The grandfather clock in the mansion’s hallway struck midnight as Logan wandered through to the kitchenette, intent on a cold beer. Keeping a separate, locked kitchenette (and tighter security overall) had been the only major change to the mansion after Stryker’s raid a year ago, but it was serving it’s purpose well: the teaching staff now had a place to call their own. More than a lounge, yet less than the huge, impersonal, stainless steel commercial kitchen where the student’s meals were prepared, the kitchenette had become popular for late night raids, and it solved the problem of keeping the beer and liquor stash away from predatory minors.

Popping open a bottle of Molson, Logan drank deeply and sighed his satisfaction to the emptiness of the darkened room. Still not willing to give up his nocturnal patrolling (Summers called it ‘prowling’) of the dark hallways while the kids slept peacefully, he turned toward the door he’d left standing ajar, intending to stroll the long-neck through the next wing.

Side-stepping nimbly through the half-opened door, Logan turned at the precise moment that a barefoot Rogue barreled around the corner in her long night gown, a bowl of vanilla ice cream clutched in both hands. The collision was unavoidable.

Glass broke, beer left it’s original container in a rather dramatic fashion, and a spoon ricocheted off the far wall as Rogue gasped aloud in shock. Logan looked at the remains of the bottle still in his hand, the upper half splintered off above the label. The rest lay in shards on the floor at their feet. Beer was splashed into the ice cream and down the front of Rogue’s night gown, and a drop of melting ice cream was sliding down the wall where the spoon had hit. With one cock of the eyebrow, Logan silently congratulated himself at coming out of the head-on collision clean and dry, but the look on Rogue’s face quelled that momentary smugness.

“I may be having food cravings, but beer ala mode doesn’t cut it, mister. I am NOT eating this!” Rogue rolled her eyes up at Logan, still calmly regarding his broken beer bottle.

Casting a sudden glance at the mess on the floor, he warned Rogue quickly. “Bare feet - broken glass. Do. not. move.” Taking the bowl from her, Logan stepped quickly into the kitchenette, dumping the broken bottle and the bowl into the sink. Grabbing a broom and dustpan, he returned to the hall where Rogue stood quietly. Making quick work of the clean-up, he dumped the shards of glass in the trash after warning her to remain where she was, in case he’d missed anything.

“Well, sugar, I’m not standing here all night. I’ll just back up a few steps.”

“No... just wait.” Casting a glance around the area, and still wary of her bare feet, Logan moved in close to her. “I’m gonna pick you up and carry you away from here. Shards of glass ain’t something to mess with when you’re barefoot.”

“Logan, neither is my skin. See?” She displayed her hands and raised the hem of her long gown. “No gloves, no socks. Bare skin. I didn’t think there would be anyone around this late. You gotta be careful, too.”

“No problem. Make like a mummy.”

“Excuse me?”

He demonstrated by fisting his hands and crossing his wrists at chest level. As soon as she did the same thing, he swept an arm behind her legs, the other behind her shoulders, and scooped her up easily. “Socks or ice cream?”

She stared at him in confusion. “What the hell??!?”

“You’re gettin’ a mouth on you lately, ya know that? Do you want to go back for fresh ice cream, or do you want to go get some socks and shoes on first? And whaddaya mean, food cravings? I thought only pregnant women cra....” His voice faltered in mid-sentence as his eyes glazed over. “Marie?”

“Stand down, soldier. Women have hormonal food cravings at other times, too. You know. ‘Other’ times?” She saw the thoughts flicker through behind his eyes, then with a tilt of his head, his nostrils flared, and Marie felt her cheeks burn a deep blush.

“Ahhh, I get it. The spilled beer was masking the scent.”

“Oh, Gawd! You mean you can smell THAT?!?”

“Hell yeah. It’s... uh... intriguing,” his smile was somewhere between wicked and lecherous.

“Excuse me while I crawl into the corner and die of embarrassment.”

Logan put his ‘lecture’ face on. “Marie, that’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about; it’s just nature, hormones, all that...” He floundered for a moment in the search for the right words. “... all that good grown-up stuff.”

Somewhere in the back of Logan’s mind, the Wolverine poked him hard.

