The young woman known only as Rogue was in a reflective mood as she sat at the massive oak table in the comfortable kitchen of Charles Xavier's mansion. Looking at some Vancouver travel guides, she pulled her long chestnut hair back and up into a knot at the top of her head, then grabbed a green plastic clip and secured it tightly. Hair out of her way, she turned her attention back to her guidebooks, finding yet another interesting Bed & Breakfast, this one just outside of Vancouver. She wrote down the name and the phone number and a few notes on the pros and cons of staying there.

Putting down her pen she reached for her glass of iced tea, taking a long sip of the sweet beverage. Things inside this part of the mansion were quiet - most of the activity was down at the pool, setting up for tonight's event. Rogue looked out the large bay window that framed a view of the mansion's extensive gardens and pondered the roundabout path a girl from Podunk, Mississippi took to end up in a mansion in Westchester County, New York.

Her name hadn't been Rogue when she left Mississippi and her family at sixteen, running from an identity that seemed to begin and end with her mutation. Her family hadn't forced her out; it had been more of a pushing her away until she couldn't stay there any longer. Even then, Rogue had realized she couldn't handle the fear that never left her parents' eyes, or worse, the loathing she knew they didn't even realize was there. So six months to the day after she had put her almost boyfriend in a coma with a kiss, she left home, becoming the mysterious Rogue, woman of the road. Hitching rides up to Alaska, she finally reached Ketchikan just as her money ran out.

A teary phone call home that first night when she reached Ketchikan, and a call to Mississippi each year on Mother's Day was her total contact with her family. Mama had wired a thousand dollars to help her out after that first call. Rogue had refused to accept anything more from them since then. She had accepted that money as a gift only after her attempts at repayment had been mailed back to her. Using her mother's money she had bought some forged identification that listed her age as nineteen. Most places wouldn't have looked too carefully at her anyway, but she was being cautious. Finding a job at a salmon hatchery, she moved into an efficiency apartment within walking distance. The hatchery job had lasted four months, the constant smell of fish getting old fast. A few months after finding an entry-level job at the city tourism board working the switchboard, she accepted a better position as a guide coordinator.

Leaving the tourism board a few months later, Rogue found her longest lasting job. She spent the next two years as a day trip guide for the many cruise ships that sailed the Alaskan coast. It was a position that allowed Rogue to interact with people while to still maintaining the distance her mutation had forced upon her lifestyle. She boarded the ships in Ketchikan, then guided the day tours when they arrived in places like Juneau and Glacier Bay National Park. Alaska had been a good place for her; the ingrained respect for privacy allowed her body covering attire to go unquestioned, even in the warmth of summer. On the personal front, her constantly on-the-move lifestyle managed to keep the questions about her lack of a social life to a minimum. Overall, the tour guide gig had been a good one; the continually changing groups of tourists didn't have a lot of time to notice or question her attire and personal quirks.

Rogue's life had changed significantly when five years ago she met Charlie and Ororo Xavier. Passengers on the cruise ship The North Star, the wheelchair bound Xavier and his lovely wife had needed a personal guide who could make sure their destinations were wheelchair accessible. The head tour director of the North Star had assigned them to Rogue, knowing she wouldn't mind a small group. The Xaviers hadn't questioned her about the gloves or thin windbreaker she always wore, even in the heat of the day. It was obvious to her that both had noticed the care she took not to touch anyone else skin to skin, but at no point during the first twelve days of their two-week cruise did the Xaviers mention it.

It was the second to the last day of the Xaviers' cruise when Rogue found the couple in their cabin, waiting to have a word with her. And what a discussion it had been. Rogue had wondered if they were mutants themselves, so she wasn't surprised to find her suspicions confirmed. Charlie was a telepath/telekinetic and Ororo had the ability to manipulate the weather. While that explained the feeling of kinship Rogue had felt for them, it was the second thing that caught her attention.

Charlie and Ororo owned Big Bald Head Productions, a new film studio back in New York. The studio's specialty was skinflicks with mutants in them. The couple surprised Rogue with a job offer to come and work in their all-mutant studio. Upon discovering that she was only nineteen, two years too young to work at BBHP, they proposed another arrangement. In a move that completely astonished Rogue; they offered to pay for her to attend college. The extravagant offer seemed like a scam, but for some reason, Rogue felt she could trust them. Charlie made it clear that once she finished school she was under no obligation to work for BBHP, she wasn't selling herself, and if she agreed, she was only taking something freely offered.

Leaving Alaska, Rogue returned to the lower forty-eight with the Xaviers on their private jet, the Blackbird, agreeing to spend a week at their mansion-studio. She met the others who worked there, mutants who didn't run from the young woman with the life force absorbing skin. People who didn't flinch when she wore short sleeves, even knowing what her skin could do if touched. Truly comfortable for the first time in years, the next week Rogue started taking her equivalency tests for high school graduation, determined to start college in the fall.

And she did.

Heading to Mendel College, Rogue joined some of the others the Xaviers were sending to the school. Kitty, Jubilee, and Remy were seniors the year Rogue moved into the townhouse the Xaviers maintained on campus, while St. John and Bobby were juniors. After graduation, Kitty chose not to work at BBHP; instead she started working at an accounting firm in the city. Like most of the mutants the Xaviers took into their lives but who chose not to work with them, Kitty came to visit them when she could. The mansion wasn't just a work place, it was home to a varied group of mutants. Jubilee and Remy had jumped into making BBHP flicks right away, their carefree natures in harmony with the spirit of the mansion. St. John and Bobby had followed in their footsteps a year later.

A year ago, degree in hand, Rogue made her decision to work at BBHP. She and the other students had spent their summers there, meeting the people, learning how the business worked. BBHP had come a long way since it started eight years ago. These days, if a person rented high quality Mutie Porn, they were most likely renting a BBHP flick. Xavier and Company didn't make as many movies as the other studios, the small group of stars and crew they had would have made that unfeasible, but they did try to make flicks that weren't horrifically bad. They also tried to make flicks that would appeal to both mutant and non-mutant porn aficionados alike.

Rogue had started in the most entry of entry level of positions, fluffer. Granted, her job wasn't the most glamorous, but she was working hard at it, she really was. She was determined to be the best fluffer BBHP ever had, which she hoped, would one day allow her to land a starring role. While she knew that some of her college classmates would think it an odd, if not distasteful ambition, she really wanted the chance. Rogue thought she had the looks; she was short, admittedly, but she was built and had firm breasts and nicely rounded bottom. But for now, her job was to excite the actors or keep them primed in between takes.

For the most part it was a week to week job, a fluffer only being needed when a scene required the stars to be away from their partners with whom they generally made their movies. It was an unglamorous job, but then Rogue had found a lot of movie making unglamorous. It was odd how non-arousing it could be. She knew that many people would think blow and handjobs would create some kind of arousal, but so far it had been like playing doctor with her cousin. Some situations had been surreal, like the night a shoot had been interrupted by rain; Rogue had spent a half an hour sitting on the sofa between St. John and Bobby, a penis in each hand. She gave them both a handjob while all three watched Star Trek re-runs, the two guys eating popcorn as her hands stroked them until the shoot could start again. Johnny and Bobby's 'Fire and Ice' series of movies were considered the best that Gay Mutie Porn had to offer.

Another reason she wanted to try her hand at acting was that in the five years since she met Charlie and 'Ro back in Alaska, she was finally gaining control over her mutation. Working with Charlie, who had doctorates in physics and biology, she had acquired the ability to stop her body from instinctively activating the mutation. With every session Rogue and Charlie had, she was able to fine-tune her control over the trigger. She still used the gloves when giving handjobs and condoms when giving head, she didn't want to tempt fate, but she knew the day when she could touch someone skin to skin, and make love to someone, his skin touching hers, was not far off.

It was late afternoon on a beautiful Indian summer day and Rogue was still sitting in the kitchen, Fodor's having replaced Frommer's, her list of possible attractions and accommodations growing with each page. She was munching on a pizza she had reheated in the microwave. It tasted like cardboard with sauce, but she was hungry and not in the mood to cook. She looked up curiously as Jubilee came into the kitchen, yellow robe fluttering her in her wake like a bright tail feather.

"Roguey! What, or should I say, who, up?"

"Nada and nothin' right now, Jubes. I thought you were shooting tonight?"

"Yeah, we have the big scene left to do tonight for 'I'd Druid For You'. I gotta get down to body makeup in a few..."

Both women looked up as they heard a door slam and yelling coming from the living room.

"You son of a bitch... There is no way... Do you really think it's so much fun..." Another door opened. Then, "... fuck you Wolverine!" Which was followed by a final, very loud slam.

"Sounded like the front door," Jubilee said placidly, not one to be excited by such things.

"Sounded like Christy just quit," Rogue replied.

"Crap. Wolvie is the lead in the Druid climax." The young woman sighed. "Come on, let's go see how he is."

The original stars for Druid had backed out, so Jubilee and Remy had taken over the roles. Scott and Jean Summers, or as they were professionally known, Cyclops and Phoenix, were taking a temporary break from the business. At eight months along with their first child, Jean was no longer in the mood to make movies. The couple was a huge draw, their last film, 'Red Shades and Mindbending Lust', an epic involving Cyclops, Phoenix, and in a special menage a trois, the Wolverine, was the best selling title in BBHP's history to date.

The Wolverine was the biggest name right now at BBHP, and had been since he started working with them six years ago. Wolverine was the biggest thing at BBHP, period. Jean said that she wouldn't do another film until after the baby was born, especially not with Wolverine. Rogue overheard the redhead telling Ororo that she was sure the kid knew in utero that Wolverine was circumcised.

It obvious to all that Wolverine on film was like recording money onto a videocassette. He was well muscled, well endowed, quiet - even sulky - and he had claws. Big, long claws of metal. The first shoot that Rogue had seen them at she had been shocked, but then she found it kind of... sexy. Which, amazingly enough, wasn't a novel opinion of them. While he mingled with the rest of the mansion's inhabitants, when he had time between shoots he left in his old pickup and camper, usually heading up north. Rogue's interactions with Wolverine had been limited, their schedules during her college years being at odds with his. She had never fluffed Wolverine; he had - or maybe she should say had had - his own personal fluffer, a mid-level telepath/telekinetic named Christy.

Following Jubilee down the hall, Rogue wondered for a minute why she was going with, but as was usual with the group that had gone to school with the energetic woman, Rogue followed her as she led the way to the living room. Jubilee had always had that effect on them.

Knocking softly on the door Jubilee inquired, "Wolvie?" Jubilee had nicknames for everyone, whether they appreciated them or not.

"Yeah?"

Jubilee took the question as an invitation, and pulling Rogue by a gloved hand, entered the library. Wolverine, in a black silk robe, was sitting on the library sofa looking incredibly calm, even bored as he read the newspaper.

"You okay, dude?"

"I'm fine Jubilee." His voice was cool, anyone else would have taken the hint and retreated. But Jubilee was not one to take hints when she didn't want to, and Rogue was interested in watching this play out.

"Was that Christy?"

"Yeah. She decided that she could get a better gig someplace else."

"You okay with that, Wolverine?" Jubilee asked.

He lowered the paper, and looked at the young woman, the dog tags he always wore shining dully in the light of the reading lamp. "Jubilee, she was an employee, not my fuckin' prom date."

"Okay. You gonna be ready for tonight?"

"Always get the job done, Jubilee. You know that."

"Okay, babe. I'm heading down to make up. See ya later."

With that she left, leaving Rogue staring at Wolverine. Brown eyes met hazel. "You sure you're okay, Wolverine?"

His eyebrow raised at her concern. "Just peachy, darlin'."

With a nod Rogue turned around and left the room, heading back to her cold pizza, feeling his eyes still on her as she closed the door.

---

An hour later, Rogue was ignoring the blaring commercials on the TV set in the kitchen, still working on finding the best route and places to stay during her vacation. Hearing a faint whirring sound, she turned and watched as Charlie wheeled into the kitchen and parked at a spot next to where she sat at the large oak table. His smooth head reflecting the rays from the track lighting, he gave her a kind smile and asked if he could speak with her for a minute. She had an idea of what he would want.

"Rogue, I was rather hoping you could help us out tonight, I'm afraid that we could use someone to help out with - "

"Wolverine?" Rogue finished for him, giving him a knowing smile. There were somethings you didn't have to be a psychic to figure out.

"Errr... yes. He is the consummate professional, of course, but I think it would be good for him to have some... stimulation for the final scene. It would be a great favor if you could help out tonight." Charlie gave her a look of relief, and she could have sworn there was a bit of merriment lurking in his blue eyes.

A number of good reasons to volunteer to fluff the star went through her mind, as well as the memory of Wolverine's physique in that black silk robe. "Sure, Charlie. I can do that," she told him, turning her attention from her recollection of muscles beneath silk back to the conversation at hand.

Charlie rested a hand on her shoulder, giving her arm a light squeeze. "If you would, my dear. Then come down to the set if you would? We might need an extra hand with the cum shots. Hank wants the scene to be a big finale."

Rogue knew that this could be the start of something good; a shiver ran down her spine as she remembered those eyes. Getting up, she put her empty glass in the sink. "I'll go down to his dressing room now, then. When do we need to be on the set?"

"In about half an hour, I should think. We have all the scenes shot up to the finale." Charlie said. "Thank you, my dear. It is very kind of you to help out."

"No problem, Charlie."

She watched him wheel out the door, his wheelchair headed toward the outdoor pool where the finale for 'I'd Druid For You' was to be shot. Rogue started thinking of what she would need to bring with her before she headed down to the cabanas that served as dressing rooms when they were doing a shoot down by the gardens or the pool.

As she climbed the stairs to her room, her mind was already poolside, trying to think of the best way to fluff the biggest star BBHP had.

---

Ten minutes and one quick stop later, she was at Wolverine's dressing room. The door was open and she could see him sitting on the sofa, just like he had been in the library. He was still in the black robe, but it was hanging open and he was reading a book. His dog tags were absent, no doubt having been removed before the blonde wig went on, covering his short dark hair. She glanced at the cover; slightly amused it was the same Jonathan Kellerman mystery she was currently reading.

"Heya, Wolverine."

"Rogue. Charlie said you'd be comin'." He looked thoughtful as stood up and tossed the book onto a nearby chair.

"Well, I don't think I'm the one he wants to come," she cracked, glad to see the faint smile that touched his lips.

"Yeah," he started to run his hand through his hair, or more precisely, the blonde wig he was currently sporting for the role of Thor, Druid Priest, then stopped. "Been to hair already, but Charlie asked if you could do the oil up..." he trailed off.

Rogue looked at the muscly chest. "I think I can handle that." This time she got a full-fledged grin, his white teeth bright in the relative shadows of the room. "Wolverine, you ummm... know about my mutation?"

"Absorption by skin, right?"

"Yeah. Charlie and I are working to control it, but it's still a bit hit and miss sometimes. I'll use the gloves, but I have this if you want to start out more full-body," Rogue said as she pulled a sheet sized piece of thin cotton mesh from her bag. "But either way, you should wear these." She handed him a pair of latex gloves.

"Why don't we start out full body?" he answered, pulling out the futon sofa to make a flat bed. He tugged on the gloves, looking at her expectantly.

"All right. Why don't you lay down then? Take off your robe." His answer had taken her somewhat by surprise; usually it was just your basic blow or handjob. Then again, with the coupley situation here at BBHP, there wasn't much call for a fluffer to handle the stars before shooting began. Generally, the fluffers came in when there was a long period of time before the next scene could be shot, when the star would become... disengaged. Rogue had fluffed Bobby a week ago when 'Fire and Ice: Flames of Ice' was shot, and as always it was just a handjob. Scott preferred blowjobs while Remy liked both, depending on his mood, and what he and Jubilee had done to each other beforehand.

When Wolverine was stretched out on the bed, Rogue considered him for a moment, looking at the thoroughly appealing chest, the manhood impressive even as it hung mostly lax between his legs. Without looking at his face she knew that he was watching her closely, and a warm feeling started low in her belly. She removed the sweatshirt she was wearing, then her sweat pants. Underneath she wore a sheer body suit made of the same cotton mesh as the sheet; she'd found the body suits easier to wash than sweats when it came to the body oil.

With a practiced flick of her wrists, she covered him with the sheet, from neck to toes, then followed him onto the bed; her knees on either side of his hips, her warm body in contact with his at all times. She started by brushing her breasts against his chest while her pelvis perched on his. She let the friction prod his body to attention, letting the pressure tease as many nerve endings as possible to sit up and dance. He was solid under her, his body a mass warm of muscles and metal.

Moving down his body she rubbed her breasts into his crotch, feeling his penis getting harder as the blood surged and engorged the sensitive flesh. Her sex resting on his upper thighs, Rogue stretched back along his body, making sure to stroke herself against him she bit his nipples gently through the fabric. She was startled when he grabbed her head and pulled her back with a single command.

"Harder."

Feeling his cock twitch beneath her, she was happy to oblige. She bit harder, then soothed him with warm and wet strokes of her tongue. Her hand slid down his body, playing with that thick flesh surging under the thin cotton veil. Giving him a smile, which to her surprise he returned, she continued to fondle his swelling length, his hips twisting upwards when her warm hands encircled and stroked him. Making sure the areas of sheet covering his nipples were wet, she blew softly, smiling when he rewarded her with a shiver. Her tongue once again soothed him, a pleasantly arousing hum running through both of them.

