. Warm, vanilla, washed cotton and a hundred other little traces of a woman that brought one person into his mind. Marie.

The claws cut through his skin, so fast the pain was a flash of white fire over his thoughts. Every dark instinct he had screamed threat and a low growl curled from his mouth as his darkness, the Wolverine pushed to the surface. He tamped it down. Of course she'd hunt him out. There was little Marie wasn't afraid to face...and a grown man hiding in his room wouldn't be one of them.

Force of will made him retract his claws. He pushed himself away from the door and turned to open it.

She stood in the shadow of the corridor, her back straight, her chin lifted. Even in the darkness, he could see the tightness of the muscles around her eyes, at the corners of her mouth, feel the extra tension in her body. Her scent had changed. Anger laced it now. He leaned in the doorway, fighting the need he had to run, to get the fuck away from her and her controlled skin. Crossing his arms across his chest, he held her dark gaze. And waited.

Oh that pissed her off. The scent of her anger spiked.

"Was it the danger?" Her question was flat, hard.

He frowned. "Danger?"

She stroked her fingertips along the smoothness of her bare forearm, all that fucking exposed flesh, and goose bumps prickled under her own light touch. "You don't have to worry, Logan. I can turn it on again if that's what gets you off."

He blinked. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

She tilted her head and anger still burned in her eyes. "Isn't that what you and me are about? The untouchable girl and the big bad Wolverine, the only man brave enough, insane enough to touch me." A hard smile cut across her mouth. "We can still play that game if you want."

His frown deepened. He made an exaggerated pull at her scent. "You don't smell like that blue bitch. So why are you acting like her? Control do that to you, darlin'?"

"Want to touch me and find out?"

His heart lurched and the fierce need to unsheath his claws surged though him. "Fuck, no." The words formed from a snarl. "You're not touching me."

"You're scared."

The words slapped him. "Go find a boy to fuck, Marie." He turned back into his room, halfway to shutting the door only to find her cutting under his arm. She was deep into his territory, over by the window in a few heartbeats. "Get out."

"Do you think I want you, want to fuck you, is that what has you freaking?"

Logan swore and shut the door, the wood thudding into the frame. "Jesus christ, Marie. There's saying exactly what you think...and then there's you." He caught his fingers in his hair. He wanted her out. Her scent filled the room, clean, determined, so familiar…and that familiarity had every basic nerve screaming that she was a threat. "It's not safe for you around me now."

"Why?"

Good question. He'd tell her when he knew. Which wasn't then. "It's just...not." He glared at her. "Now go strip your Cajun. News will get around fast and I don't want him slavering at my door."

"We're friends, Logan."

She was trying every tack she could think of. None of them worked. She was simply...wrong now. Touchable. He didn't know why that fact, so painful to her, but so fucking necessary to him, had made her his friend, made her a part of his life. But now that she could touch, and touch him, anything they had was over.

"We were."

"So it was all about the danger."

"If you like."

Her heart was beating too fast, and he knew he'd hurt her. He could smell the sharp hint of salt from her forming tears. But, fuck, he had to. Self-preservation. He had to take her down before she got him.

Her hands moved to her neck and she lifted the thin chain over her head. His tags dangled from her fingers. "I would have let you fuck me with my skin on, Logan." Her smile was sharp, bitter. "Danger and sex, how could the animal in you resist?"

"Get out, Marie."

"Imagine it..."

He had, perverted old bastard that he was. And long before she'd said it. That was the way he was. No woman ever passed by him without his strategy of how he would fuck them playing through his head. "Nothing new."

The angry flush to her cheeks deepened and her sudden spike of arousal hit him. Also nothing new. Women reacted to him. Always had. Always would.

He stared at the tags hanging from her bare fingers. The morning sunlight threaded through to touch the names stamped into the metal.

Wolverine. Logan.

There. Something on the edge of this thoughts tugged at him. The reason why he wanted her to remain poison to him. But like his memories, the thought was beyond his reach. "Get out, Marie, before I throw you out."

She dropped the tags to the floor, the dull clink as they hit the varnished floorboards too loud in the room. Her anger had ebbed. Now he couldn't tell what the hell it was that gripped her. "I thought you'd be happy for me."