"Smooth, bub, real smooth. You’re a silver-tongued devil tonight. Sounds like somethin’ the Boy Scout would say. She’s a bleedin’ fertile female. You oughtta be bitin’ her neck and leavin’ your own scent rubbed all over her to keep the others away."

The feral thoughts seemed to crawl around in Logan’s mind, but the warmth and weight and scent of Marie still cradled in his arms brought his awareness back to the moment. Looking down at her flushed cheeks, he mentally stilled the beast within. She was saying something and using her deadly-serious voice, so he focused.

"... and you are so ‘not’ going to give me a sex-ed lecture here in this hallway. Either put me down, take me to the kitchen, or shoot me on the spot."

“Kitchen it is. Use the hem to get the ice cream off the wallpaper.” He took her to the wall and she rubbed off the trail of ice cream with her beer-dampened gown. Then to her delight, Logan headed for the big kitchen. Rogue considered pointing out that they were now well clear of any stray glass shards, but being carried through the hallways by strong arms was more fun than she’d had lately. And he was warm, and there weren’t that many chances to get ‘this’ close to Logan, so she let the subject drop from her mind and enjoyed the ride.

Plopping her down on one of the tall counter tops, Logan turned and started pulling cartons from the freezer. Rogue considered arguing that she could fix her own ice cream and that her feet were likely safe here, but it was rare to get waited on by any man, especially Logan, so she sat silently and watched in veiled amusement. He was frowning at one carton intently.

“You want vanilla, death by chocolate, or this fruity stuff?”

“It’s not fruity stuff, it’s dark cherry royale. Well, I guess there’s fruit in it, cherries; but I want vanilla.... and cherry, both. I’ll get our spoons.” The drawer was beside her right knee, and she reached down to slide it open at the exact moment Logan turned around and caught the corner of the drawer at groin level.

Rogue yiped and quickly jerked her hand away from the drawer and his crotch. She saw his eyes go wide and then close tightly as one hand slowly slid the drawer shut and then cupped himself, while the other hand braced against the counter top. Drawing forced, slow, even breaths, Logan gratefully waited for the healing factor to kick in and quell the pain.

“Gawd, Logan - I’m so sorry,” Rogue breathed the words at him.

“Accident.” That was all that would come out through gritted teeth.

“Two down, one to go, then.”

“I only got two nuts, Marie.” He was starting to breathe normally again and both eyes seemed to point the same direction.

“Accidents, sugar; we’ve had two accidents tonight - one more and we’re done. Things like that come in threes.”

“We’ve gone from spilled beer and ice cream to near-castration. I’m not waitin’ around for number three.”

“Ooookay, we’re trading places. Hop up here - I left you a warm spot.” Rogue bounced off the counter top and started rattling through another drawer for a scoop. To her surprise, Logan actually did give a jump and landed on her former counter spot, his long legs dangling. Marie caught herself staring at his legs, the tight jeans, the thickly-muscled thighs, and curbed herself before her gaze wandered any higher. “Now, you relax while I dish the goodies, and you should be safe enough from accident number three. Just... avoid any sharp objects.”

The words came out before she could even begin to edit them, and Logan merely cocked her a silent, sarcastic, side-long glance.

“Sorry. What flavor do you want, sugar?”

“Molson.”

“Smart-ass. You want a menu?” She tapped one foot impatiently.

“There’s that mouth again.”

“Pick one, god-dammit!”

“Death by chocolate,” he chuckled softly. “When did you start cussin’ so liberally?”

“When I met you. I know some really good ones, but they might taint the ice cream, so don’t push my buttons. How many scoops?”

“Two.”

No ‘please’ or ‘thanks’, just two, and he sounded a little breathy and soft. Glancing at him, she realized he was staring right down her cleavage while she was prying open cartons on the counter beside him. Oh great, more blushing.

“Chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac, bub; but somethin’ tells me you wouldn’t need anything like that with her up against you. Just think about that chocolate ice cream meltin’ and runnin’ down that deep cleavage on a hot August night, and you gettin’ to lick it off her... that’d do us all a world of good.”

Logan shook off the purring voice in the back of his head, and the mental vision of melting ice cream on very lickable but very untouchable flesh, and went back to hunting for spoons. Spreading his legs wide apart, he bent forward and opened the drawer between his knees, pulled out two spoons, and gingerly shut the drawer again. Rogue fumbled the scoop and it hit the floor.