It had never felt this personal before, she thought as her mouth skimmed his brawny shoulders. Nor had a fluffee ever been so focused on her. She felt a shock when she realized she becoming aroused. Arousing Wolverine wasn't anything like playing with her cousin. It felt good.

When he started to growl, a low, sexy, sound, Rogue's shocked brown eyes flew back to look into his intense hazel ones. The vibrations came from deep in his chest, causing her to tremble. As their bodies shook at the intimate contact, Rogue delighted in the feeling of power. Shaking off the arousal that continued to surge unbidden, she slid down, making certain her breasts pressed into every sinewy furrow in his chest and stomach.

Rogue settled herself at his feet, and pulling the fabric, gave herself enough to form a pouch. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, her hands never stopping their caresses; stroking from the sensitive skin of his inner thighs to his balls. She was strangely disappointed when he tried to thrust deeper into her mouth, his arousal peaking, the wet spot on the sheet coming from both sides. She felt the pulse inside that sensitive length of flesh as it throbbed strongly against her fabric protected lips.

Unfortunately, that clear signal of total arousal meant she had to cut this short; her job was to excite him, get him hard for the scene, not to suck him off. While her mind was telling her that she had to stop, the rest of her body obeyed much more slowly. It seemed like forever until she eased back, his hardness falling from her lips.

"Wolverine?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"We need to get you oiled, then I can do a little more before we go down to the set."

"Fuck." He sat up and looked at her, her nipples hard under the thin cotton, and she had a feeling he could smell her arousal. He looked down at his straining manhood. "Fuck. Sometimes this job ain't worth it." He watched as she got off the bed, then followed, using the sheet to wipe the droplet of pre-cum off the tip of his blood-swollen manhood.

Trying to conceal her own unsteadiness, Rogue went to the table and picked up the tube of peppermint flavored massage oil. She told him to stand on the mat next to the table, and with a shadowed glance at her, he did as she asked. She poured some of the oil into her gloved hands, breathing on it to warm it up. With a precision learned from watching the Phoenix and Cyclops series, "Mindbending Massage", she smoothed the oil on his shoulders. She worked it in, leaving his skin with a shiny luster. She motioned him to lean down so she could get the grooves of his neck. Consenting, he bent at the waist and Rogue was shocked by the sensation of his warm breath on her breasts as she molded herself to him in order to work the oil into the firm muscles. His breathing was slow, and her body gave tiny shivers every time his breath whispered onto her rigid nipples. A shock ran through her when his tongue slipped out, licking one of the hard peaks.

That wasn't something that usually happened to a fluffer. Continuing to massage the oil into his neck, she felt him flex, heard the cracking sound as he did. Running her fingers around to his throat, she gently rubbed the oil in. Her hands strayed down over his shoulders to his biceps, and for some reason she never asked him to move. When his lips closed over a hardened nipple, she felt a shock, but no real surprise. Letting the humming pleasure of the caress run through her, she didn't comment when his large hands encircled her waist, and lifted her up slightly so he no longer had to bend down to let his mouth work the tight nubbin.

She continued to knead his muscles, even as he moved to the other breast. Her gloved hands moved to his other bicep, the oil long since absorbed by his skin. They were both lost in a world of sensation, the real purpose of this touching and stroking forgotten until a crash from outside the cabana interrupted their concentration.

"Wolverine?" she asked, regretting it when his lips abandoned her nipple, leaving the cotton covering wet and molded to her aching flesh.

"Yeah?"

"I need more oil."

He said nothing, only nodded and lowered her, releasing his grip on her hips, his eyes never leaving hers as she leaned down for the bottle of oil. Pouring some more into her palm, she started again, this time standing to his side, her body still close to his, her warm center pressed close to his thigh. Wolverine smiled, his nostrils flaring, inhaling the scent of her arousal, but he didn't move. He just stood still as she finished oiling the densely muscled arm.

She had him turn around and ran her hands over his back, this time moving farther down, moving to his waist then up. Rogue rubbed hard on the small of his back, where she was rewarded with another ragged growl, followed by a thrust of his hips. Every ridge and valley of his lower back was oiled and massaged; her hands alternately pressing firm and deep, then softly, just a feather light stroke. Moving lower, she worked his buttocks, giving the glutes the same firm then light strokes, her reward a growl that turned into a deep purring sound.

She massaged the oil into the leg muscles from the back, her hands making the tight muscles loose, while at the same time her touch caused his whole body to tense. Finishing the backs of his thighs, she told him to turn around, and on her knees was presented with his straining and engorged cock protruding from the shock of springy dark hairs. She thought offhandedly that he must have an amazing cardiovascular system to pump the blood so strongly.

Rogue continued with more oil as she moved up his calves then his thighs again. She took special care on the sensitive inner skin of his thighs. A quick oiling of his cock and balls, but she couldn't let him find release; regrettably this was fluffing, not satisfaction time. That left only his chest, where she made sure she rubbed his flat and hard nipples until he growled at her. She found the low sound addictive, shaking slightly as she felt his manhood twitching, trapped between their bodies as she massaged him. One look back into his eyes and she knew they could be back on that bed in a minute, both moving toward satisfaction.

"Wolverine?" The knock and call came from outside the door, and a second later Hank came into the room. Rogue stepped away from Wolverine, knowing that the blue, furry director noticed, but glad he wouldn't say anything about how close the she had been to his star and the still drying circles of cotton that highlighted her nipples. "Ahhh... I see you have been well prepared for the final scene. Rogue, Wolverine, if you will, we will go forth and finish this masterpiece."

Their glazed eyes met, and almost in a daze, Rogue put her sweats back on and Wolverine shrugged on his black robe. He tied it loosely; his well oiled chest shimmering, his erect penis swaying in front of him, poking out from the robe.

They followed Hank down to the field of grass by the large outdoor pool where Jubilee and the rest of the cast and crew were waiting, ready to wrap up the final act of the cinematic masterpiece, 'I'd Druid For You'.

---

The set itself was simple. While many of BBHP's movies were what could be considered romances, or sensual instructional vids like the Cyclops and Phoenix 'Mind Bending' series; sometimes they also did whimsical cheese like this particular gem. Most of the movies incorporated the stars' mutations and talents, but the main point was to get the audience off. Though admittedly, sometimes there was a tongue firmly wedged in BBHP's collective cheek.

For 'I'd Druid for You', there was a 'sacrificial altar' set up on a dais just in front of the pool, which had been transformed into a dark and murky cistern. Large stone gargoyle statuary stood here and there, and to the side, a large stone carving of the sun and moon.

Jubilee smiled as they approached, but didn't move, 'chained' as she was to the sacrificial altar. "Dudes! Hey, good to see you, Roguey. You too, Wolvie. And big little Wolvie. Never seen him quite that excited. This should be a good scene," she bubbled.

"Jubilee, please, we need to get this scene finished while we still have some faint light." Hank looked at Jubilee over the bridge of his glasses, his attention half on his stars, half on the crew person talking to him.

"You bet, Hank. One vestal virgin awaits," Jubilee snickered.

Hank motioned to Remy, Jubilee's paramour and current co-star, and he removed the sheet spread over Jubes to keep her warm in the cool night air. Watching Wolverine out of the corner of one eye, Rogue observed the hubbub of the final preparation. She knew that the orgy scene had been filmed two nights ago, but rain had delayed the filming of this, the final sacrifice scene. One of the crew gave Rogue a flexible plastic squeeze bottle, the kind restaurants used for ketchup and mustard. The first time she had been handed one she hadn't had a clue what to do with it. She quickly discovered they contained liquid soap to mimic ejaculate during group cum shots. Messy, but as Jubilee had once said, the soap made cleaning up after these kinds of shoots quicker.


Charlie and 'Ro were looking over the script, checking to make sure the scene looked enough like the last time they had shot down here, two nights ago. As much as they could, Charlie and Hank liked to get the scenes to mesh; it seemed to make the process of making the videos seem a little less slapdash.

Wolverine, looking dark, blonde, and fearsome, as befitted the head of a pseudo-Druidic cult, was draped in a black cloak. It was conveniently opened in front to show off his impressive manhood, and, Rogue thought to herself, her hard work. At the call of 'Action!' from Hank, Wolverine strode to the dais above the altar upon which Jubilee was 'chained' naked and spread eagle.

"Oh Druin, we beg you with this sacrifice. Bless our harvest. Make our loins strong with young, so that we may continue in our sacred worship of you."

Rogue had to admit the Wolverine was good. He'd actually managed to spit out that dialogue without laughing. With that incantation, a whole group of black clad mutant men holding and stroking their erect penises of varying size came forward and surrounded Jubilee, who was furiously trying to free herself from her 'chains'. The mutants started to ejaculate onto her writhing body as Wolverine intoned, "With the sacrifice of our strong and virile seed, we beg for your favor."

At that Rogue and a few others crawled up so while hidden by the masturbating supplicant's robes, they could shower the sacrifice with the dish soap ejaculate. Rogue was so focused on staying out of the shot that she never noticed the hazel eyes watching her as strong hands began to stroke toward release.

"Druin, we give all we are to you! Glory to you forever!"

And with that, Wolverine came, the camera following the stream of sperm as it arced. It was in that moment that Jubilee broke free of her chains and started showering the mutants with her 'sparklies'. As the 'wounded' mutant men fell, Jubilee, with a furious yank, pulled free of the altar and ran down the steps, pushing the high Druidic Wolverine off the dais into the 'cistern' behind him.

Once in the water, Wolverine waited on the side of the pool, just out of sight of the camera, hidden behind the dark plastic foliage. Some of the crew threw dry ice into the pool, causing a mist to form.

The cameras focused on Jubilee as she ran up the hill to embrace Remy, who had been fighting his way to the dais through another group of Druidic Mutant Men. Turning, Jubilee sprayed the druids with more charged plasma. The black clad men turned and ran for the trees. Remy, having grabbed a few sticks, charged and threw them at the retreating Druids, who continued their break for freedom. Taking his long coat off, Remy wrapped it around Jubilee, the camera having shot enough scenes of the nude sacrifice's triumph over the evil druids.

On Hank's signal, Wolverine ducked under the water. Rogue turned her attention back to the 'cistern'. The second camera panned along the dark and misty deck, and then took a long shot, returning to move in close to the pool. The dry ice mist was blowing off, and then - snikt - three metal claws shot up from the water. The set was silent for the count of five, needing the shot to last long enough to set up the planned sequel.

"Cut!" Hank yelled and looked over to Charlie and 'Ro, who nodded enthusiastically from the storyboard. "Now that's good film. I believe we have indeed succeeded tonight. Congratulations, everyone." A wet Wolverine, the black cloak wet and clinging, climbed up the steps, out of the pool.

The shoot finished, the crew began to clean up, hosing the altar down and moving the equipment back to the storage buildings. The actors pulled on clothes and start to drift in the direction of the house once their assigned jobs were finished. Rogue watched as Sylvia, the hair and make up lady, brought Wolverine a towel and his robe. With a nod he took the towel, pushing the blonde wig and wet cloak at her. Finished drying himself off, he threw the towel on a table and shrugged into the robe.

"Roguey! You comin' back up to the house for a late supper?" Jubilee, back in her bright yellow robe, Remy in tow, bounced up, covered in drying ejaculate and liquid soap, looking the worse for wear.

"Might as well; that cold pizza wasn't that filling."

"Cool. You comin', Wolvie?" Jubilee added, looking over Rogue's shoulder.

Turning, Rogue saw Wolverine grimace as he usually did at the nickname, "Why not. What're we ordering?"

" 'Ro went up to order from Kam Fong. Should be here by the time everything's put away."

Wolverine grunted. " 'Kay. Gonna go get cleaned up and changed then. Be there in a few."

Remy turned to Jubilee, "Gonna go up too, chere. Need to help Hank with the cameras." He grabbed a camera and a few other bits and pieces from the last pile of equipment and headed up the path.

"Okay Wolvie, bye babe", Jubilee grinned as Wolverine shook his head in resignation at the nickname and started up the path to the house. As soon as the tall, dark Wolverine was out of sight she turned to Rogue and grinned cheerfully. "He likes you, chica." Jubilee sing-songed, ignoring Rogue's blush.

Rogue shook her head. "Jubes, I was his fluffer, and just this once. That's not exactly the road to romance you know."

"Oh whatever, babe. The road is what you make of it. Remy and I didn't start getting serious until we started in all this, you know." Threading her vividly yellow clad arm through Rogue's, Jubilee pulled her toward the brightly-lit mansion.

"You were his fluffer?"

"Hell no, babe." The grin grew even wider. "He was mine."

Laughing, they entered the house.

---

Two Months Later

Sitting on a wooden bench in the mansion's extensive greenhouse, Rogue watched Ororo work on some plantings she had gotten from a local nursery. They often spent time here together after Rogue's mutation control sessions with Charlie. The calming greens soothed her nerves, and she had found 'Ro a good companion, since the older woman never forced her to talk if she wasn't in the mood. Most of the time they just had a leisurely afternoon; 'Ro gardening, Rogue concentrating on fine-tuning her control.

"Rogue, how was your session today? Do you feel more confident?"

"Yes." She thought for a moment, picking at a leaf that had fallen onto the bench. Looking back at 'Ro, who was transplanting a bright yellow Stella D'Oro lily to a large pot, she added, "I never thought I would ever be able to control it, you know? Every time we get to a place where I can, when I can make the control last longer, it's ... it's an odd feeling."

'Ro's smile was serene. "Charles says that you have come far in the time you have been with us." Ororo was the only one who called her husband by his given name. "Speaking of which, Charles was asking if you would be willing to work this weekend. We will be shooting the Druid sequel when he and Jean return." The white haired woman paused, her smile growing a bit wider. "I believe Wolverine could use your help."

Rogue nodded, feeling a touch of warmth spreading over her cheeks. "I can do it. I don't leave until Monday morning. How long did they think they would be in Washington?"

"They should be back tonight, they were planning on leaving as soon as their meeting with that horrid Senator Kelly and his committee was over. Jean needs to return to Adam anyway; he's too young for his mother to be gone for too long." 'Ro frowned slightly. "Charles believes that Senator Kelly's objections to our product lies less in the subject matter and more in our mutations. "

Rogue grimaced at the mention of the Senator who seemed to be fanning the flames of hatred against mutants.

'Ro gave her a faint smile. "Enough of such depressing subjects. Where did you finally decide to go for your vacation?"

"I'm going to drive across Canada. Spend some time in Vancouver. Then drive back, a little farther north. I'll be gone a little over a month."

"You will be sure to take your cell phone, yes?"

Rogue smiled at the beautiful woman giving her a motherly frown. "Yes, Charlie already made sure I would be in a coverage area at all times. Just after he had Scott steal my car to have it checked over."

"Good." 'Ro nodded her approval of both Rogue's plans and her husband's actions. "If you need anything at all, we are only a call away, do not forget that."

Rogue smiled. Getting up she hugged Ororo, the dark skinned beauty hugging her back, exhibiting no concern at the lack of long sleeves or gloves.

---

The second movie in the Druid series would be shot on location, which meant that the RVs were being used as dressing rooms. It was just after four on Sunday afternoon when the cast and crew started down the lane to the shooting locale. The crew was minimal, the other scenes finished and in the can. Only Storm and Wolverine were starring in the final scene of 'Druid Two: The Goddess Comes'.

Rogue sat across from Wolverine in the back of his RV, watching as Sylvia applied his light make up and fitted the blonde wig. Sylvia finished just as Hank pulled the RV into the clearing just feet from where the final scene would be staged.

"Wolverine, I shall go and prepare the set. You and Rogue have about a half an hour I believe."

Rogue nodded while Wolverine said from his position seated behind Sylvia, "Works for me".

Sylvia gave one more tug on the blonde locks and smiled at them both. "That'll do ya, Wolverine. Don't mess it up." And with that she left the RV, heading to Storm's, leaving Rogue and Wolverine to look at each other.

"Sylvia takes hair seriously," Rogue said, in lieu of anything else to say.

He nodded in agreement. "She can be mean with her combs if you screw up her wigs."

Standing up, Rogue started to pull off her sweater. Wolverine stared at her, an odd expression in his eyes. When the sweater was gone, leaving her in a thin-strapped tank top, he had already opened the belt of his black robe.

Leaving her thin leather gloves on, Rogue took the two steps to his side. "I have better control now, but I'll leave the gloves on."

"Yeah, I think someone mentioned your control was much better now." Rogue was surprised. Not that someone had mentioned it - her sessions with Charlie were by no means a secret, but surprise that he would have bothered to pay attention to the comments at all. His eyes narrowed as he took one leather-covered hand in his. "Let's see how it works." And with that he pulled her to him, one of her bare arms automatically going around his neck, the other pressed to his chest as he held her gloved hand in his.

In that position, it was inevitable that he would lean down and she would stand up on her toes, inevitable that warm lips would meet. It was only seconds until his tongue demanded entrance and only a second after that for her wholehearted acquiescence. Her mutation remained dormant as he brought her body closer to his, letting go of her hand, which automatically joined the other around his neck, pulling her closer to the wide expanse of his muscled chest. His arms stole around her, reaching down to cup her curvy bottom, lifting her to hold her closer.