He barked a laugh. "So did I." Not that he had given it any thought. Hell, he realised he'd been relying on her untouchablity. Was too comfortable with it. Liked it. "Seems I'm not."

"You're a bastard."

"Yes, I am."

She stood still for a moment, before she ran her fingers over her hair, tucking thick strands behind her ears. "And that's what you want? You want me to go get naked and fuck Remy? Get his stink all over me?"

"Up to you, darlin'."

She bit at her lip and tears had her eyes too bright. "So it doesn't matter to you?"

"What matters to me right now." His claws surged from between his knuckles and he saw her start, smelt the first hint of fear he'd caught from her in years. "Is to not ventilate you with these. You're all kinds of wrong now, Marie. So, you want to stay alive, you stay the fuck away from me."

"You've made that very clear. Thank you." She paused. "You going to run now? Because that would make the hate cleaner for me." Her gaze dropped to his claws. "And it would remove you from the terror of my skin."

"Already thought about packing."

"You're a dick."

"Never denied it, Marie."

"You've lost the right to use that name." She moved, a step towards the door and his hands flexed, his body alert, ready to attack. "It's on," she said, holding his gaze. Her voice was calm, steady. He'd become the enemy. "Around you it always will be." Her gaze dropped to his claws again. "Self-protection."

A laugh broke from her as she headed for the door. "And to think I planned to seduce you tonight." She snorted. "I honestly thought I wouldn't make it out of the Professor's office before you had me shoved against a wall and had your hands up my skirt." She wrapped her fingers around the door handle, her head bowed. Her shoulders tensed and for a moment he knew her courage had slipped. "Why did you touch me so much...before, Logan? So fucking tactile--"

"What did you say?" The first hint of his regret evaporated. His claws strained to the sharp edge of pain. Tactile. That word was important. It burned as white hot as the agony in his hands.

She turned, her back against the door. A heaviness hung over her, but the flickers of anger still burned. "Sly touches. And you seemed to use any excuse. Reaching for something caught your knuckles against by breast. Stroking my ass. Fuck, last week you had your hand between my legs. Don't think I didn't notice you copping a serious feel." He had. As part of a training exercise. He'd brought himself off hours later with the scent of her pussy on his fingers. The ache to taste her had been sharp that night...but the knowledge that he never could had added to his satisfaction. Kept it safe. Kept him safe.

Tactile.

Her word burst over him again. It was important.

"Sometimes the animal has to play, sweetheart."

"Your chance to have me, have danger and sex is gone, Logan."

He laughed. "This is me. If I wanted you, I'd have you. And you'd be more than willing."

"You're an arrogant dick."

"Never denied that either."

"So touching me was all just a game the Wolverine wanted to play?"

"Yeah."

"Bastard."

He shrugged. "Better to play you than be played."

Logan stopped. The sudden, fierce pain in his chest almost brought him to his knees. He reached out a hand to find the wall, to hold himself upright. What the fuck was that? He didn't understand any one of his new reactions to Marie. Not one.

"Logan?"

The sharp edge of guilt snagged on him for a long second. There'd been concern in her voice, the touch of worry even though he'd threatened her, told her to fuck off. He couldn't stand to be near her and she still worried. He'd never deserved her. She was better off with that greasy Cajun than she was with a fucked up mess like him.

"I need you to leave." His voice ended on a low growl.

"Let me get the Professor, get Jean. You need help, Logan."

She wanted to believe there was something wrong with him. The stink of hope clung to her. If he could be fixed, then she'd have him. She couldn't have him. Playing him. Controlling him in the same way she controlled her skin. Wasn't going to happen. Not to him. Not again.

"Logan!"

He'd pinned her to the door with the hard bulk of his body, his claws buried in the wood either side of her head. Fuck, he hadn't even known he was moving. His darker self, the animal, the Wolverine formed a shadow over his mind.

Fear rippled over her again, mixing with a rush of other emotions. A hard smile tugged at his mouth. Yes, arousal was in there too. Her soft body crushed against his, his hard thigh between her legs, her quickened breath against his throat. Her lips grazed his skin. She'd fucking lied about her skin being on. "You're not going to play me."

"I don't want to play you."

Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her hands tense balls at her sides. She seemed to know that if she made any move, any attempt to touch him he'd have to take her down. "But how you're acting, Logan. It's not you." Her dark eyes held him, clear, her youthful and absolute belief that she could help him shining there. "Why are you running from me controlling my skin? Tell me the first thing that comes into your head."

He couldn't help the low growl that escaped him, his hands flexed and reforming into hard fists. Fucking psychobabble. She'd been hanging out with Chuck too much.

"Logan. Me controlling my skin. First word."

"Betrayal." That surprised the hell out of him. Her too from the way she blinked. "I've betrayed you?"

"Yes." No, that wasn't right. Marie hadn't. He'd felt safe with her mutation. "No. I don't fucking know."

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath that burned against his throat. A low growl ripped from him, the rise of anger heating his blood.

"Logan..."

The soft whisper of her voice twisted around his need for violence. He tried to remember that it was Marie...but that fact only roiled the fury in his gut.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

A bitter laugh broke from him. "What I'm thinking?" He dipped his head, pulling in her scent, his lips touching the shell of her ear. Her breath hitched and the increased rhythm of her heart pressed him harder against her. His thigh shifted and her tiny moan hardened his dick. She was temptation. And he had to protect himself, remove her before she betrayed him. Again.

He frowned. Marie had never... Her skin. Her touch.

"Touch betrayed me."

The fierce pain in his chest forced a snarl and Marie shivered against him. Darkness filled his mind, pushing up from somewhere, somewhere in the emptiness of his past. He could fuck her and sink his claws into her throat. End her control over him.

"How did it betray you?" Marie's voice, muffled against the flannel of his shirt, was quick, too high and threaded with fear and want.

His claws retracted, splintering the wood and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her, hating her, the fire in his blood melting the metal seared around his bones.

Love. Touch had made him feel love.

He buried his face against her neck, his mouth finding her skin through the loose strands of her hair. Marie's skin. Sweet, fresh, hints of soap, lotion and no pain. None.

He growled and Marie shivered. "We loved her, I loved her." He pulled in a heavy breath as the Wolverine's darkness sharpened in his thoughts. His words came out on a rough growl, thickened with a past he couldn't remember. But the Wolverine did, the pain of it burning under his flesh. Vague images, smells, a dark haired woman dead and not dead. Betraying him with her touch. "She made it real. Destroyed it. He forgave her. I couldn't. I haven't."

"Wolverine."

Somehow, Marie knew the animal had pushed to the front. He'd needed his voice, needed more than threading through his body, his mind, working with him. Whatever had happened, the darker part of himself had been wounded, was still in pain.

A woman he, they loved had torn them apart. Tactile hypnosis. Making him believe love could be real.

Marie's soft scent filled him, her body crushed to his chest. Her breathing was tight, each push of her chest difficult. With every hard thud of his heart, caught out of rhythm with her frantic beat the Wolverine ebbed back.

"You were safe." Logan heard the difference in his voice, the animal a shadow again. He was seriously screwed up. What the fuck did this woman see in him? He eased back from his harsh grip. "If you had no control, I had it all."

Marie's balled fist flexed and her tentative brush of fingertips against his hip caused him to flinch. "I can give you that."

He lifted his face from her neck, meeting her dark eyes. She had Magneto, a teenaged boy and him rattling around in her head and yet there was a depth of calm to her that he envied. "Rogue..."

"Marie." A hint of a smile touched her mouth, but then it faded. He didn't miss the brief flicker of regret before the steadiness returned to her gaze. "If you need me with my skin on. I can do that for you."

Logan let out a heavy breath and released her. He stepped back. His mouth twitched at her look of confusion. "You shouldn't have to." He raked his fingers through his messy her. He turned away. "I can't even remember her name. Just have flashes of her face." A bitter laugh broke from him. "Which is more than I had of my past yesterday."

He turned and tilted his head, watching the silent woman leaning against the door. Her inner strength amazed him. That she was still in the same room fucking astounded him. Why the Wolverine had run from her hit him hard in the chest.

He loved her. He frowned. He had always loved her...but now he was in love with her. His fingers fisted in his hair and he welcomed the pain. Fuck. She didn't need this. She'd just managed to control her skin, she could have anyone, should have anyone. Hell, it would've been so much easier if she'd walked straight out of the room hating him.