“Is that number three?”

“I kinda doubt it.” She rinsed the scoop and attacked the cherry royale. She wanted to press the side of her face to the carton to cool her blush, but thought that might be a bit too obvious. She pondered her feelings while she went for vanilla, and decided a southern girl’s ace-up-the-sleeve had always been flirting and social grace. And obviously, Logan was in a rare good mood tonight in spite of the two accidents that had brought them to this point, so a little flirting wouldn’t hurt.

Would it? But how far could she flirt bare-handed and cramping? It had to be verbal and implied. Logan had just dug his spoon into his chocolate as she held up the dripping scoop.

“Wanna lick this?” She put on her sweetest smile and gave the eyelashes one, no, two brief flutters.

“Hunh-uh. Wanna watch you lick it.” Oh dear - he knew this game better than she did. He cocked the eyebrow and popped a spoonful of chocolate in his mouth, leaving the spoon to rest there, the ice cream melting over his tongue, and watched her expectantly with the spoon handle protruding from between his lips.

“About fuckin’ time!” The Wolverine gave Logan a mental slap up the backside of the head. Logan merely scratched an itchy spot and smoothed the back of his hair. He knew how to handle flirty women.

Refusing to back down from the challenge, Rogue boldly stepped between Logan’s spread knees, lightly pressing herself against his jeans, and raised the scoop slowly to chin level. The vanilla ice cream was oozing down the handle now, a rivulet nearing her bare fingers. Her other bare hand went behind her back to protect him from an accidental touch while they played their game, but the posture made her breasts thrust forward. So much the better for him, apparently, so she stood her ground.

Starting at the one drop now touching her finger, she extended that finger and slowly drew it into her mouth, sucking the ice cream off with a smacking sound and a soft ‘ahhhhh.’ Then the tip of her tongue started working back the trail of ice cream, lightly lapping each drop away, until she reached the bowl of the scoop. She had stared Logan straight in the eyes the whole time, but his gaze was dancing over her pink tongue, the tip swirling through the ice cream, the full lips savoring the sweetness. He felt himself grow hard and knew it would be obvious to her, but he didn’t care. It was a game, and they were both playing it well. He felt, more than heard, the Wolverine start purring inside his head again.

“Ohhhh, yeah... more. Draw her out. Play with her. Do not fuck this up.”

He reached for the now-empty spoon in his mouth and popped it out at the same time Marie slid the bowl of the scoop into her mouth and sucked it clean in one slow, erotic pull. She playfully clinked the scoop against his spoon before tossing it aside and grabbed her own bowl and spoon. Bare hands be damned: he would just have to watch himself, and even if he did touch her, she likely wouldn’t hurt him too badly before one of them pulled away. He had the high-performance healing factor, after all, so the game was on!

Rogue scooped a half-spoon from her cherry royale and slid it over her tongue, letting the stuff melt and run, then followed it with vanilla which she licked bit by bit from the bowl of the spoon like a cat as Logan sat riveted, watching, his ice cream melting in the bowl in his hands.

“Eat it, or you’ll have to drink it.”

“Uhhh...” he said distractedly and scooped another huge bite. A chunk of the chocolate fell on his hand and he held it just below Rogue’s eyes, waiting as the drop slid between two of his fingers, then out came his tongue to slither between his fingers, lapping up the chocolate slowly. Rogue’s eyes grew wide and her lips parted, but she said nothing. Picking up her spoon again, she took a bit of cherry and slid it across her bottom lip, letting the cream melt and start to run before swirling her tongue over her open lips and muttering ‘mmm....cherry....’ in a sultry whisper. She looked Logan straight in the eyes.

“You want a cherry, baby?”

“You offerin’ one, darlin’?” His voice had gone all husky and very dangerous. Rogue swore at that very moment the temperature in the room rose by at least twenty degrees. Not wanting to back down, and not wanting to push things beyond the point of no return, she deftly scooped a chunk of dark cherry from her bowl and held it toward Logan.

“Chocolate and cherry are soooo very fine together,” she gave him a knowing glance as she let her accent thicken up. “Open wide, sugar. I got somethin’ good for you.” His lips parted and she slid the cherry slowly into his mouth. He chewed for five seconds before leaning forward and whispering into her ear.