Rogue felt his erection stirring between them, the firming flesh beginning to press insistently against her. Breaking off the kiss, he looked down into her dark brown eyes. Fingers encased in body heat warmed leather moved down his body, and squeezed in between their bodies to wrap around his manhood. She let him get used to the warmth of her hand, then stroked up and down the shaft, pulling him to her, her other arm still around him, pulling him back down for another fiery kiss as the stroking grew more frantic.

Breaking the embrace she leaned against the makeup counter, breathing heavily. Remembering she had a job to do, she grabbed the oil from the counter and refusing to meet his gaze, she returned to his side. Rogue pushed the black robe off his shoulders, letting the dark silk pool at his feet. "Sit down on the stool, please."

He did as she asked, saying nothing. He watched carefully as she removed the leather gloves, his hazel eyes noticing only a momentary hesitation. His entire body was throbbing as she started to massage the oil in, leaving a slick sheen on his skin. Her warm hands floated over his body, the oil making her touch fluid and soft. The muscles under his skin were firm, the metal enhanced skeleton hard beneath her hands. His broad shoulders were first, then down his back, then moving around to his throat and down his chest. Her hands played with his nipples, then down the thickly muscled washboard of his stomach. Back up to the width of his shoulders she calmed him with her touch, petting him.

Telling him to stand, she took care of the backs of his legs, her strong hands applying the oil in long fluid strokes. The muscles in his butt clenched when she touched him there, his hips thrusting forward slightly with every caress.

"Sit back down," she whispered.

Entranced, he did as she commanded, sitting back on the stool. He watched as she put a folded towel on the floor in front of him and knelt. Pushing his legs apart she gave him a flirt's sexy grin then lowered her lips to him. Looking down on her dark head he felt a shudder go through him as her lips touched his bare flesh, the blood flowing to his cock so fast he felt lightheaded, grateful to be sitting down. She braced one hand on his thigh to keep her steady, the other moved to tickle the warm sac sitting on the cool leather. While her hands tormented him, her tongue never stopped its intimate assault.

Letting him fall from her lips, Rogue leaned back to put more oil on her hands, warming it before massaging it into the tensed muscles of his thighs. Running her hands up his legs she smoothed the oil over his pelvis and abdomen. Coming back down, she altered the path, this time grazing his penis, then his balls. His eyes were closed when her mouth returned to his manhood, which stood proudly from his body, the hard and blood engorged length throbbing as her wet mouth pulled him deep.

When Wolverine tried to thrust deeper into her mouth, Rogue pulled back, knowing he was ready. His eyes flew open, missing the warm heat of her mouth, and she looked into them, regretting having to let him go. She placed one hand on each of his powerfully muscled thighs and pushed herself up, standing between his legs. She had started to turn away when he spoke.

"No."

Rogue turned back at the sound of his voice, only half surprised when he stood and pulled her into his arms. Lifting her onto the make-up counter, Wolverine placed his hands on either side of her face, a fierce smile on his own, a second before his lips descended onto hers. Her legs opened at the powerful kiss, and he moved between them, getting as close to her as he could. Her mutation rigidly controlled, Rogue moved to the edge of the counter, her legs curling around his until they locked behind his knees. Her arms curled around his neck, pulling him closer. The connection of their lips, the added sensation when his tongue forced its way into her mouth, the pressure of their bodies against one another had combined into a tangible expression of desire.


They were so focused on each other that they never heard the first few knocks on the door. They broke apart as Hank's voice finally penetrated their passion-induced haze. Breathing heavily, Rogue's legs unlocked their grip on the back of his knees and with a quick kiss on her forehead, Wolverine left the trailer, grabbing his costume, another black cloak, on the way.

Still sitting on the make up counter, Rogue pondered what had just happened. Sliding off, she went into the tiny bathroom, washing the oil off her hands. Splashing her face with cool water she gathered herself. Feeling only slightly more in control than she did a few minutes before, she headed out to the set, grabbing Wolverine's robe on her way out the door.

Leaving the RV, she saw that the altar from the first Druid movie had been set up in a clearing near a copse of trees. The cameras were already filming when Rogue got there, getting some shots of Wolverine as he knelt naked in front of the altar. His heavy black priestly robe was hanging over a convenient gargoyle. The muscles of his back flexed as he spoke his incantation, and Rogue felt her cheeks warming as she remembered how that solid expanse of skin and muscle felt under her hands.

Sylvia broke into Rogue's contemplative reverie, coming up behind her and tapping her on the shoulder. In a voice soft enough not to be picked up by the microphones, Sylvia directed her to move up behind the altar. Rogue was handed a condom and told that she was on protection duty for this shoot. Protection duty meant that she would have to put the condom on Wolverine before the penetration scene. The guidelines were clear at BBHP. If you weren't going home with the person that you were penetrating, a condom was used. Throwing Wolverine's robe over a convenient chair, Rogue followed Sylvia closer to the set.

The camera was focused on the copse of trees as a loud clap of thunder sounded and a bolt of lightning struck just in front of the trees. While the cameras focused on this, Rogue and Storm ran over to the altar. Storm climbing on top while Rogue hid behind it. When the camera shifted back to the altar, a nude Storm was lying on top of it. She was the personification of the goddess, a wig of long black hair covering her white hair. When she turned to face Wolverine and the camera over his shoulder, her eyes were a milky white.

"Come to me, oh priest."

From her position, Rogue could see Wolverine as he climbed onto the altar, magnificently erect - a glorious vision of strength and virility ready to worship his goddess. Mounting Storm, he paused, letting the camera pan over his body. Hank knew just how to wring every bit of appeal from the taut muscles and impressive cock as Wolverine sat astride the beautiful weather goddess. The next bolt of lightning was Rogue's cue; she scrambled to her feet and rolled the condom onto him, not looking him in the eye. Protection duty done, she moved back down, laying on her back, out of sight of the camera.

Rogue looked to the side to see Sylvia give her a thumbs up. When she heard the noises that anyone working at BBHP knew to be an indicator of a climax shot, she looked up, startled to see Wolverine looking down at her as he thrust powerfully into Storm. Climaxing, he broke his gaze and fell on his side, his back to Rogue.

The set was quiet; then the sound of a thunderstorm was heard once again.

The next bolt of lightning struck the trees again and Wolverine rolled to his back. Rogue stood and pulled the condom off him, then once again moved out of sight. The winds picked up and Rogue saw Wolverine rise and start to move away from the altar. Once she was sure the camera was following him, Rogue rolled out from behind the altar and moved back behind the scenes. She threw the used rubber in a trash bag and stood with the rest of the crew to watch the final scene.

Storm rose from the altar, her eyes still milky white, a clear sign she was calling the weather to obey her commands. "You have served your purpose, priest. Now you must pay your respects!"

Wolverine backed away until he was near the trees, and with a loud growl, he extended the claws. "No, Druin, you will not do this to me!"

Storm laughed and raised her arms up high. The last bolt of lightning for the night struck the ground just in front of Wolverine. He fell to the ground as if he had been hit, shaking and convulsing.

"Your goddess thanks you for your service, priest. And your strong seed."

The final shot was Storm walking away toward the copse of trees. The long black hair of the wig flowed behind her naked body like a dark veil. In the foreground, Wolverine's claws were slowly drawn back into his body.

"Cut!" Hank yelled.

Grabbing Wolverine's robe, Rogue ambled over to where he was already getting up, brushing the dirt off. She handed him his robe and he shrugged it on. Walking back to his RV, they saw the crew had finished putting the materials back into the equipment truck, Charlie having levitated the larger and heavier objects. Once in the RV they waited only a few minutes until Sylvia and Hank joined them. Hank slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, but was distracted by a call on his cell phone. Sylvia started to remove the blonde wig and make up from Wolverine, turning the chair toward the mirror. Spying her gloves on the table Rogue pulled them on, out of habit more than anything else.

Rogue sat in silence, her eyes locked with Wolverine's in the makeup mirror, neither saying a word. Once the makeup was removed, Wolverine rose and headed to the tiny bathroom to clean up. Sylvia occupied herself with putting her gear back into the travel cases, only half paying attention to the other occupants of the RV.

Emerging a few minutes later, Wolverine went over to the make up counter. Shedding the robe, he grabbed his clothes and started to dress. When he was finished, he grabbed a beer from the cooler and sat next to Rogue. She watched as he rubbed his hands, massaging the spaces between his knuckles, the spots where the blades came out.

Finishing his call, Hank pulled the RV out of the clearing, heading back toward the mansion. Looking out the back window Rogue was surprised to see 'Ro's RV still in the clearing, the interior lights shining brightly.

Wolverine followed her gaze, and grinning wryly, said, "She didn't get off. She and Charlie'll be along later."

"Oh." Rogue smiled, trying and failing, to control her blush. She looked away from him, her hair hiding her face.

Hank drove the short trip back to the mansion quickly, pulling into the garage in just a few minutes. Once the RV was parked in the garage, Hank and Sylvia carried their gear out, leaving Rogue and Wolverine still seated at the banquette. Wolverine slid out first, then extended a hand to help Rogue up. Letting him pull her up and out of the booth, Rogue continued to move toward him as he pulled her close. Moving until she was held in his arms, she ran her leather clad fingers through his short hair. Looping her arms around his neck she pulled him down to her, his mouth swooping in to find hers. The kiss was slow to begin, their lips playing until his tongue stole out to trace her lips. Encouraged by her moan, it slid inside her mouth, ever so slowly, a low growl coming from him.

Breaking apart for a breath, she took his hands in hers. "When they come out, does it hurt?" Rogue asked.

"Every time," Wolverine responded tightly.

She nodded, then brought his hands to her lips, kissing the palms, then the space over the knuckles where the blades came out. She let his hands go when his head dipped down to hers, capturing her lips with impatient enthusiasm. They remained like that until the sound of the garage door opening and a RV pulling in caused them to move apart. Remembering what her job was, and why she was here tonight, Rogue wondered what he thought of this. Not willing to ask, she moved around him, heading to the door of the RV. Stepping out, she met 'Ro and Charlie as they exited the other RV, both looking relaxed and happy.

Feeling the heat of Wolverine's body behind her, Rogue smiled at the Xaviers, her eyes silently pleading with 'Ro not to ask. Thankfully, neither Charlie nor 'Ro mentioned her flustered appearance. The four of them moved to the house to raid the kitchen, chatting about inconsequential things.

It was a normal night at BBHP, filmed orgasms at five, supper at seven. As was usual in the mansion, the call of food was soon heard and answered by most of the residents. Everyone who was home soon joined them, massive amounts of food prepared and consumed. The chatter ran the gamut from the just finished shoot, Bobby and Johnny's Internet project, to Adam, Jean and Scott's newborn son. It was much later, long after the impromptu party moved from the kitchen to the TV room, that the late evening finally drew to a close, everyone heading in the direction of their rooms. With a parting glance at Wolverine, sitting alone on the sofa, apparently memorizing NHL scores and looking contemplative, Rogue turned and headed up to her room, alone.

---

One Month Later

After almost skidding through another intersection, Rogue decided driving east across northern Canada wasn't as easy as driving west across southern Canada had been, just over a month ago. The seasonable late autumn of her trip west had turned into winter, the snow falling early this year. Rogue kept driving, sure that Sven, her boxy ten year old Volvo, would make it. A thousand plus miles were still ahead of her, but Rogue was taking her time, the journey as important as the destination.

Her trip west had been well planned out, good hotels and Bed and Breakfasts with reservations, confirmation numbers, and arrival dates. The trip home was more spur of the moment, an adventure. The middle part of her vacation, two weeks, had been spent in a B & B just outside of Vancouver, relaxing and doing the tourist thing. She had been staying just a few hundred miles south of her old home in Alaska, but the weather had been far more temperate. Rogue hadn't even encountered snow until she had crossed over the Rockies, but now winter was all around her.

Thus far her plan to just travel for the sake of traveling had worked out well, finding rooms in a four star hotel in Banff, then a mediocre Holiday Inn in Whitecourt. The snow had become deeper, but Rogue had planned for the weather. 'Ro and Jubilee had made sure she was properly outfitted for her journey; Charlie and Scott had made sure Sven was up to the trip. Wearing a long green wool coat, leather gloves worn for warmth instead of protection, and Sven's heater working to its fullest, she was comfortable.

It was about ten at night when, ready for a break, she pulled into the parking lot of the local attraction recommended to her by the young man at the gas station ten miles back. The snow-covered lot was full, mostly pickup trucks and semis. The bar itself was a huge, corrugated barn-like building looming in the dark. Looking at the uninspiring facade of the bar, Rogue wondered for the second time if this wasn't a bad idea, but the guy at the gas station had said that this was the place to go for a fun night in this burg.

Rogue decided that wasn't saying a hell of a lot for Laughlin City, Alberta.

Parking Sven in the poorly lit lot, Rogue made her way past the assembled vehicles, walking quickly to avoid the retching sounds coming from the other side of a green Peterbilt cab. Reminding herself of her quest for interesting sights, she put aside the thought she should have kept driving the last fifty miles to Maysburg and the motel where she had planned to spend the night; instead of stopping here for some entertainment.

Reaching the door, Rogue moved quickly out of the way as some obviously inebriated patrons stumbled out. Slipping in the closing door, she found the noise inside deafening. The rowdy crowd screaming, yelling and cursing. Her other senses were assaulted as she moved farther inside. The lighting was murky at best, the heat mainly provided by fires burning in large barrels. She was almost overpowered by the stench of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and unwashed bodies barely covered by cheap perfumes and colognes. Walking farther into the dark and smoky interior she saw a large fenced in ... well, cage described it pretty good, she decided, in the middle of the room. It looked like two men were fighting inside, a tall bald man kicking another man Rogue couldn't see through the crowd milling around the cage, yelling insults and encouragement.

Steeling herself, Rogue made her way through the mass of people. Finally pushing her way to the bar, she ordered a beer from the very tall, very unfriendly-looking bartender. Taking a sip from the dark bottle, she turned back to watch the cage fight, which held the unruly crowd's rapt attention. The bald man was about to punch the man on the ground when the unfriendly bartender interrupted her observations, pushing her change at her. Turning back to accept her change, Rogue didn't notice when the bald man was routed, his below the belt kicks repaid with interest. Her change safely back in her wallet, Rogue returned her attention to the cage, watching as two men carried out the now unconscious bald man.

A pudgy ringmaster of sorts entered the ring and proclaimed into a microphone, "The winner, and still King of the Cage, The Wolverine!"

Shocked, her eyes searched the cage, finally finding the other occupant. His back was to her, but she knew that back. In a split second her mind recalled every thickly muscled ridge and groove. She remembered if she pressed hard enough on that special spot on his lower back she could make his growl turn into a purr. And when he purred he got harder, and his hips started thrusting, looking for relief.

Thrown off center by the images that flooded her mind, Rogue panicked slightly, not wanting to see him until she was over her surprise at finding him up here in the middle of nowhere good. Looking for an escape, she saw her salvation in the dark hallway on the other side of the bar; her mind filling in the blanks in the broken neon sign that read 'Re tro ms'. Leaving her beer on the bar, she walked quickly toward her temporary reprieve. While the ladies' room was exactly as she had thought it might be, smelly and dirty, the few minutes spent in it allowed her to calm herself. At least the conditions of the barely usable and rank-smelling restroom gave her something to think about; something other than that last unexpected kiss she had shared with Wolverine a month ago.

When she felt she was as collected as she could get, Rogue left the ladies room, noticing that the bar had emptied swiftly. Apparently most of the clientele didn't think there was much point in sticking around once the bloodshed was over. The remaining people appeared to be either employees who were cleaning up, collecting beer bottles from every surface; or patrons too drunk to move. Well, almost too drunk to move, she corrected herself silently, watching a rotund man roll off the bench of the booth he had been snoring on. Rogue returned to the bar and ordered a cup of coffee, her barely touched beer long since stolen and swilled or cleared away.

"I'll have a beer."

Rogue went rigid as his voice floated over her shoulder. In the next second his body was flush against her back, causing a shiver to run through her. The bartender didn't even blink at this bit of forward behavior, the works of Miss Emily Post evidently not making it this far north. Without expression the surly man opened a bottle and placed it on the bar in front of her.

Wolverine stepped even closer to her as he reached around her to grab the bottle. Leaving one hand on Rogue's hip, he took a long pull. Placing the bottle back on the bar, his newly freed hand curled around her other hip. He was close enough for her to feel the heat pouring off him, smell the cheap, antiseptic-smelling restroom soap he must have used to clean up with after the fight. Finally turning her head to look at him, Rogue was astonished at the change in his appearance.

Instead of being clean-shaven, he had a muttonchops beard. His hair was longer than she remembered it; it seemed to point up on the sides like ears on an animal. Remembering her brief glance at his chest when he was still in the cage, she idly realized how often he must have to shave. Barely managing to restrain herself from reaching up to touch the hair on his face, she turned back to her cup, taking a sip of the thick, acidic sludge this dump called coffee.