"What do you want me to do?" Her soft voice, the southern drawl faded now, wove around him. "I'm here for you, Logan."

The bastard in him, the one that stroked his fingers over her pussy, the one that saw his chance to fuck her surged forward. The Wolverine wanted to fuck her without consequence. Its wounds were still raw, he knew that now.

Marie would let him, let him take her and use her. The thought horrified him and made him want to hold her, brush kisses over her hair and promise her anything. But he'd forgiven the woman in his past. It was time for the Wolverine inside him to accept the woman they had now. "Touch me, Marie."

She blinked. "With it on?"

"With your skin off." He held out his hand, ignoring the tremor in it as his animal fought for control again, fear and pain wanting the claws to flash and the scent of blood to cut the air. "Please."

Marie pressed her lips together and the shine of tears brightened her eyes. She took a steady step forward, the skirt of her sundress flaring.

The animal in him howled, aching to run, to escape what her touching him meant. Logan gritted his teeth. He loved her. He could do this.

He tensed at the brief brush of her fingertips over his nails. Heat flashed under his skin and his heart pounded. There was no pull, no life-sucking heat and agony and for a whole fucked-up second he'd wanted it.

No. There was just the cool slip of a girl's touch over the length of his fingers, to the sensitive skin between his knuckles. He couldn't help the low growl that escaped him. Marie glanced up, but he didn't find fear in her eyes. He found desire. "Like that, do you?" And she deepened the stroke.

"Fuck."

Her sudden smile was wicked and his breath caught. She brought his hand to her mouth. Someone had fucked about with gravity, because his bones were almost too heavy for him to stand.

The sight of her lips, the feel of them against his knuckles, soft and warm...and then her tongue tip darted a lick between. His growl deepened. This was not right. He didn't want to push her. "Marie..."

Her gaze flicked to him through her lashes and fuck, his jeans were too tight.

"I've had you in my head for four years." Her breath stirred his skin. "I peeked to see what you like." Her tongue lapped at his hand and his knees almost buckled. "Sue me." She found his palm, her teeth grazing the webbing between his thumb and first finger. The unexpected sensation flashed fire through his body and he staggered, catching himself against the wall. Marie's soft laughter wrapped around him.

"You taste incredible."

Logan let out a slow breath, trying to get the wild pounding of his blood under control. He told a rare few about how sensitive his hands were. "You haven't had much comparison."

Marie stepped closer, his hand still close to her mouth. A smile touched her lips and he wanted to kiss her, hard. Her head tilted. "D'you really think I'd lick just anyone?"

Logan closed his eyes. He was being a good man. He wanted to take it slow, let her set the pace. Not jump her and lick and kiss and bite her all over.

"Would the Wolverine object if I touched you here?"

Her thumb brushed his bottom lip, another of her fleeting, light touches that made him ache. "Well?"

"Marie, you don't have to--"

"No, I don't. But I want to." She sighed as her thumb pressed harder and there was only her touch and no pain. Her fingers teased a slow path over his jaw to his throat, her breathing quick. She hadn't touched anyone for so long...and she wanted him. "I've wanted you since that dive of a bar."

He groaned. He did not need to know that. He watched her, her eyes dark, holding his as she licked his palm. Need burned though his and his balls ached. "Fuck, Marie."

"How do you want me, Logan? Because you are going to have me." She pressed his damp hand to her chest, sliding his fingers over the thin material. "All of me."

No bra. No fucking bra. His mouth dried. Maybe he could die, because she was going to kill him. "For me?"

A faint blush touched her cheeks. "I thought..."

She thought he wouldn't be able to keeps his hands off her. Crazy girl wanted him. She was gorgeous and she wanted to throw herself away on a fuck up like him. And he was a selfish bastard because he was going to let her. "You have me up against the wall outside Chuck's office."

She looked confused, but then a hot shine burned in her gaze. Clever girl. She'd caught on quick. She released his hand and stepped back. Her head tilted. "Strip."

Logan blinked. "What?"

"I don't care if the whole student body sees you naked. Strip. Now, Logan."

"Why?"

"I want your skin, all of it."