“I thought I was supposed to say that.” He chuckled softly while Rogue felt another blush start, and before she could form a comeback, Logan had scooped up another spoonful of chocolate and dashed a smear of it on the tip of her nose before putting his bowl aside.

With a small squeal of surprise, Rogue reached to wipe away the ice cream, but Logan caught her arms and held them at her sides. She twitched at the nearness of his bare hands to hers, but stood stock still while he held her.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned in again, then quick as a snake his tongue slid out and licked the ice cream from her skin. Her bare skin.... She gasped again at his audacity, his recklessness. The man truly knew no boundaries.

“Logan, be careful...” Rogue breathed the words at him, not wanting to risk her touch hurting him, yet unwilling to pull away to a safe distance. The soft light spilling into the kitchen from the doorway made his eyes glitter a sharp green and she sensed that the whole flirting experiment had brought someone else awake. Rogue felt him start forward, pushing her slightly away as he slid off the counter to stand before her, his hands still gripping her arms lightly. She felt one hand leave her arm and he took her bowl from her hands, putting it behind them but grabbing the spoon.

Still holding her by one arm, he eased the creamy spoon over her lower lip again, just as she had done, and again moved in and lapped the ice cream away with rapid licks of his tongue. Never maintaining contact long enough for her mutation to kick in and zap him, he licked her bottom lip clean, then brushed his lips lightly against hers. She back-stepped bit by bit until she was against the refrigerator door, but he moved in against her with each step until he was pressing her against the cool metal. Releasing her arm, he let both of his hands slide through her hair, stroking it’s dark, silky strands between his fingers, raising her face to his. What she saw in his eyes made her catch and hold her breath for a moment.

Rogue had seen the Wolverine take possession of Logan in fights, and she combined that knowledge with what she’d gotten from him being in her head. She knew the signs: the intensely focused stare, the rapid breaths, upper lip pulled tight in a snarl, sharp white teeth exposed, a slight tremor in his hands, body tensed for anything. She could feel his hard torso against her, pressing, wanting, dominating by his sheer size and strength.

She watched in a combination of fear and fascination as she witnessed the struggle between man and feral that was happening right in front of her. Logan would never have pushed beyond that first lick of ice cream done in playfulness. The Wolverine, however, would likely have done a lot more by now if not for Logan’s struggle to keep control over a nearly uncontrollable part of his own feral nature.

Logan lost.

Weaving his long fingers carefully through her hair, he gently held Rogue’s head and made her look straight into his glittering eyes.

“I’m already in your head, ain’t I, baby?” Rogue nodded a silent affirmation as she felt nearly hypnotized by the man who still held her against the refrigerator door, one thigh pressed between hers now, pressed and pinned, but she felt no desire to draw away. His voice was pure sex, all male, quiet enough that no one else in the room would have heard if they hadn’t been completely alone. “You afraid of me?”

Rogue found her voice, but barely. “No. I’m not afraid of you. But you should be afraid of me.”

“Well, I’m not.” He suddenly pressed a brief but brutal kiss on her lips, then separating just enough to break contact with her skin for a moment, he kissed her again, gentler, and broke the contact slower this time. Rogue was nearly breathless from the heat, the contact, the overwhelming sensation of skin on her skin; HIS skin on her skin. His lips on hers... she thought she might wake up in a moment and think this had been a dream, but he closed in again and kissed her softly, deeply, lingeringly, before she felt the connection open and he trembled against her for a moment. Jerking her head to the side and breaking the kiss herself, Rogue felt him sway slightly before he pulled away from her and leaned heavily against the counter, freeing her from being pinned in place. He was breathing hard and seemed a little stunned.

“Logan, are you crazy??!?” She yelled the words, not caring if anyone was near enough to hear them. He was shaking off the zap and coming at her again, hands pressed against the fridge door, framing her shoulders.

“Nope. Just provin’ a point, baby, that YOU don’t have to be afraid to step outside your comfort zone, your personal space, at least not with me. If anyone can handle you, darlin’, I can!”

Rogue thought that Logan was getting control of himself again. The buzzing tension that heralded the Wolverine flare-up was easing away. She decided to try taking command of the situation again.