"What're you doing here, Rogue?" His voice was soft, deceptively calm, his breath rustling her hair.

"Driving back home. The guy at the gas station said this was the hot spot for entertainment in these parts. Which if that's true," there was an edge of humor in her voice, "is saying something."

Relaxing slightly, he snorted softly. "Yeah, nothing good." Moving away, he took a seat at the bar, kitty corner from her. Raising an eyebrow, he searched his jacket pockets, pulling out a cigar. Lighting it, his features were quickly hidden in a cloud of foul smelling yellow smoke.

The shifty ringmaster sat at the other end of the bar, counting and sorting money into piles of Canadian and American bills. A hard looking bleach blonde was helping him, a cigarette dangling from her lips, bouncing as she counted aloud. Taking a sheaf of bills from the bar, the ringmaster gave them to the bartender, who all but threw them down on the bar in front of Wolverine. Putting his beer down again, Wolverine leaned back on the stool to put the bills in the pocket of the denim jacket he wore underneath a leather jacket. Rogue tried to ignore it all, focusing on the television behind the bar, which for some baffling reason was wrapped some kind of animal pelt. A minute later her attention shifted as she saw the dim lights reflecting off a bald head just behind and to the right of Wolverine.

Finishing off his beer, Wolverine looked up to see Rogue's eyes focusing on something behind him, narrowing with concern. But he already knew who was behind him. Stu, the now well tenderized, bald headed ball breaker would be tonight's choice for dumbass of the evening. He had smelled like a dumbass in the ring and the added stench of blood and alcohol hadn't changed Wolverine's first impression of him.

"You owe me some money."

At Wolverine's lack of interest in his demand, Stu pressed the point. "No man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it."

Putting his cigar down in the ashtray Wolverine responded turning only in Stu's direction, not bothering to face him directly. "You lost your money. You don't stop, you'll lose something else."

Stu was either too stupid or too punch drunk to realize he hadn't scared Wolverine. Ignoring his friend, who tried to pull him away, telling him this wasn't worth it, he leaned down to whisper in Wolverine's ear. "I know what you are."

Looking up into Rogue's eyes, Wolverine could tell she was worried. He was about to smile a reassurance when she screamed.

"Look out!"

Wolverine's reaction was automatic. He swung around, disarming Stu, pushing him with the same motion into a post, the adamantium claws extending to prick the skin of Stu's thick neck. With his focus on Stu, who was quickly losing control of his bodily functions, it took a second for Wolverine to realize that Rogue was still frightened. It took him another second past that to figure out of what. The shotgun cocking as it was pressed to his ear made her expression of terror much more understandable.

"Get out of my bar, freak," the bartender ground out, the barrel of the gun shaking but not leaving the vicinity of Wolverine's head.

Wolverine grumbled to himself. The delicious irony that was his life had reared its ugly head again. This prick pointing a shotgun at his head had probably made more money in the two nights that he had been fighting here than the bastard probably had in the whole month before. But apparently his presence was no longer needed. It never failed. He decided to leave them all with something to remember him by.

Leaving the one set of claws at Stu's neck, it took only a flex of back and arm to bring the other set to slice through the barrel of the shotgun. The smell of urine grew stronger, offering him a slight hint of retribution, watching the bartender piss himself. Looking back at Rogue, Wolverine acknowledged the worry still in her eyes as he growled at Stu and the bartender. Collecting himself, he retracted the claws, then shrugged his shoulders to adjust his jackets. Stepping back up to the bar to retrieve his cigar, still smoldering in the cheap aluminum ashtray, he was careful to avoid the two yellow puddles, the Rivers Stu and Bartender, flowing together to create the Lake of Terrified Incontinence on the sawdust covered floor. Grabbing the cigar, he headed toward the door, Rogue grabbing her purse and following his signal to move out in front of him. The apprehensive stares of the barflies followed them as they walked out the door.

Out in the parking lot only a few cars remained. Wolverine's old Ford truck with the camper on the bed was parked just six or seven spaces down from Sven. They had only made it half way to Rogue's car when Wolverine stopped. His body tensed and his eyes searched the parking lot, a familiar stench causing all his senses to go to full alert. His nose twitched as he recognized the familiar scent, and the claws shot out. Rogue turned to stare at him, starting at the sound of a voice coming from just ahead of them.

"Heya, runt." A large man with long, shaggy blonde hair, wearing an interesting assortment of animal hides slunk out of the shadow of a nearby pickup truck. Wolverine's eyes were unreadable as he carefully watched the blonde giant come to a halt only a few steps away.

"Vic."

Rogue stared at Wolverine, the tangible hatred in his voice surprising her. Stepping in front of her, Wolverine made sure that the newcomer's view of her was blocked.

"You really should think about Erik's offer, runt. You made a good flick with us."

His eyes icy, Wolverine growled. "That why you're here? Tryin' to get me to come back to your nice little brotherhood? It ain't gonna happen, bub."

The mysterious Vic backed up a step, returning Wolverine's growl. "Whatever, runt. Be seenin' ya... and yer tasty little friend." With that he lumbered, with a peculiar grace, back into the shadows.

"Wolverine, who was that?" Rogue asked as Wolverine pulled the claws back in and taking her arm, all but dragged her to her car.

"Vic the Prick. You don't want to know. We need to get out of here. I want you to follow me out, we'll get a good ways away from here before we stop again."

"The Brotherhood? You mean Ironhard Brothers Studios? Don't they make those snuff flicks?" She didn't even bother to respond to the fact that he just assumed she was going to follow him. After seeing that guy, following Wolverine didn't seem like such a bad idea. Besides, who knew if the cast of Deliverance back in the bar might find their balls and come after them; and Wolverine was rushing, and Wolverine never rushed. There was definitely a reason to avoid this Vic guy.

Besides, it had felt nice to have him rubbing up against her back there in the bar.

Damn nice.

"Yeah." Wolverine damned the fact that she was so quick, but this was no time to make long explanations. He took her keys, opened her door, pushed her into the driver's seat, and all but belted her in. "Come on, Rogue. We're leaving."

She watched in bemusement as he walked back to his truck, obviously watching everything around him, not letting his guard down at all. He got into his truck and gunned the engine. Driving to the exit he waited for her to follow. Starting her car, she followed him back out on to the two lane highway, back out into the Canadian hinterlands. As she drove behind his old truck she pondered Wolverine and snuff flicks - and if she was insane to follow him out of what could only loosely be called civilization.

---

Looking at the clock in the dash of her car, Rogue noted they had been on the road for almost two hours and she was getting tired. Tired of driving, tired of following Wolverine's rickety old truck down the snow covered roads of wherever the hell they were. She had been driving for seven hours before she stopped in Laughlin City, and the road was beginning to look disconcertingly endless in front of her. Seeing lights ahead, Rogue knew they were coming up to another town, and upon seeing the sign that read 'Maysburg', she made her decision.

Instead of following his truck straight through the intersection with the single blinking yellow light, Rogue turned right, onto the frontage road. Driving about half a block, she pulled into the parking lot of the Kleen 'n' Komfy Motel. She had just taken the keys out when she heard Wolverine's truck lay down rubber on the road, the brakes screeching. Tiredly, she watched as the camper on the bed lurched forward, then settled back into place, still shaking; he really needed to tighten the clamps. He wouldn't be happy about stopping. After all, in the years she had barely known him, a happy Wolverine was something she had rarely seen. Amused and quietly thoughtful - yes. Happy - no. But enough was enough - she needed a bed for the night.

The gears screeched as he made a U-turn in the middle of the deserted highway and swung around, pulling onto the frontage road, then into the lot and the spot next to Sven. He was out of the driver's seat scant seconds after putting it in park, the camper continuing to shake with the force he used when he hit the brakes.

Getting out of her car she winced the sound of his door slamming. Oh yeah, he was pissed off.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Stopping. Ceasing the forward motion of my motor vehicle. Entering this motel, getting a room, and getting some sleep. What semi-normal people do after being on the road for hours."

"Fuck. We should keep going."

"You can certainly keep going, Wolvie. I'm getting a room and getting some sleep."

"We can go a little longer, hole up in the camper," he ground out, pointing to it.

"Wolverine, I'm sure it's lovely, but there is not a chance in hell. You can stay here, keep on going, or you can sleep in there. I am getting a room and a shower."

"Fuck."

"Yes, you've said that already."

He glowered at her, pulling a wad of bills off the sheaf the weasel at the bar had given him. "Get a double."

Rogue took the cash, not even bothering to protest. She just was not in the mood to stand in the snow in a dark parking lot for another hour while he lectured her on motel checking-in etiquette. "All right," she said, handing him her keys. "Bring in the blue and red cases, would you?" And with that she walked toward the lobby, feeling she had at least won part of the battle.

It took only ten minutes to check in. The Kleen 'n' Komfy chain wasn't exactly the Ritz, and apparently Maysburg wasn't a hot destination midweek. Leaving the lobby, she found Wolverine smoking a cigar at one of the wrought-iron tables on the patio outside by the drained pool. He had swept the snow off the table and chairs, her two bags and another unfamiliar duffel were sitting on the chair next to the one he was occupying. He finished his contemplation of the gaudy pink building with the bright blue doors and turned to face her, an eyebrow lifting expectantly.

"Room 211. Come on, sunshine." Rogue smiled faintly, looking pointedly at the smelly cigar. "It's non-smoking."

He swore under his breath but stubbed out it out on the table, putting the stub back in his jacket pocket. She reached for the blue case, but with a frown he grabbed all three bags and motioned her with his head to proceed him. Leading the way to room 211, Rogue wondered if there was any possibility of him getting any grumpier. Hearing him behind her swearing under his breath, she decided that was unlikely.

Entering the room, she turned on the lights, throwing her purse onto the double bed closest to the door. Following close behind her, Wolverine looked around, and throwing his duffel on the first bed, picked up her purse and threw it onto the second bed, the one closer to the bathroom, away from the door and window.

"Yours."

It was way too late, and she was way too tired to argue with him. Throwing her gloves and coat on top of her purse, she headed to the bathroom. "Okay, Tarzan. Just put the cases down on the table, would you? I'll just be a minute."

Closing the door behind her, Rogue leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. She had had a few interesting thoughts about Wolverine, but none of them had been remotely like this. After using the toilet, she gave herself a good lecture about how to deal with this situation as she washed her hands. Leaving the bathroom, she realized couldn't remember one thing she had just finished lecturing herself about.

Wolverine was sprawled on the bed closest to the door, or more precisely, the bed between her bed and the door, first in the line of anyone getting in. He had taken off his boots and jackets, but was still wearing the rest of his clothes. The TV was on; ESPN was airing a hockey game that seemed to have him transfixed. He was drinking from a bottle of beer she assumed had come from a stash in his camper.

"Wolverine? Do you need to use the bathroom? I want to take a shower."

The responding grunt seemed negative, so Rogue pulled off her boots, stowing them under the coat rack alongside the desk, hanging her long coat up on one of those motel hangers that don't actually come off the rack. She took her toiletries bag and a nightgown out of the blue case and went to wash away the dust from the road and the stale smell of cigarettes from her hair.

Wolverine watched the door close, a frown spreading over his features. They really shouldn't have stopped, but he knew that locking her in the camper until they were back in New York wouldn't work very well. Not that he would object to being locked in the camper with her. He didn't think she would object either, but with Pricky skulking around out there, it wasn't the best idea in the world. Tuning the game out, he thought about his new roommate. She might fluff mutie porn stars, but that in no way prepared her for dealing with Pricky.

Vic the Prick was legend in the darker side of everything. He liked snuff flicks, liked everything about them. Wolverine frowned as he remembered Pricky coming all over some poor girl, the monster's hands stained with her blood. He was sure that one had never gone home again. The frown grew as he thought about the one movie he had made with Vic. Years ago, before he had a choice, before he had gone to work at Charlie's, where the porn was silly, kinda stupid, but never cruel or bloody.

Wolverine knew that Rogue was able to take care of herself from the stories he had heard about her at the mansion, how she had left home young and lived on her own in Alaska of all places. And just that she had chosen to go into the films impressed him; she had to have a strong sense of self to do that. But surviving with normal people and normal mutants was a hell of a lot different from dealing with a monster like Vic. He tried to return his attention to the game, but was distracted again by another thought.

She was a damn fine fluffer. After that last time... he wished he had fired Christy earlier. With Christy it had been work. With Rogue it had felt like something... more.

Tilting his head, he heard the shower turn off, then a hair dryer running. When the whine of the dryer stopped he could hear Rogue singing softly as she finished up in the bathroom. He found himself ridiculously soothed by the sound of her voice massacring the lyrics to 'The Mountie Song'. He idly wondered if she had been an Arrogant Worms fan before she started to drive across Canada.

He turned his attention back to the game just before she walked out, the artificial scents of her shampoo and soaps accentuating her natural scent, all of which drifted into the room on the steam from the shower. Her long brown hair curled naturally as it fell in waves around her face. She was wearing a long pink nightgown that hugged her body in all the right places. He couldn't help but remember the feel of her body held tight to his, her lips opening under his, the excitement that had coursed through his blood as their tongues mated.

Fuck. Don't think like that, now is not the time, he rebuked himself.

Putting her dirty clothes into a plastic bag, Rogue moved her cases to the luggage rack at the end of the bed. Smiling faintly she pulled back the motel standard thin sheets and comforter and crawled into her bed.

"Goodnight, Wolverine," she said, offering him a cautious smile.

"Logan." He didn't even know why he said it.

"What?"

"My name is Logan."

"Oh. Goodnight, Logan."

"Goodnight, Rogue."

"Marie."

"Goodnight, Marie."

Their eyes exchanged tentative smiles, Logan and Marie meeting for the first time. She pulled the bedding around her and snuggled into the pillow. Fatigue took over and she fell asleep almost immediately.

He listened as her breathing evened, her body relaxing in sleep. Mentally slapping himself again he tried to focus his attention back on the TV and the hockey game. Finally giving into the exhaustion he rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a little bag out of his duffel. A few minutes later, nightly ablutions finished, Logan stalked over to the door, making sure it was locked. Drawing the curtains back slightly he looked out, and seeing nothing obvious to worry about, headed to bed. Stopping only to strip, throwing his clothes over the chair at the little table, setting his dog tags on top in a little heap, he climbed, nude, between the thin sheets. Turning the voice down low on the TV, he saw only a few more seconds of the hockey game before he too was fast asleep.

Marie woke up a few hours later, still tired. She looked around the strange room in confusion, trying to orient herself. Finally remembering where she was, she realized the voices she heard were coming from the TV, babbling softly across from her bed. A second later she heard the noise that had woken her. Wolverine - no - Logan, was having a nightmare.

He was fighting the sheets around him, muttering angrily. She could see he had stripped down before getting under the covers; the sheet had worked down to his waist, leaving his bare chest exposed.

"Logan?" He didn't answer, so she got up and moved over to him, flicking on the bedside lamp on the table between their two beds. "Logan?" Still no response. Making sure her control was in place, she bent over him, touching him quickly on the shoulder.


"Logan. Come on, sugar, wake up..."

With a fluid surge and an anguished cry, Logan bolted upright, his fist hitting her center in the breastbone. In the same instant she heard that that snikt sound, as still asleep and locked in his nightmare, he extended the claws.

Logan woke with the claws, the momentary burst of excruciating pain waking him rudely from his nightmare. Expecting to see Vic the Prick standing over him, he instead saw Rogue - Marie. His claws were buried in her chest. Her brown eyes stared at him with a painfully shocked expression. He flexed and the claws withdrew, but he knew the damage was already done.

Oh God.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod...

"Marie? Marie!"

She fell heavily onto his bed and he pulled her into his lap. Her eyes never strayed from his as she reached down, and with a bare hand, touched his face. Her fingers felt light and soft against his face, then her palm molded itself to his cheek and he felt it... a feeling like being pulled under the tide, like having the air slowly replaced by warm water in his lungs.

Just before he passed out he saw the holes his claws had torn in her nightgown, saw the gashes beneath heal. In that second, he knew what she had done. What she had taken from him. She collapsed on him, but she was still breathing, and he could hear her heart beating. He knew by instinct that the pull had stopped, that her control was back in place.

He was tired, he realized. His energy was gone, and it was more than just being tired, it was like having all his muscles disconnected from his body. As his mind followed his body into a deep healing sleep, as he spiraled down toward oblivion, all he could feel was relief.

---

It was almost two hours later when Logan finally came around, waking in a rush, immediately feeling the dead weight of Marie on his chest. But she was alive, her breath was soft and warm on his chest, he could hear the sleepy murmurs when she rubbed her cheek again his skin, her hair the only thing separating them.

"Marie?"

She woke the same way he had, bolting upright in a sudden rush of consciousness, remembering what had happened. What he had done. What she had done. "Logan? Are you all right? I'm so sorry... It was the only thing I could think of to do, it was just instinct..."

"Marie."

"I should have been more careful I should have never tried I'm so sorry I haven't done that in..."

"Marie. Marie!"

She finally looked at him as he raised his voice, her eyes finally meeting his, a shadowed look of guilt reflected in their brown depths.

"I'm fine, you did right." He shrugged. "Mutation's kinda pointless if it can't save you after I fuck up."

"I shouldn't have..."