The look in her eyes. He'd seen the same hunger in his own gaze, the wildness of a feral. His heart thudded and the need to grab her and bury himself in her surged over him. Make her scream his name. "Been planning this for a while, darlin'?"

Her smile was dark. Where had this Marie been hiding? Fuck, had she masked herself? Masked the need she had for him so much? "I heard the rumours of you running around naked on your first day here. I used to imagine I had control of my skin and what I'd do if I'd found you first."

"People think I was naked?"

"This is you, Logan. People believe anything is possible." She bit at her bottom lip, white teeth holding it and hell, even Wolverine told his fear to go fuck itself, because they were united in wanting her. "I wanted you to be naked, racing through the halls, wild, free, mine to hunt. Mine to have."

He growled. She was claiming him. He ignored the tremor in his hand as he pushed through the buttons of his shirt. He loved her. Control of her skin wasn't control of him. "I eat little girls like you for breakfast."

Her mouth quirked upwards and she took a step closer, her gaze fixed on his fingers. "You promise?"

"Yeah." He shrugged off his shirt and yanked his wife beater over his head. "Yeah. I promise."

The light tip of her finger traced over his collarbone and he hissed. Every touch licked fire against his skin, the ache in his dick straining his own control. "Marie, fuck baby, I'd let you play all day, but..."

"But?"

He looped out his belt and popped the buttons on his jeans. His dick sprang free and he couldn't help the relieved groan that broke from him. "When I come I want to be buried inside you." A blush burned across her cheeks and the reminder hit him that for all her calm, all her daring, all the men occupying her head, she was still inexperienced.

He closed his eyes, hating the question he had to ask. Because fuck, he had never wanted to know. Ever. "How far did you go with Iceprick, Marie?"

He breathed through her silence, against her stillness. The longer she didn't speak, the more certain he became that the little fuck had talked her into having sex with him in the short months they were together.

"Is it important?"

Logan ignored the silent howl of the Wolverine. His. She was his and that little shit had... He opened his eyes. She was here with him now, wanted him now. He would not fuck up the chance he had with primal jealousy. "No." He kicked off his boots and his jeans hit the floor. "Naked, as requested."

But there was no returning smile. "Logan..."

"Marie."

"I have you in my head."

Her gaze fixed on his collarbone, her fingers moving. He wasn’t certain that she realised she was still touching him, but it burned down through him and he fought to keep his breathing even. This was too new for both of them. He had to take everything slow, easy. Fuck, his life was complicated.

"I know you want...experience."

His gut tightened and the fierce need to pop his claws shot through him. Please, please she couldn't tell him she'd fucked the Popsicle for him. "Marie..."

She looked up, her gaze filled with that calm, inner strength he envied. Her chest lifted and the scent of determination screamed off her. She was going to tell him. In detail. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I tried. He wanted to. In spite of my skin." The hint of a bitter smile pulled at her mouth. "Though the way he boasts about Kitty, maybe I was a notch."

Logan was going to kill the little fuck. Cut of his dick and choke him to death with it. But he said nothing. He'd asked the question. He had to live with the answer.

"We kissed through a scarf, something so thin it was hardly there." Her gaze was distant. Logan clung to the fact that it didn't look like a pleasant memory. He really was a bastard. "He was too eager. It tore. I got a rush of him in a way he didn't expect."

He pushed down his hard grin. The fuck hadn't touched her at all. He might let him live after all. "No lasting damage?" Her mouth twitched. She knew he didn't give a fuck about the Iceprick.

"I could cool my own beer for a time."

His fingertips brushed her temple. "And here?"

"He's boxed and fading. He has a cold...fetish. I feel sorry for Kitty. So," she pulled in another long breath and for a moment, looked away. "I haven't...with anyone. I understand if you don't want to..."

His low growl made her blink. She was still a virgin. He could feel the Wolverine practically salivating. He would be the first man on every fucking inch of her skin. All fear, all thought of her controlling him vanished. Marie would be theirs. Completely. "You have no idea how much I want to."

"Really?"

"Really." He lifted an eyebrow. "So...you have me naked against the wall...?"

Marie pushed a strap down over her shoulder and the need to sink his teeth into her untouched flesh surged through him. He gritted his teeth. This was her first time, her fantasy. It was all about her.

"Tell me what you want, Marie."