“Logan, you are so arrogant!” Rogue’s Mississippi accent grew stronger as she bluntly reproached him. He seemed to sense that she was teasing him again.

With a serpent’s smile, Logan pushed back. “You’re stuck-up.” The left eyebrow rose.

“You are... are... are... uncouth.” Her tone went haughty and cool.

“Yeah, right. You’re a pansy, little girl.” He was now back to teasing her again, getting control of himself. She drew a deep breath and relaxed a little more.

“You need some culture,” she said smugly.

“You need to get laid,” he stated flatly.

“LOGAN! You have no sense of propriety; no manners at all. Someone needs to teach you a lesson!” Her voice was rising in volume.

Rogue folded her arms across her chest and pouted the lip he had been licking chocolate from just moments ago. Logan suddenly heard and smelled Scott nearby, but made no mention of it. He crossed his arms over his chest, mocking her stance and matching her volume.

“And who’s gonna teach me that lesson, sweetpea? You think you’re woman enough?!?”

“Hell yeah!” Rogue launched herself at Logan, body-bumping him back against the counter, and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. Taking the lead from his earlier advances, she planted a hard, hot, mercifully brief kiss on his mouth, shocking him into dropping his folded arms and grabbing her to keep their balance. She copy-catted his earlier advances further, and laced her fingers carefully through his wild hair before kissing him again, quick but tender.

At that moment, Scott walked through the door.

“What is all the shouting in here? ROGUE!”

With a yelp of surprise, Rogue jumped away from Logan, her left arm flailing out for balance and sending his bowl to the floor where it shattered and splattered, leaving her once again barefoot among broken glass and molten ice cream.

“Well, there’s your number three,” Logan stated matter-of-factly.

“What are you two doing in here and yelling at...” Scott checked his watch, “...nearly one in the morning? And Rogue, do I need to remind you this is a school, and technically Logan is one of your teachers? And do you want a list of the rules that you’ve both broken?”

“So much for tonight’s fun,” Rogue muttered under her breath, low enough that only Logan could hear her. She looked down and noticed the chocolate ice cream splashed across the front of her already beer-soaked nightgown. “Well, I think this gown is toast. Beer ala mode, indeed, and I doubt if chocolate stains will wash out of white.”

Scott’s ears perked up. “Beer? You gave her beer, Logan? That would explain a lot of what I just walked in on. You know better than to give beer to a student.”

“Shut it, Cyke. The beer’s mine. It just got spilled on her. She had a hormonal ice cream run. It’s a long story and I ain’t tellin’. Just get the broom from the closet, will ya? We got a mess here.”

Rogue interrupted the conversation before the two men could snipe at each other further. “Um, Logan? I’m standing barefoot in the middle of this mess. Can you lift me out, please?”

“Sure, darlin’, just tuck in.” He made the mummy gesture again, and she complied. Sweeping her off her feet, he stepped carefully away from the slippery area and walked past Scott as he brought out the broom. “Kitchen’s all yours, bub. Don’t let us keep you up. ‘Night.” Logan strode away before Scott could protest the mess they left for him to clean up.

Walking quickly through the hallway, Logan heard some rather colorful language from the direction of the kitchen and smiled to himself. As they reached the stairs leading to the upper floor bedrooms, he gently set Rogue on her feet again, then stood silently, awkwardly waiting for her to say something. She took the hint.

“Are we okay with each other, sugar? I mean, I didn’t hurt you or offend you, did I?”

“Aw hell, Marie - I was just thinkin’ about asking you the same thing. I wasn’t exactly considerate of you back there. I guess things just got out of hand.” He brought his eyes up to meet hers. “Nah, I’m okay. I know you were just playin’ around. You better get upstairs now and get cleaned up for bed. I’ll take you into town tomorrow and buy you a new nightgown since that one’s ruined, and it’s my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, but I’m no fool; I’ll accept that offer.” She started up the steps, then turned back to regard him from slightly above. “And no, in case you’re wondering; I wasn’t playin’ around.” She turned again quickly and ran up the steps before he could respond, saving them any further awkwardness.

Watching her go, Logan slid his fingers into his pockets and waited until she was out of earshot.

“I know, baby; I wasn’t playin’ around either.”