"Saved yourself? Don't be stupid." His words were harsher than he meant, and she tensed. He could see the wheels turning, she was going to make this a bad thing and her fault no matter what.

"Logan, I could have killed you."

He snorted. "Marie, I'm not that easy to kill. We're alive. Christ, I stabbed you. You did right." She shook her head, head ducked low to avoid his eyes. He took her chin between his fingers and lifted it so she had to look him in the eye. "We're both still breathing. Period. Final. End of the damned story." Logan raised an eyebrow as she opened her mouth. "Baby, you tell me I should have let you die on me, I'll spank you."

Now that was a fuckin' righteous thought.

Her eyes were saucers in her pale face. Her pupils dilated and he knew she was remembering that she was in his bed, on top of him. He felt a stirring, the feeling of his blood getting sluggish in his veins.

Desire.

She had almost killed him and it didn't matter. He had almost certainly all but killed her with his claws, so fuck it - it was a fair exchange.

A life for a death.

And God, he had lives to spare.

His resolve not to start anything while they were on the road faded. She was looking down at him with wanting. When her tongue licked her lips he almost groaned in pain. His hands were clutching her hips, and instinctively, yes, it was instinctive at this point, he pulled her down, her body, aligned by whatever gods existed, so perfectly with his. Where he was hard, she was soft, and he could hear her breath catch and her heart pound, and he smelled that delicate sweet musk of the beginnings of desire.

"Marie?"

She didn't answer, just leaned back and with a wiggle of her hips and a slight lift of her knees pulled the ruined nightgown over her head. Nude, she sat astride him, the thin sheet down around his waist the only thing separating them.

Serious brown eyes met hazel. "I can control it."

"Never had a doubt, darlin'."

He took a moment to look at her. She was shorter than he was, almost by a foot, but sitting astride him, unselfconscious in her nudity and definitely aroused, her body was perfectly proportioned. Her curves were all woman, lush and soft. Her breasts were full and proud, the aroused nipples calling to him. The rest of her was perfection, and he knew her softness would be the perfect mate to his hardness. Large hands moved up her thighs to her hips, lingering on the silky skin of her belly, then up to her breasts, cupping them, his strong fingers playing and touching.

Her big doe eyes glinted with humor as her mouth twisted into a grin. He knew they were both remembering the same thing, the last time she had sat astride his body. When it was business. But this was different. This was pleasure.

Her hands moved to cover his, stroking his large, strong hands as they moved on her body, paying special attention to her breasts. Marie's head fell back as his hands, still covered by hers, began to stroke a line from the valley between her breasts to the dark soft curls resting on the sheet. His fingers tangled with hers, he reached inside those curls, stroking gently, grinning hungrily at her as their fingers moved inside her hidden warmth.

His other hand returned to stroke her face, running through her hair, her hand running up and down his arm, needing to touch him constantly. He continued to stroke inside her and once his fingers were wet, he slid their fingers up inside the folds until he found the swollen bundle of nerves. Letting his fingers stroke the sensitive bud, he alternated pressure until he could see sweat bead on her upper lip, felt her body shake as she strove to control the sensations.

Feeling the pressure she bought to bear as she undulated her hips down onto his sheet covered cock, Logan groaned. The pressure was divine, and had the bonus of moving their hands deeper inside her, causing her to echo his moans. Taking her free hand in his, he brought it to a breast. She followed his unspoken instructions, her hand massaging the nipple, as his hand moved to do the same to her other breast. Watching her body sway atop his, feeling her thighs squeezing him he knew she was close.

Taking her other hand, the one entwined with his inside her, he directed her fingers to her clit. He encouraged her fingers to stroke up and down the erect bundle of nerves, then to tease the head with a swirling motion. Soon she was swaying to her own rhythm and he grinned wolfishly, watching their hands combined on breasts and deep inside her to excite her. Moving his fingers from hers on her clit he moved deeper, moved inside her. One finger entered her, then another. Matching her rhythm, Logan started a thrusting motion with his fingers, then stopped to stroke the sensitive top of the channel, just inside. He knew she was there when he heard her keening cry as she found satisfaction. The orgasm swept through her, inner muscles pulling his fingers deeper, thighs squeezing him tighter.

He felt a powerful surge of male satisfaction as he watched her body tense as his fingers were massaged deep inside her. Her face was flushed and damp and her breasts shook with the shudders that stormed through her body. He manfully ignored his own need, his screaming urge to flip her over and thrust deep inside. Instead he waited as she fell on him, her warm body pliant with satiation, his fingers falling free of her.

When she moved again it was a small motion, lifting her head up to smile at him, bringing her lips to his, and he couldn't help but begin to rock his hips against hers. She rubbed her smooth cheek against his hairy one, giggling softly at the sensation of the soft hairs scratching her face. Rolling off him, she lay on her side, her head resting on her hand, her other hand moving over his chest. He inhaled deeply as the fingers that had been inside her spread her scent over his skin. She pulled the sheet off, revealing his straining length. Her hand stroked him, surrounding him and moving up and down the shaft. Inching over she started to kiss his chest, lips seeking the flat male nipples. Looking down at him she raised an eyebrow, then climbed over him, her leg dragging against his arousal, causing Logan to grit his teeth as she left him, lying unfulfilled on the bed, his body aching for her.

"Fuck," Logan gasped.

"Soon, sugar, soon."

Opening her case she grabbed a string of condoms and crossed back to the bed, looking down at him. She smiled, her eyes running over his aroused body. She pulled a condom off the string and threw the rest onto the bedside table. Climbing back onto the bed, she sat near his feet and ran her hands up his legs, separating them. Her nails scored thin red lines on the insides of his thighs, his head tossing on the pillow as her tongue licked up the already disappearing scratches. Her long hair swept along the length of his erection, causing him to call out her name. Leaving one hand on his belly, another on the bed next to his hip, Marie lowered her head and her lips opened wide.

At the first touch of her warm lips, his hips pistoned up. The first touch of her tongue forced a pained groan as she moved with him, opening her mouth wider, letting him thrust in, suppressing the gag reflex as best she could. Bringing her hands to his hips she pushed them down, her lips suckling on him as he fell out of her warm mouth.

"Oh, baby, that felt so good," he moaned.

Going down on him again, her lips surrounded him, closing just under the head. Changing position again her tongue stroked the head, then with a hand massaging his balls, she licked her way down the shaft, the pulse beating strongly. When he began to thrust up again she grabbed the condom and rolled it on, smiling at the sigh of relief that fell from his lips.

Logan couldn't remember feeling such relief at being encased in latex before. That relief was nothing compared to the next moment as Marie straddled him and in one quick motion took his hard and aching length completely into her moist heat. Raising herself she let all but the head fall free. With a graceful downward thrust she took him deep, those strong inner muscles clasping and pulling. Again and again, with his large hands supporting her, she repeated the movement, his hips following her, trying to stay as deeply within her as possible. He captured her breasts as she rolled her hips, their bodies locked together.

"Marie. Come on, Marie. Now, baby, now."

Feeling his balls pull tight, Logan knew it wasn't going to be much longer. Knowing he needed her with him, he pulled her tighter to him and felt relief when her head rolled back and she cried out.

"Logan!"

Feeling that internal pressure again, he knew she had found her breaking point. He made one last thrust, his body going as taut as hers had a breath before, following her into the abyss.

---

Waking with Marie on top of him, her weight keeping him locked in place was a very good thing Logan decided. He ran his hands over her smooth back, delighted at the way, even in sleep, she cuddled closer to him when he touched her. Enjoying the mellow feelings of the afterglow, his reverie was pleasurably interrupted when he felt her lips on his chest.

Lifting her head she smiled down at him, her eyes dreamy. "Hi." Her lips returned to his damp skin.

"Hey."

Marie blushed prettily, but said nothing, returning to her kissing and licking. He closed his eyes and arched his back as she started to nibble on a flat nipple. Logan felt her stretch as she moved up until her lips were descending on his, the warm taste of Marie sending his blood pounding again. Rolling her onto her back, he smiled down at her, her long dark hair swirling on the mattress. With one last kiss he moved away from her, levering himself up off the bed, heading to the bathroom for a bit of post-coital maintenance.

When Logan emerged from the bathroom, Marie was still sitting on the bed, back against the headboard; the wrinkled sheet pulled up to her breasts.

"How do you feel?"

"Good. My control is still good."

"Wasn't what I asked you, darlin'." When she looked up, his eyes were amused, but concerned.

Marie reached up to touch his face as he sat next to her on the bed, pulling him to her until their lips met and her tongue swept into his mouth to play with his. His furry cheeks delighted her even as they scratched her sensitive skin. The sheet dropped as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around his neck and he moved to encircle her in his arms. When they finally surfaced for breath, she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Tired?" He hoped she would say no.

"No. Restless... I feel like I have a lot of energy."

Spying her ruined nightgown lying on the floor, he had a thought, and hoped she would be willing. "Ever see 'Fit to be Tied'?"

She turned her head to stare at him, a sensually devious look in her eyes, her lips turning up in a grin. He was so absorbed in her that he knew she was getting excited again. He looked at her seriously for a second. "You have any worries, or you get nervous, you just say..." he wracked his brain thinking of a safe word, but looking at her, her eyes huge with delight, her body exuding desire, sex, lust, he could barely think past three words: In. Marie. Now.

Shaking off his haze of desire he tried again. "You just say..."

"Poodles."

"Poodles?" he blinked, pondering that one.

"Yeah, can't think of any reason to say Poodles, can you?"

He thought about that for a minute. With a shrug he said, "Well Marie, amazingly enough, I never thought of poodles while we were making love just then. Poodles it is."

Gently pushing her onto her back, he got off the bed and picked the nightgown up from the floor. It took only a few powerful rips to make four usable strips. Throwing the rest of the destroyed nightgown on the other bed, he turned back to Marie, who was watching him closely, waiting for him. Kissing her palm, he took her right wrist and tied the nightgown strip around it, then to the rung of the headboard. Doing the same with the left, he moved down her body, stopping to give her a long and heady kiss before moving down, kissing every bit of skin he could before reaching her ankles. Kissing the right ankle, he tied the pink fabric around it, then tied the other end to the leg of the bed, causing her legs to part even wider. Smiling down at her with a fierce tenderness, he did the same on the other side, leaving her spread eagle on the bed, the spicy scent of her desire all around him. He could see her shivering in anticipation and felt his cock quiver.

Settling in at the bottom of the bed, he stepped up the game by running his hands up her legs, leaning in to kiss the soft skin of her inner thighs, her soft skin reacting to his touch, the burn from his beard already forming on her skin. Moving from one side to the other he stopped and blew a warm breeze into the brown curls, then returned to her legs, watching the muscles twitch as he kissed and licked his way to her knees and up again.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Marie. So soft. So ready."

She moaned in response, his name turning into an unrecognizable syllable.

Shifting his position, he knelt in the space between her legs and leaned up and kissed her, his hands at her sides, feeling her pull against the 'ropes' as he lifted his head and broke the kiss. Moving down he returned again to her, hearing her moan as he laved and licked. The taste of her was intoxicating he thought, which led to another idea.

Leaving her tied to the bed, he paid no heed to her whimper as he abandoned teasing her warm skin. He went over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of beer, still cold from the cooler in the camper. Using the opener on his keychain he opened the bottle, watching her eyes open wide.

"Trust me, darlin'?"

She didn't even hesitate, just looked him straight in the eye. "I trust you, sugar."

With a satisfied smirk he returned to the bed, sitting to the side of her hip. Tilting the bottle slightly he poured a trickle of the cold, dark beer onto the soft skin of her belly. His tongue followed, lapping the beer up, his tongue dipping into her navel to get every last drop. Looking up at her flushed face as she struggled against the bonds he waited, giving her time to say the safe word, but she didn't, so he continued. Taking another mouthful of the cold beer, he took a nipple into his mouth, letting the cold liquid encompass it, then swallowing, he used his tongue to warm the nipple back up, feeling it grow, the skin getting tighter. When he heard her calling his name as he repeated the same procedure on the other breast, licking down the soft peaks to the valley between them where a small river of beer had collected. Finished with his cleaning up, he settled again between her legs.

Marie was breathing heavily, her eyes still closed when he took a sip of the beer, and moving quickly so it wouldn't have time to warm, brought his mouth to her warm and fragrant folds. Using his fingers to open her so he could have better access, he fastened his lips around the straining bud, gently sucking it while letting the cold beer flow around it.

Her response was immediate, "Logan!" she yelped as she pulled against the pink ropes and thrust upward, her already aroused body finding another orgasm in seconds as the sensations of cold beer, warm tongue, and soft lips combined in a torrent of pleasurable provocation. She cried out, calling his name, her body shaking as the tremors moving through her at lightening speed. She called his name over and over again as he kissed her belly, letting his tongue draw patterns in the damp skin. Feeling her body go limp, he let her settle, watching her chest heave as she tried to breathe, her muscles shaking with strain.

"Logan," she breathed.

Leaning down to kiss her neck he whispered assurances and compliments while his hands continued to stroke her. "You did perfect, baby. You're amazing, so lovely and hot," he said. He looked down at her and smiled, she looked so beautiful, so passionate beneath him, so right.

When Marie could think coherently again she heard him moving to the end of the bed. Seconds later she felt him doing something with the strips that held her legs open. Then the tension went slack and her legs collapsed together. Logan took one leg and flexed it, then the other and she felt the muscles begin to warm and flex again. Freeing her wrists he massaged her arms, getting the blood to flow back into the tight muscles, kissing her here and there. A deep kiss on her lips, the taste of beer and Marie leaving them both panting, bodies aching for more.

"Flip over?" Logan asked, one eyebrow cocked, a wry grin curling his lips.

It was a request, not a demand, a promise, not a threat.

So she did.

When she was on her belly he told her to lift up, and when she was raised on her arms, he put a pillow lengthwise under her head and breasts. He took another pillow and used it to raise her hips. He brushed her hair to one side and kissed the nape of her neck as he tied her wrists, making sure the bonds weren't too tight on her delicate skin. Licking and kissing his way down her back, he stopped to nip at her soft cheeks, then lower to tie the ropes, leaving her beautifully open to his gaze. He left her for a second to grab the beer bottle from where he had put it the floor. Pouring a trickle onto her lower back, he let the dark brew, now lukewarm, pool in the small of her back. Diving in, he lapped it up, tasting the bitter of the beer and the salt of her skin, the intoxicating combination going to both his heads.

Logan was so aroused it took some focus to set the bottle back on the floor. Ripping another foil packet from the string on the bedside table he fumbled with it, finally getting it open. Rolling on the latex sheath, he moved back to the bed, getting into position. Kissing her shoulders, he kept going until he nipped and soothed the skin above her racing pulse.

Whispering words of comfort in her ear, telling her how much he wanted her, how much he needed her, Logan slid down until his hips were in position. Breathing hard, he started to slide into her, her previous orgasms and current arousal making his way slick and warm. At Marie's low cry of pleasure he slid deeper, then withdrew. Pressing forward he started his rhythm, fluid thrusts deep to her core, sliding back until he had enough room to thrust again.

Her body did its best to keep him inside, her channel warm and snug around him the tremors of her body shaking him. He kept his hands on the bed to maintain his balance, his mouth moving on her back, neck, and around to her cheeks to kiss whatever skin he could reach. The conflicting textures of his beard and lips were driving her mad. The burn deep inside his body flared as she pushed her rear up, pulling him deeper.

"More Logan, more," Marie entreated as he continued to move inside her, kissing the soft, warm skin between her shoulder blades. He was all around her, inside her. There was no place that wasn't connected. She whimpered as he pulled out and moaned as he thrust back inside, sliding deep, his lips never leaving her skin.

His hips lunging as he strained to hold himself above her, Logan focused on the friction of her body under his, his body in hers. The feel of her bottom pressing against him, her silky warm skin against his sac, pushing him toward climax, made him lose his rhythm and he started thrusting toward fulfillment. The next time she reared up, pressing against him, wiggling her hips, panting his name, he wrapped an arm around her, his fingers starting to slowly torment her clit. Their bodies fastened together, he continued to stroke the erect nubbin until he felt her start to tremble, starting in the warm channel that was holding him tight. The endorphins flowing into his blood, he made one final thrust and came, her body still pulsing around him.

Neither could breathe easily, the aftershocks making muscles shake and breathing hard. Finally, feeling just strong enough to move, Logan reached up and extending a claw, and sliced the pink ropes that held her wrists. Pulling free of her tight heat reluctantly he got off the bed, cutting the bonds around her ankles, then flexed, pulling the claw back into his forearm.

Logan turned her over, gently rolling her off the pillows, laying her on her back. Leaning down he kissed her, slipping her only a bit of tongue before letting her go, retreating to the bathroom. He returned in a moment with a towel he had soaked in warm water. As brown eyes watched him wearily, he cleansed gently between her thighs, letting the moist, soothing heat of the towel relax her.

Noticing the bruises starting to form on her thighs and hips he said nothing, just leaned down and kissed her, relieved when her arms went around his neck, her mouth opening beneath his. Breaking the kiss to struggle to pull in a breath, Logan removed the now cool towel, throwing it in the direction of the bathroom.

Picking up her boneless form he pulled the sheet and blanket back. Placing her in the center he crawled in behind her, spooning her. He made certain Marie was shielded from the door and windows of the room by his larger frame, then curled around her. She was almost asleep when a soft giggle shook the breast under his hand.

"Logan?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"It was Poodles that gave you the idea for that last one, wasn't it?"

Kissing her shoulder, he smiled at the powerfully arousing memory. "It was all you and your Poodles, darlin'," Logan whispered.

Chuckling tiredly, she yawned and cuddled backwards, bringing her body closer to his.

His arms holding her tightly, their breathing evened out and they fell asleep, bodies entwined, skin to skin.

---

Logan's eyes snapped open when she started to pull out of his embrace. He had always been the one to creep out as dawn approached, and he didn't like the thought of Marie leaving him like that. Then again, this was the first time he could remember sleeping wrapped around another person all night. The unfamiliar feelings of panic, worry, and a slight bit of performance anxiety that lasted all of three seconds, stole over him. Thinking about it a second longer, he assured himself that there was no way she hadn't been satisfied last night. He could feel her in every pore of his being, could remember every cry of satisfaction.

"Where you goin'?"

She looked thoroughly debauched, her skin showing numerous love bites and bruises in the shape of his fingertips. Her hair was a mass of crazed tendrils around her shoulders. "Shower. It's ten forty five, we need to be out of here at noon and I need to clean up."

Good. She wasn't leaving him.

Logan considered the implications of that realization for only a moment, deciding to keep that for later reference. His second realization came that there was no way he could join her in the shower if they needed to leave so soon. Sighing, he rolled back over onto his back, deciding to try to get a bit more sleep. "'Kay," he grunted, not seeing her amused grin as she watched him fall asleep again.

Marie stood in the shower, letting the warm water flow over her, massaging muscles unused to such frenetic activity. Washing herself with her soapy body sponge she saw the marks his loving had left on her skin. She felt a sense of bone deep satisfaction, a warmth deep inside that had nothing to do with the surprisingly strong hot water pressure at the Kleen 'n' Komfy flowing over her. Logan had been tender and rough at the same time, his passionate loving as much a dichotomy as everything else about him was. Threading the conditioner through her hair she wondered if the next time would be as good, not questioning her instinct that said there would be a next time.

Marie emerged from the bathroom a half an hour later, feeling clean and wrapped in a towel, the cheap motel weave scratchy and uncomfortable against her skin. Looking longingly at Logan snoring softly on the wrecked bed, she regretted they had to leave the Kleen 'n' Komfy so soon.

"Logan. Logan!" Marie called softly first, then a bit more loudly.

He bolted upright, looking at her with a barely contained annoyance. "What?!"

"Get up, sugar. We have to be out of here in a half hour."

Running his hands over his face, he shook off the remnants of sleep. Giving her a dark look, he rolled off the bed, and gloriously naked, padded to the bathroom, cursing creatively.

She watched his tight butt as he stalked across the room, losing sight of him only when he entered the shower, since he didn't bother to close the door. Dressing quickly, Marie put on a pair of slate blue tights that matched a blue leather skirt, not quite mini, but close enough to count, and deep maroon sweater. A small smile on her full lips, she put the panties and bra back into the case and pulled on a pair of heeled leather boots, barely respectable for winter use. Looking around the room, she started to gather the rest of her things, untying the remains of her pink nightgown from the bed, blushing as she remembered. Putting the pieces in a plastic bag, she packed it back in the case, wondering if he'd be disappointed to find that her other nightgown was a small piece of forest green silk. Shaking off that particularly interesting vision, she pulled out a slate blue scarf and tied it around her neck, tying it so the purpling hickies were covered. She was opening her make-up case to do a quick touch up when he came out of the bathroom, hot steam pouring out behind him.

Logan had always been an attractive man. With only a towel around his hips, he looked amazing, factoring in that he was wet he looked better. Striding over to the table, he dug in his duffel bag, pulling out jeans and a baffling assortment of shirts. Still staring at him in the mirror, Marie's heart skipped a beat when he pulled the towel off and rubbed it over his body, then let it drop onto the bed. The thought that ran through her mind surprised her only a little - "Mine."

Finished pulling on his jeans and shirts, as if he could read her thoughts, his eyes met hers in the mirror.

"What?" It seemed to be his favorite word in the morning.

"No underwear?"

"No."

She smiled and started to put on some lipstick, looking up in shock when he appeared in the mirror right behind her.

His hands moved over her bottom, then under the skirt, across the cheeks, around her hips, and between her thighs. One large hand cupping her, he pulled her back to him, both watching each other in the mirror, ignoring the tube of Berry Surprise as it rolled out of her hand and onto the desk, then rolling, unnoticed to the floor.

His warm fingers stroked up and down her outer folds, making her even more aware she wore no panties beneath the tights. He nipped her neck, then soothed with his warm tongue.

"You were saying?"

"Nothing wrong with you free ballin', Logan." She moved back of her own volition this time, stroking his front with her rear. "Nothin' at all, sugar."

Finally removing his hand, he turned her around. She needed no prompting to press closer, to mold herself to him as he leaned down to take her mouth. The heeled boots giving her just a bit more height, she leaned up higher, forcing the kiss deeper, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, reminding them both of the delights of last night. When he finally broke it off he shook his head. "Fuck."

"Okay."

His grin was wry. "No, 'Fuck', as in we have to get on the road."

"Fuck."

"You got it," he said, his lips returning to hers for one last, quick kiss.

Letting her go, he went back into the bathroom to grab his toiletry bag. Dressed for the outdoors, once the fallen tube of Berry Surprise was recovered, then discarded - Marie not wanting anything that had spent time on the Kleen 'n' Komfy's carpet to touch her lips - they headed out the door of Room 211.

Leaving Logan to put their bags in the cars, Marie walked over to the office to turn in the key, assuring the clerk on duty that she had indeed spent a pleasant night. The clerk pointed her in the direction of the remains of the Continental Breakfast, and she grabbed the box of four Danishes and two huge styrofoam cups of coffee gratefully on her way out the door.

Catching up with Logan in the parking lot , Marie asked him to open her front passenger door, then handed him one of the cups of coffee. She put the other coffee in Sven's cupholder. She took one raspberry and one cherry danish out of the box and wrapping them in a napkin, set them next to her purse on the passenger seat. Giving the box to Logan, she smiled at his nonplused expression.

"It'll keep us until we can find a place to stop," she told him.

He nodded. "I know a place... a couple of hours from here. Good food, lots of it."

"Sounds perfect."

Turning back to face him, she watched him put his cup on the floor of his truck, the box on the driver's seat. Of one mind they moved closer together, arms going around each other, lips meeting. His lips left hers and moved down her throat, the soft hairs of his beard leaving red pinpricks on her face and neck. He nipped her neck, then back up, their lips reuniting for one last kiss before they broke the embrace.

"Follow me." Logan commanded gruffly, getting into his truck.

Nodding, Marie closed Sven's passenger door and walked around to the driver's side. Getting in, she took a bite of the Danish, grimacing at the fake butter taste, but swallowed anyway, washing it down with the only half bad coffee. Starting her car, she followed Logan back onto the highway, heading east once again.

---

They had been driving for two hours when Logan turned at a sign that read 'Sparky's Home Cookin' Ahead'. Marie followed him down the short drive to a diner with a huge parking lot; plenty of room for the semi-trucks that drove this route through northern Canada. The diner itself was a squat concrete and glass box, but looked to be in good repair, the windows sparkling clean. Parking Sven next to Logan's truck Marie shut off the engine and unbelted herself, watching Logan as he got out of his truck, a cloud of cigar smoke following him.

She grabbed her purse and got out of the car, meeting him at her trunk. "You should really wear your seat belt."

"Look, kid, I don't need advice on auto safety from you," Logan responded, shaking his cigar stub at her before putting it in his jacket pocket. He couldn't have been too mad at her though, she decided, since his arm went around her shoulders and stayed there.

"Fine. Don't blame me when you go sailing through your windshield one of these days," she told him as they entered the diner. Her attention was immediately distracted by the smell of cooking food and the sight of French Silk Pies in a revolving refrigerated case.

A tall, lanky woman met them at the front counter, smiling at Logan. "Wolverine, good to see ya, hun." She looked at Marie, and then at Logan's arm around Marie, and her eyes widened.

"Irma, this is Rogue. Rogue, this is Sparky's wife, Irma."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Irma smiled at the polite response and gave Marie an approving look. "Ya'll look hungry. Come on, I have a booth in the corner that you can stay for awhile and load up at."

Reaching their booth, Logan removed his jackets, and taking Marie's wool coat, hung them on the hooks attached to the booth. Irma left them to read their menus, telling them she would be back in a few minutes with some coffee.

"They're nice folks. Food's good too," Logan assured her.

Marie smiled, looking over the menu. "She certainly remembers you."

"Sparky used to own another fight bar years ago. When I started I didn't have much in the way of money so they'd float me until I got enough to pay for food."

"That was nice of them."

He nodded and gave Irma one of his rare friendly and sincere smiles when she returned with the coffee.

"Did ya'll have enough time? What can I get ya?"

At Marie's nod, Logan started ordering. "I'll have the steak platter."

Irma grinned. "The Wolverine usual, steak - still dripping, fries, no salad, no veg on the plate." He nodded his approval and Irma turned to Marie. "And for you, honey?"

"I'll have the sausage and eggs, with pancakes. And I'll take his salad and veg."

Irma nodded approvingly. "It'll just be a minute or two, huns." She made a motion around the mostly empty dining area. "Not many folks here at the moment. I'll leave ya be for now." Grinning cheerfully she ambled away.

Marie was getting an uncomfortable feeling. "Is it that obvious what we spent last night doing?" she asked him.

Logan grinned at her, male satisfaction all but oozing out onto the table. "I think it's the hickies on your neck that're giving it away."

"Logan!" Giving him an exasperated glare she grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth, walking past him to head down the back hall to restrooms.

While she was gone Irma reappeared with the salad, placing it on the table with a few little plastic cups of different dressings. "Forgot to ask what kind of dressing she wanted. Brought a few." She stared at him calmly. "Told her about the hickies, huh?"

"Yeah." His responding smile bared his teeth.

"Men. Well, tell her I'm sorry about the dressing thing." Her eyes lit up. "Not that you want her dressing, I'm sure."

"Bad pun. Irma, bad pun."

"I know, but I couldn't resist." She looked up when the chef's hat bobbed behind the counter and a bell rang. "Food's up." She headed back to the prep shelf, and stopping for a bottle of ketchup and a trio of syrups, brought their plates and put them down on the table. Setting Marie's food next to the salad and its little stable of dressings.

Marie returned to the booth just as Irma was putting down the last of her plates, her scarf wrapped a little higher on her neck. "Oh, good. I'm starving." She said idly, blushing faintly when Irma turned amused eyes in her direction.

"Little thing like you needs all the energy she can get. Eat up, child. We have pie, too."

Marie nodded and slid back into the booth.

Logan was already hacking away at his huge plate of deceased cow when he noticed Marie was staring at her hands as she picked up her fork.

"Darlin'? Somethin' wrong?"

"I forgot to put gloves on this morning." She frowned, grabbing her purse and starting to pull out the spare pair of thin gloves she kept in there.

"Don't bother. Besides, you seemed to have control last night." Logan shrugged as he upended the bottle of ketchup onto his plate, pouring most of it into a huge red puddle.

"I know, I just still worry about it sometimes, Logan."

"Baby, there ain't no reason for you to wear the damn gloves while you're eatin'." Taking a mouthful of steak so rare that if she thought about it would have probably been sick to her stomach, he nodded. "Don't worry about it."

She frowned, but resisted the urge to pull the gloves on. He was right, she had control, and unless Irma pulled her into a tango around the lunch counter, she really had no reason to wear the gloves while she ate anyway. Nodding, she poured a little bit of the French, Italian, and Thousand Island on to the salad and started in.

The salad didn't last long and she moved onto the pancakes, delighting in the smooth buttermilk taste. She looked up to see Logan staring at her.

"What?" she said, stealing his word of the day.

"Do that again."

"Do what again?"

"The licking thing, where you licked the syrup off the fork."

"You need help."

"Yeah, everyone says that."

"Everyone is right, Logan. Eat your cow. Before it decides it doesn't like you and walks off the plate."

His answer was a snort while he stuffed another huge mouthful of uncomfortably red meat into his mouth.

She pondered his request for a second, a devilish thought came to mind when she saw the sausage links on her plate. Giving into the urge, she took one of the links in her bare fingers. After rolling the hapless sausage in a puddle of maple syrup, in a bit of over the top, but to the point theatrics, she licked the syrup off.

Logan looked up from cutting a chunk of almost raw cow just in time to see her tongue swirl around the end of the sausage.

His fork clattered to the plate.

"Damn."

"No cursing at the dinner table." She blushed as the reminder popped out, sixteen years of her mama's lessons on manners coming out automatically. Giving him a leering smirk that said it all, she licked down the other side of the sausage link then bit off one end, and chewing happily, she leaned back and thrust out her chest a bit, knowing she had his full attention.

"That is good meat."

Logan was still staring at her; his eyes round and glazed, nostrils flaring.

Polishing the sausage off with gusto, she leaned back against the booth.

"It was sticky though. My fingers are all sweet and sticky." Checking out his reaction from beneath her eyelashes, she took her index finger into her mouth, and daintily sucked off the syrup. Then her middle finger... letting it remain in a suggestive position for a second before she moved on to her ring finger, then her pinky, finally her thumb.

"Tasted like more." She grabbed the next sausage and rolled it around in the syrup again, this time making sure the syrup was oozing down the sausage before she leaned forward to lick it off. Once the syrup had been removed, she again leaned back.

But this time, she raised her foot between his legs and moved it up until it the high heel of her boot was wedged between his crotch and the bench of the booth. And slowly she pressed her foot into his crotch, tapping gently to a rhythm she set in her head.

Watching his pupils dilate, she smiled and continued to eat her lunch. His eyes were dark by the time she finished licking off her fingers again. Pressing her foot long and hard against his noticeably harder crotch, she removed her foot and straightened up. Taking up her fork again she moved the little bowl of broccoli and carrots onto her plate.

"Yum. Veggies." She looked over at Logan, who was staring at her with narrowed eyes.

"Marie...."

"Your meat's gettin' cold, sugar. Better eat up now."

He growled at her and shifted on the seat, then recovered his fork from the table and speared a piece of steak. He bared teeth as he bit into the meat, tearing it off the fork. She returned his scowl with an innocent look. They ate steadily and soon all the plates were empty. Irma came and cleared them away, bringing a carafe of coffee and a promise of pie in a little bit.
Looking at him relaxing over his coffee, Marie decided to ask him a question she had been pondering. "Logan, why porn movies?"

He blinked at her, pulling out his cigar and chewing on it. She could see he was weighing his answer carefully. "I was good at two things, killin' and fuckin'. Fuckin' was easier."

"Oh." Marie stared at his hands, knowing the claws had something to do with his reasoning.

He sighed and leaned back against the booth, aware she was looking at his hands, at the claws just beneath the skin. "You... felt what happened last night. The claws, the nightmares." She nodded encouragingly. "I don't know where the claws came from, wherever it was is the same place the nightmares came from. Doing this," he motioned with the cigar, and she took it to mean the movies, "has never given me nightmares." He paused, looking at the cigar in his hand. "And it's a no pressure gig, can leave for a few weeks, come back, work a few weeks, leave again." He shrugged. "It just seemed to work out." He looked at her shrewdly. "Why did you get into this?"

She gave him a self-mocking twist of her lips. Refusing to meet his eyes she focused on her bare fingers as they played with her spoon. "You know about my mutation... when it manifested, I was kissing my... boyfriend. I put him into a coma for three weeks; I could feel him in my mind for a year afterward, until he finally faded."

"Ouch." He stared at her. "Am I in there now?"

"Sort of. I feel... strong from you, energized. But not you you." She looked apologetic. "It's hard to explain."

"That's okay, darlin'."

"Yeah. My family, they tried to be supportive, but it was too hard. I could see they were having problems with it all, so I left." She finally looked him in the eye, a sad look in hers. "I was planning on being alone for a long time, then I met Charlie and 'Ro, came to the mansion. And when Charlie and I started working on control, I just knew I had to."

"Why?"

She abandoned the spoon and picked up her coffee cup, taking a sip. "To prove I was touchable. Because I could be touchable again. To prove that I could control it, instead of it controlling me. It took five years to get to this point, to be able to touch skin to skin." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, the whole thing looks like fun."

He snorted. "It can be. It's usually more work than fun."

"Logan?"

"Hmmm?"

"What about that man at the bar? Vic?"

"You don't want to know about that."

"If we're running because of him, I think I do."

Damn it. She was right. Weighing it all, he capitulated. "Vic works for Erik Lehnsherr at Ironhard Brothers Studios. Fifteen years ago... I woke up in the middle of nowhere. Didn't know who I was; didn't have any money, any clothes, any idea of anything. I wandered around, finally got some clothes, money, but I was just drifting. Eight years ago I drifted into Erik. Vic works as his muscle. Erik was just starting in films, and got into trouble when Vic - Sabretooth - did some damage to his 'co-star'."

The expression on Logan's face was mocking as he said the last, making it clear to Marie that the co-star probably hadn't been a willing one. "Anyway, I ended up having to pay off Erik for helping me." He frowned, his hazel eyes turning dark and stormy. "It was supposed to be just your standard suck and fuck. But Erik can control metal; he used me as the weapon, to stab the girl in the film. She barely survived." He gazed at her with haunted eyes. "I left that night and never looked back. Met up with Charlie the next year. Been with BBHP since."

Taking his hand in hers, Marie ran her fingers over the knuckles, bringing his hand to her lips, kissing first the palm, then the space between the knuckles where the claws came out. "It wasn't your fault, Logan."

Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by Irma, bringing their two slices of French Silk to the table. Marie let go of his hand, leaning back so Irma could put the plates down on the table. With an apologetic glance, she left them alone again.

Logan started to say something, but the bell over the door rang and he turned to look at the new customer. Irma gave the twenty something man a glance, picking up a menu and led him to a booth diagonal from the one they were sitting in. He was unremarkable, and Marie, aside from looking up didn't pay him much heed.

As Irma led him by their table, Logan noticed a familiar scent. His eyes searched the features of the young man, trying to place him, but couldn't; then it dawned on him. The man looked up from his menu and gave Logan a blank look, then returned his attention to the lunch entrees, a slight smile on his face. Logan couldn't help the sharp snarl as he realized exactly who the stranger was.

"Logan? Is anything wrong?" Marie inquired, noticing his distraction.

"Everything's fine, Marie. Eat up, we should try to get back on the road."

Marie was confused, his behavior had made a one eighty in a matter of minutes. She wondered if he regretted taking her into his confidence. "Logan? I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."

He returned his attention as her voice faltered. "We need to get back on the road. Need to get back to the mansion, where you'll be safe," he nodded to himself, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Where I'll be safe?" she echoed. "Logan, what is up with you?"

He got up from the booth. "I said don't worry about it, darlin'. I'll be back in a few, okay?"

Still feeling uncertain, she looked up at him, unhappiness reflected in her eyes. "Okay."

With a nod he kept walking to the hallway in the back that led to the restrooms.

Her back was to the hallway and her mind was focusing on Logan's strange behavior, so she never noticed the young man as he gave Irma his order. Nor did she notice once he had ordered, and Irma had left for the kitchen, he rose and headed down the same back hallway Logan had just gone down.

Logan was washing his hands when the man entered the bathroom and opened his fly.

Logan stared at him in the mirror as he moved up to the urinal. "Does it really work?" he asked the other man.

The guy turned his head and grinned at him. "Oh yeah. Can pee and fuck with it. Pretty spiffy things you guys keep between your legs."

"Well, why don't you go play with it yourself and not bother following me around anymore?"

Moving to the door, Logan pushed the heavy steel trashcan in front of it and spun around, grabbing the young man. One powerful arm wrapped around the man's throat, the claws out and ready to slice with one stroke. He wrapped his other hand around the penis sticking awkwardly out of the khaki pants as the man flailed his arms, unable to break Logan's strong grip.

Logan leaned down and whispered the young man's ear. "You and Pricky - you stay away from me. You got that, bitch?"

The young man's body started to change, the fair white skin of the arms sticking out from the short sleeved sweater turning a mottled blue, scales growing here and there. Breasts started to grow and fill out the sweater. The penis lost all detail and turned blue, pulling up into the body, disappearing into the fly of the khaki pants, which hung awkwardly off the changed body.

Logan pulled back, letting the claws nick the blue skin at her throat. "I ain't kidding, Raven. I'm not interested in working with you sick fucks. Not now, not ever."

"But Logan, Erik is willing to offer you a very lucrative role in our new enterprise."

"I'm not fucking interested." He pushed her roughly from him, retracting the claws at the last second before they would have sliced into the blue flesh. "Not at all fucking interested. I see you again - I gut you like a deer. If, and I do mean if, they ever find your body, they'll think you're the fucking goddamned Fiji Mermaid."

The yellow eyes were flinty and cold. "What about your little friend, the fluffer?" she sneered.

"Don't even think it, Raven."

The yellow eyes glared at him hatefully. "She looks to be quite tasty. You know at the brotherhood we do like young and tasty," she said as a pink tongue obscenely licked blue lips.

"Stay the fuck away from her, from me, and you'll live. You show up in the same zip code as either of us, I will rip your cold heart out." Not waiting for an answer, Logan pushed the trash can aside and stormed out the door. Taking a second to calm his fury, he paced the hallway; not wanting to alarm Marie any more than she already was.

When he got back to the booth Marie smiled at him cautiously. Logan was frustrated, none of this was her fault, but he had to get them out of here, back on the road to New York. Once she was at the mansion she would be safe. Charlie, Scott and Hank knew about Erik, and what he was capable of. They would help him keep her safe. But he didn't want her to get anxious, or for that matter, ask questions he really didn't want to answer.

Marie examined him as he sat and fidgeted, knowing something was up. She just wasn't sure what; though she had a feeling it had to do with the blonde giant from last night. The young man returned from the restroom, turning to give her a smile, which she returned distractedly. Logan growled at the young man then, but the guy just kept walking back to his table, where his lunch was waiting for him.

Irma returned to their table, bringing two boxes for their untouched pieces of pie; she put the pie into the boxes, packaging them with a couple of plastic forks in a white bag. Logan asked for a large coffee to go, while Marie ordered a large coke. Nodding, Irma went to fill their drinks, and Logan and Marie slipped into their jackets. Meeting at the front counter Logan paid for the food, adding a generous tip.

Telling them to stop by again, Irma watched as the couple left the diner, Logan putting the bag with the pie into the camper, while Marie put her coke in her car. Turning back to her other customer, Irma noticed that the young man was watching them also. Grabbing the coffeepot, she headed over to refill the young man's cup.

Out in the parking lot Logan rubbed Marie's cheek. "Let's try to make some good time. Okay, darlin'?"

She nodded and he leaned down, relieved when she returned his kiss.

---

They had been on the road for hours, making good time and mileage. Logan expected that they would be crossing over into Saskatchewan soon. They had stopped twice for gas and bathrooms, grabbing more caffeinated beverages at each stop. Logan hoped to make Vanson, just over the provincial line, in a few hours. He knew an out of the way motel; it wasn't the Ritz, but the owners kept it clean and it was off the main roads so it should be safe for a night. He looked at the clock; they had been traveling for two hours since their last stop, and it was dark out. He knew they should stop for a few minutes and move around; maybe eat that pie they hadn't had time for back at Sparky's.

Marie was curious when Logan pulled over onto a road that proclaimed it the way to a 'Historic Marker', but followed him down the rough road about a quarter of a mile. Parking her car alongside the truck, she got out, thankful for the opportunity to move around again.

"Why are we stopping, Logan?"

"Thought maybe the American girl would like to see the place General Green rallied the troops back in 1873."

"Ummm... okay." Marie tilted her head, a finger twisting in her hair, her expression curious.

"You can see it better from inside the camper."

Her eyes flew to his, a smile curving her full lips, her brown eyes giving him a look he couldn't help his body's response to. He felt his jeans get tighter. "Oh, really?"

He nodded. "Rallying is always better when seen inside a camper." His brain gave him a swift slap upside the head. He had only been thinking about the pie, but the glimmer in her eyes was causing him to do some major rethinking.

"Well, you are the native tour guide, so I'll have to take your word for that."

He unlocked and opened the door, lifting her inside. Climbing in after her, he turned on the battery-powered lamp, locking the door behind him.

"This looks cozy, sugar. So, how many troops did General Whatshisface rally?"

"Who?"

"You know, the rallying General?"

"Oh, him. Lots. Lots of general rallying."

The look she gave him was lascivious as she pulled off her coat and perched on the edge of the table. Logan moved in between her thighs, taking her gloved hands in his when she started to pull the thin leather off.

"Leave them on."

"Logan?"

"Leave them on."

"Why?"

He started to untie the scarf from around her neck, revealing the hickies he had given her last night. Kissing her thought the scarf, he encouraged her to open her mouth, sliding inside to war playfully. When they broke apart, breathing heavily to force the air into straining lungs; he whispered into the hair that covered he ear. "Anything worth having is worth the effort."

Her gloved hands framed his face and she pulled him to her, the veil of the scarf coming between them again as she nipped his lips, then soothed them with licks and little kisses. He shifted even closer and she could feel the solid pressure of his hardness pressing against her.

"Marie? Darlin?"

Not trusting her voice to answer the unasked question, she let her actions speak for her. She fought with zippers and buttons until his jackets were gone, then pulled him even closer by the collar of his flannel shirt, smiling as wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His lips pulled on the lobe of her ear, her hair between them and she moaned. Her hands moved to his solidly muscled rear, stroking, then pulled up his shirts, her hand wiggling between his shirts and his skin, applying pressure to the spot on his lower back. He rewarded her by thrusting into her, calling her name.

"Damn it, Logan, why do you have to wear so many clothes?" Marie pushed him back and let her hands move between them. Finally discovering the way the clasp opened on the huge belt buckle, she got the belt open. Struggling with the button and the zipper of his jeans, she breathed a sigh of relief as she freed him, giggling as his penis fell unceremoniously out of his jeans. Looking up at him under lowered lids, she gave him a siren's smile as a gloved hand moved up and down the long shaft, her thumb stroking the head.

The touch of her hands on him caused his pulse to accelerate. He reached over her shoulder to a cabinet; pulling out a box of condoms, he put it next to her then stepped back, jeans hampering his movements, bunched at his feet. Grabbing both her knees he pressed them apart gently, opening her wide to him, then one large hand moved in between her thighs and pressed tightly to her warm center, the tights between them already moist. He held his hand there, completely still as his other hand stroked her leg. She stared at him, wondering what he was doing as the warmth of his palm seeped into her skin.

"Hold it up." He gave her the thin silk scarf and she obeyed; his lips returning to hers, taking her mouth as his hand continued to warm her through the tights. Then his hand started to move.

Ever so slightly, he started to press. Then a slow grind, increasing the pressure. Next his fingers started to move, down at the bottom of her body, curling upwards so they were curled around her, the middle finger pressing into her cleft as much as it could through the barrier of the tights. Then the hand moved, so the palm was higher on her abdomen, and his fingers started to dig into the tights, trying to wiggle into the folds of skin that protected her clit.

His mouth was still on hers, and even through the silk barrier the combination of too many cigars and too much coffee, mixed with that unique taste that was all Logan, made her whimper. Her knees pressed together so he was locked to her, his hand held in place, his fingers still gently moving in that little furrow.

He broke the kiss then, leaning back slightly, making sure she could see his face. "You trust me baby?"

"Yes."

His expression was fierce, primal. She exhibited no hesitation at all. "Open your legs again, and hold still."

She did as he asked, and when the inch of claw popped, she showed no surprise. Leaning back and bracing herself on her arms, she imagined she could hear the sound of passion soaked fabric being sliced. He pushed her knees wider and she felt the gentlest of breezes as the cool air touched her. Then by a finger wrapped in an undershirt he had grabbed from the clean laundry hanging on a rope. The fabric covered digit moved down, inside the lips, then pushed inside and stayed there as her hips bucked, her hands returning to caress him.

He saw the scarf fall between them, and using his free hand, draped it over her head like a veil, still able to see her chocolate eyes. He pulled her forward and kissed his way down her neck to her sweater; then back up the other side, his finger inside her never stopping, hitting the top of her channel, searching until the tensing of her limbs told him he had found her g-spot.

Pulling away from her neck, he removed his hand and turned his attention to grabbing a condom. She let him go and watched closely as he got the wrapper open, taking out the condom and rolling it on. She was ready, moist and fragrant in the close quarters of the camper. Pulling her forward, he slid home on the first thrust, her legs going around his hips and locking, her arms going around him, pulling him tighter.

Logan moaned as their bodies moved together, feeling lightheaded. Dear god, it was good. Pulling out, he found he couldn't retreat far, her legs holding him close, so he thrust deep again; his balls scratching against the tights, his cock so deep he knew he was at the mouth of her womb. He didn't realize she still had the scarf between them until he felt her, nibbling at his neck. The primal act excited him further, and he began to move again, listening to her sweet voice as she murmured encouragement while she nibbled his neck and ears.

Picking her up off the table, he walked backwards, mincing, shuffling steps due to the jeans still around his feet. Using all the strength and stability that came with a metal reinforced skeleton, he held her, and as she anchored herself to him at the neck, pushed her hips back, then he pulled her forward, smiling when she moaned.

Turning until he had her back flush against the full-length cabinet next to the door, he pushed until she was braced against the veneer. Holding her hips, her hands around his neck, he thrust again, hard. Their hips slamming together he kissed her again; lips opening, their tongues mimicking the movements below through thin silk.

"Deeper, sugar. Deeper."

Hearing her words he continued to move deep and strong. "Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want."

He nibbled at her earlobes, lunging deep again when she screamed his name. He knew she hadn't come, and he could feel her heart pounding; heard the blood coursing in her veins, her breathing like his, unsteady and ragged. It was a full minute until she moved again.

Grabbing his hair in her gloved hands, she pulled his face until he was lip to lip and eye to eye with her; the silk wet against her flesh, molding to her features. "Do. That. Again. Now," she panted.

Grinning wildly, lips diving for hers, he thrust deep again, the cabinet door slamming in time with every stroke. She was tight and hot; and he was telling her so, his voice guttural as he alternated kissing her with talking low and dirty in her ear. The next time she screamed his name she was coming, her muscles holding him tighter than anything he'd ever felt. He knew they were both on that edge of pain... and then he fell over the edge, and the pain became white hot, and he didn't think anymore.

When Logan came back down from the high, he realized that her head was lolling against his shoulder. He pulled the scarf away, revealing her flushed face.

"Marie? Baby?"

"No, Marie, adult."

"You okay, baby?"

"Do we have to move anytime in the next hundred years?"

"Might be a good idea if we could move. You must have the wood pattern on your back from the door."

"I always wanted a tattoo," she dismissed.

He snorted and she smiled at him, still curled around him. "You're so beautiful," he told her.

"So are you, Logan, so are you." Marie's lips were moving again, back on his throat, this time he felt her soft lips without any barrier between them. Then he felt her teeth. "Not fair. It just heals up," she said sulkily.

He sighed deeply, happy, happier still when she bit him again. "You'll just have to bite me on a regular basis."

She nodded agreeably against his neck.

"Gonna move now." His large hands under her bottom to support her, he shuffled back, slowly, as not to trip over the jeans still around his feet. "Can your legs let go?"

"Don't wanna."

Hazel eyes met chocolate brown. "You're gonna be difficult about this, aren't you?"

Her leather covered fingers were playing with that sensitive skin under his hair, at the nape of his neck. Her smile was carnivorous. "Yes."

Standing entwined in the middle of his camper, they made an interesting sight. Logan, tall, his hair in disarray from her fingers, his strong arms supporting Marie's shapely rear, keeping her held tight to him, her skirt creased between them. Her long brown hair was a mess as the sweat-dampened locks slowly started to dry. Her face was expressive in its satisfaction, eyes languorous, lips swollen. Logan was still within her, her legs holding him tightly, keeping him inside.

Abandoning his bid to have her let go he once again took little steps and tried to move so he could put her back on the table. He was trying to keep his balance, concentrating on that one thing when she clasped her inner muscles on his manhood, and shifted so that she bore down as much as she could in her position.

"Again?"

She nodded, lips moving back to his, her arms tightening around him. It was a few minutes before they broke for breath. "You're so good, sugar. You deserve a standing ovation."

"Ahhh... you're my adoring pubic?"

She snorted at the pun, then clenched him tighter again, her head falling back as he grew and lengthened inside of her, the warm, solid flesh filling her.

Completing the turn, he moved so that she was once again on the table. He pulled her hips toward him, and making sure she wouldn't bump her head, pushed her until she was lying on her back, her pelvis raised and connected to him still, but the rest of her torso stretched slightly out.

Following her down, he took a nipple into his mouth through the sweater, his teeth gently worrying it, leaving a wet spot in the fabric. His ears ringing with her moans, he grinned then moved to the other nipple. While he was suckling, he wondered how it would look were someone to come upon them. Marie in a wrinkled skirt and sweater with two chewed and wet spots, he reached over to the box of condoms, and with a regretful sigh, pulled free.

"Logan?"

"New rubber, baby."

Her mutters weren't anything approaching language, so he ignored them and worked quickly, off with the old and on with the new. Coming back to her, dressed in his new latex suit, he looked at her, taking in her thoroughly debauched appearance. Standing at the V of her thighs again he growled fiercely as her legs went back around his knees and she sat up, pulling him forward. Her lips wandered over his face, kissing his bearded cheeks on her way to his lips. The need for air overwhelming them again, he leaned back, feeling teeth at his nipples, through the layers of shirts he wore.

"Impatient, are we?"

"I feel empty." The passion glazed brown eyes gave him a hangdog look.

"Can't have that, baby."

She was humming... her body vibrating on its own, the muscles dancing in reaction. He wasn't going to last long; all he wanted was to be inside of her. Holding her hips tightly he pushed into her, ever so slowly. Then he pulled back a bit, repeating the movements, until on the last thrust he was in her to the hilt, bodies flush. Lips locked together, she braced her lower back and moved upwards, his hands once again under her, pulling her up, her legs locked behind him. It was fast and sweet, their mutual prize obtained quickly, Marie first, Logan taking one more stroke to go over.

Marie fell backward, onto the table, bringing him with her. He laid his head at her breasts, listening to her heart beating strongly, her breath catching; every cell in her body calling his name.

When he could move again, he left her, removing the rubber, pulling up his jeans. Grabbing the white bag, he returned to the table; setting the bag down on the bench. He pulled her up off the table, and hugging her to him, sat down on the bench, settling Marie in his lap.

Opening the bag and taking out the triangle shaped styrofoam boxes, Logan grabbed a plastic fork and took a huge bite of pie, looking down to see one brown eye open and watching him. The next forkful of pie was more modest, and Marie opened her mouth to receive it. While she chewed, he took another bite, then fed her more of the creamy chocolate pie.

When he opened the second box she took the fork from his fingers and put it down on the table. She gave him a sweet smile, her eyes shining merrily and he knew she was up to something. Drawing a finger through the whipped cream and chocolate, she brought her finger to his lips and spread the creamy chocolate over them. At his raised eyebrow she presented her finger, and he pulled it into his mouth, sucking it clean. Freeing her finger, Marie bent down and started cleaning the pie from his lips, her tongue lapping carefully. She ignored the invitation when he parted his lips, letting her tongue bathe him, removing the sweet glaze. Turning back to the pie she took another dollop of cream and chocolate and started the procedure again, smiling at the low growling purr that came from deep in his chest.

Trying for thirds, Marie sighed unhappily when he shifted her in his lap, but quickly changed her mind when his finger collected a cluster of the smooth cream. With a wry smile he started drawing it over her kiss bruised lips. When she pulled his finger into her mouth, sucking on it, swirling her tongue around it, then licking the length from his knuckles to the tip, he moaned. Remembering his resolve to not go at it again until they were in Vanson; Logan started to lick the sweet chocolate off her lips, kissing the corners of her mouth when the sweet creaminess was gone.

"You taste so sweet, darlin'." Logan said softly, nuzzling her ear.

She blushed, and his response was to take the last of pie filling and one last time, make her lips even sweeter. This time, when her lips parted he accepted the invitation, thrusting inside, the taste of chocolate and cream mixing with the essences of Logan and Marie, creating a flavor that made them light headed. Neither moved, letting the embrace mellow until lips broke apart. Pulling her even closer, Logan rested his furry cheek on her forehead.

"So, do you always do that?" Marie questioned, stroking her hand over his chest, sliding up his neck to pet the soft hairs on his cheeks, feeling relaxed and happy.

"Always do what?"

"The purring thing."

"What purring thing?"

"You, you're purring."

Looking thoughtful, he didn't talk, just listened and heard the low rumble. "Don't remember ever doing it before."

"It sounds like a happy purr," she said, still stroking his furry cheek.

"No doubts, baby. No doubts." Logan said, feeling a deep satisfaction as she curled into him.

They remained like that for a little while, until Marie yawned and Logan remembered his plans.

"Marie?"

"I'm not moving."

"Gotta this time, baby."

"Why?"

"We're in the middle of nowhere."

"So?"

"We move, you can have a bath," he tempted. Not that that was his most favorite idea; after all, she smelled like him and an incredibly erotic them. That suited him fine; but as good as this was, she had to be feeling sore. He thought about that for a minute. She should definitely be feeling sore.

"Marie, baby... don't you feel sore?"

"No." She looked thoughtful. "I should though, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah."

She smirked at him.

"What?"

"It's you."

"Well, thank you, darlin', it's been amazing, but still..."

"No, you rampagingly lecherous egomaniac." She softened her words by moving so he could kiss her softly. "Your mutation, when you healed me. It must have some lingering effects. By all rights I should be lying in a coma unable to walk."

"So if I touch you..."

"We both get your libido and stamina." She kissed him again, her eyes laughing. "Or else we're really mink mutants."

Nodding, he pondered this, but a look out at the dark sky made him reprioritize. "We gotta go. We can make it to Vanson in an hour, check in and relax. But we need to get back on the road."

She climbed from his lap, knowing he shared her regret. He kissed her one last time, pulling away when she tried to put her arms around his neck. Looking down at herself, she frowned and wrinkled her nose at the creased skirt and the chewed and still wet sweater. "Sugar, this time you go in and get the room."

---

They had been back on the road for half an hour and Logan cursed the snow that had started to fall as they entered a canyon full of twisting roads. He watched Marie's headlights carefully in his side mirror. He hoped she wasn't too tired to make the drive, but he knew they couldn't stop just yet. Approaching a nasty bit of road, a few kilometers of sharp turns, he looked back again, while still trying to keep one eye on the road ahead.

His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the Volvo swerve, the headlights moving to the side; not straightening up to shine on his truck. He breathed a sigh of relief as she righted the car, pulling in line behind him once again. His relief didn't last long as he turned his attention to the road in front of him. Logan cursed as he tried to swerve, but he was too late to avoid the fallen tree in the middle of the road.

Logan felt the glass of his windshield as his body flew through it, then a thudding pain as his head hit the snow covered pavement; his body skidding through the snow. The only thing he could think of in those seconds of flying and sliding was Marie. And the fact she was going to hold it over him forever that she told him to wear his seat belt.

Marie almost slammed into the truck's rear bumper. It was a surreal moment, watching the camper lurch violently forward, then fling back again. The crashing noise was deafening as it echoed around the stone cliffs. Slamming down hard on the brakes, she threw Sven into park and got out of her car, grabbing her cell phone. She struggled to gain a foothold in the snow as she made her way to the cab of his truck. Her heeled boots were not really meant for winter, and she slid as she reached the truck, staring in panic at the hole in the windshield. She only half noticed the flames inside the camper; her eyes were desperately searching for Logan, finally sighting a dark lump about fifty feet away.

"Logan!" When she reached his side, she fell to her knees in the snow, ignoring the wet and the cold as it penetrated the thin tights. Rolling him onto his back, she ran her hands over him. Relieved, she watched as the cuts on his forehead began to heal up, her heart relaxing slightly as he moaned a curse. She started the auto dial of her phone, thinking to call the mansion to see if someone could fetch them in the Blackbird.

Focused as she was, she didn't notice when the young man from the diner came up behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized Jean's voice. "Hello?"

"Jean, it's Rogue, I ..." She flailed as a chemical covered cloth was placed over her nose and mouth. She noticed, in the last second of consciousness, the flesh-pink colored arm just above the glove-covered hand turned blue.

She never felt the phone fall from her hands, heard Jean calling her name, or saw the huge foot crush it into the snow with a firm stomp.

---

Her head ached. That was the first thing that Marie noticed as she came around, opening one eye, then the other. The second thing was she hadn't remembered seeing chintz curtains on the road. Shifting her hips, she realized she was lying on a rather comfortable mattress, but as far as she could remember, her car didn't have a really comfortable mattress. Turning her head slightly, she noticed it was a mattress with Laura Ashley linens.

Hmmm. She thought about it some more. Nope, she decided, pushing down the urge to panic at the 'Alice through the Looking Glass' vibes she was getting - she didn't own a car with a comfortable mattress and Laura Ashley linens. The Volvo had cupholders aplenty, but no expensively outfitted mattress. Forcing the lingering haze from her mind, she tried to remember how she got here. The last thing she remembered was snow, cold, and Logan's truck looking frighteningly like an accordion and Logan...

"Logan?" Sitting up fast started her head pounding even harder, and she wished someone had warned her about that before she had gone ahead and done it.

"I'm right here, darlin'."

Flipping over onto her side she saw Logan lying beside her, looking bored and incongruous, as he was stretched out on the Laura Ashley in his flannels, leathers, and denims.

"Weren't we..." she paused, considering. "... not here?"

"Raven and Vic picked us up just outside of Vanson."

"Oh. That isn't good, is it?" Marie continued her attempt to clear the persistent cobwebs from her brain, trying to jump-start the neurons.

"Nope."

"Vic was the guy in Laughlin City, right?" She felt a little better when Logan nodded; at least she wasn't completely brain dead. "Who is Raven?"

"Another mutant working for Erik. Blue and female naturally. Shape shifter. That guy at Sparky's? The one who came in before we left?" When she nodded, he continued. "That was Raven."

Marie blinked, pondering this new snippet of information. "Oh boy."

"Yep," he responded, shifting over onto his side. "Look, darlin', I'm gonna try to get you out of this, but don't believe anything Erik, or his minions, say. They lie all the time."

"Really, Wolverine... Not everything was a lie, was it?" Logan tensed at the voice, which sounded calm, English, and amused. Marie risked the pain to turn her head, looking at the man who stood in the doorway. He was tall and debonair; he didn't look like the kind of guy who would be into snuff flicks. Then again, she reminded herself silently, Charlie Xavier didn't look like a guy who would stage orgies in the library, either.

"Actually, it was, Erik. You said one movie and out." Logan was maintaining his calm fa�ade well, Marie thought. Unless you were really attuned to him, you would think he was completely bored. As it was, she knew that he was tightly reining in his need to commit mayhem, a low growl coming from his throat.

"Yes, well it was a longer," he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Contract than we originally thought. And we do need our star back. Victor is good for many things, but he just doesn't have the same... je ne sais quoi that you have, dear boy." He strode into the room, stopping at the vanity, leaning one hip against it, his green military sweater making his face look pale. Erik gave her a faint smile, then turned toward the door as a woman with blue skin, a lot of blue skin, Marie noted, as it was all exposed, and yellow eyes entered the room. Vic lumbered in behind her, taking up position behind Erik. "Ahhhh... Raven, Victor. How lovely you could join us."

"Of course, Erik. I wouldn't want to be left out of this particular shoot." She licked her lips at Logan and Marie felt her hackles rise. Vic just grunted and looked stupidly violent, his large black eyes focusing in on Marie.

Looking at Vic, Logan sneered, then turned back to face Erik. "What, Little Bo Peep got tired of Pricky there fucking her sheep? Prick in Mouth disease cutting into the sicko trade?" Logan looked straight at Erik, ignoring Raven and Vic with open contempt. "Erik, we're leaving."

"I'm afraid not, dear boy. Come now, one movie, for old times sake. I'll even give you a choice. Do it willingly, and I won't make your young lady star, she can stay here safe and sound while you do a few hours work." Erik's eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a more ominous tone. "Do it unwillingly, and I will have her star, instead of Raven."

That was apparently more than Logan was willing to put up with and he gave into the urge to commit mayhem. He jumped off the bed, the claws coming out. Placing himself between Marie and their three captors, he growled threateningly. Marie ignored the pain in her head and moved to her knees on the bed behind him, peering over his shoulder.

"You don't get to touch her, Erik. None of you."

"Wolverine, you forget yourself." Erik raised a hand and Logan started to levitate, his arms outstretched, the claws extending sidewise. "That remarkable metal does run through your entire body, doesn't it?"

Logan growled as the claws continued to spread out, the flesh around them tearing painfully, his body unable to heal with the blades out and still stretching. Marie trembled as Logan broke, groaning with the pain.

"Stop it! Let him go!" Marie jumped off the bed and ran around Logan, heading toward Erik, not knowing how to stop this, but determined to try.

"Victor?" Erik prompted.

The sheet came from Marie's right, twisting around her, disorientating her. Then she was thrown, feeling sharp talons through the sheet, back onto the bed. The headboard stopped her, knocking her unconscious.

Logan watched in horror, his own torture forgotten, as Vic followed the sheet wrapped Marie to the bed. One large hand prodded at the sheet, pawing at her breasts, the sharp black nails cutting incisions in the fabric, just above Marie's fair skin. Vic gave him a look, and he knew it was a warning. 'I'm just waiting until he tells me I can cut her '.

"You see, Wolverine," Erik said and Logan turned his attention back to the man who continued to keep him hovering a foot off the ground; his augmented body betraying him as the metal flexed in ways the bastards who put it in never could have imagined. "I really don't think either you, or your young lady, want Victor to involve himself, do you?"

"Nobody touches her."

"Of course, dear boy, no one but you." Erik assured him, and with a wave of his hand, the pressure forcing the claws apart relaxed and Logan sheathed them immediately, the healing factor working instantly. Another wave and Logan was deposited gently back on the floor. "Wolverine, really, where is the harm? One movie, which will bring ensure our survival in the marketplace and you and your lady friend will allowed to go your way in peace." Erik paused, staring past Logan to watch Vic, a clear message to Logan. "Dear boy, you have only the one choice. Which is it?"

Logan knew that he couldn't trust any of them, but looking over at Marie's unmoving form, Vic running his claws menacingly over the sheet that covered her, he knew that he had no options. His only hope to keep her safe was to go along with Erik - until an opportunity to escape presented itself.

"One shoot. Then we go. I have your word, right, Magneto?" Logan sneered, using Erik's old stage name, reluctantly agreeing to the deal.

Erik clapped his hands, ignoring the name. "Marvelous, dear boy! Mortimer will be so happy you have agreed to star in his production." He looked at his watch. "Unfortunately, he is still in transit, so we will not be able to start for a few hours yet." He turned to Vic and Raven, waving them toward the door. Vic growled and left the still unmoving Marie reluctantly, slicing the sheet all the way down as he left the bed, grinning evilly at Logan. "Why don't you and the young lady get some rest," Erik said, shifting with unnerving ease into the role of genial host. "We shall start filming as soon as Mortimer arrives and sets up. Victor will bring you and the young lady some food when he brings your costume."

Logan said nothing, just glared at all three as they left, Raven closing the door after them. As soon as the door closed he was at the bed, pulling the ripped sheet from Marie, revealing her brown eyes, opened wide in confusion and apprehension.

"Logan?"

"Marie? You okay, darlin'?"

"My head hurts again. What happened while I was out?"

"I'm going to make a movie with them, then they'll let us go. I hope."

"That really doesn't sound like a good idea, Logan."

"It isn't. But if I make it with Raven, you won't have to be in it."

"Damn, my chance to be a star." Marie rubbed her head and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping to tame it a little.

Logan's gaze was grim. "You don't want to star in a movie here."

Marie nodded in agreement. "So they want you for a real snuff film. Why?"

"You just saw why. The claws, my nice metal claws." His tone was bitter, his expression bleak. "Erik can control them if I don't do what he says."

"So he wants you to kill someone?"

"As long as it's Raven, it's not killing. She can make recesses for the claws. Looks real, but it isn't. That's why I agreed. The other choice for the role was you."

Marie frowned. "Well, hell. I don't like these people."

He sat down on the bed, gathering her in his arms, sighing when she cuddled nearer.

"Not too fond of them myself." He looked around the room. It looked like a regular bedroom suite, but he was pretty sure they were being watched. Somewhere there were cameras. Well, nothing they could do about that. "We have a few hours. You want a nap?"

"Not really. Are they watching us?"

Logan had to hand it to her; she had a quick mind, his Marie did. Whoa. His Marie. He liked that. Oh yeah, Logan. Good time for self-realization. Hell.

"Probably."

"Are they going to let us leave here? Really?"

Logan thought about lying to her, but decided against it. "I really don't know. I would say the chances are fifty - fifty at this point."

"Great."

"Yep." Logan left her embrace and started prowling around the room again. The door was locked tight. He could hear a steady humming sound that told him there was some kind of electricity flowing through it. Wonderful. If he used the claws, he would be fried. If he got himself fried, he had no doubts that Erik would let Vic take Marie as a consolation prize while he healed. The only window in the room had bars, and it too hummed with an electrical current. Looking out the window, all he could see was fields, as far as the eye could see. He figured they must be at Erik's place just outside of Toronto, a large monstrosity of a house with acres of fields for privacy. The only other door in the room led to a bathroom, little hotel sized toiletries sitting on the counter. That was Erik, the host with the most. Sighing to himself, he slipped off his jackets, throwing them over a chair.

Logan pointed out the bathroom and the security measures on the door and window to Marie. Rising, she threw her coat on top of his on chair in front of the vanity table. She headed toward the bathroom, and Logan returned to the bed, bracing his back against the headboard. When she emerged, her hair was still slightly wet from washing her face. He opened his arms and she climbed back on the bed, scooting close to him.

They were silent for a few minutes before he felt soft lips kissing his throat. He looked down at her in surprise. "You're kidding?"

"Not really." She continued to kiss him, his chin, his cheeks. She giggled softly as his sideburns tickled her nose. "If they're going to kills us, we might as well have a good time before we're snuffed, pardon the pun. If they let us go, well, we've still had a good time, right?"

"You are a lusty little thing, aren't you?"

"Like you're complaining."

"Most definitely not complaining," he said, lowering his lips to hers. She was right. If they were watching, they were watching, and right now the odds that they would make it back to Charlie's were probably less than fifty percent anyway.

They got up off the bed, pulling off their boots, tossing them next to the chair on one side of the bed. Logan headed over to the door to hit the light switch. He really didn't care if they watched, but he wasn't going to make it any easier for them either. When he reached the wall he turned around in time to see Marie open the bedside table drawer.

"Hmmm."

"What?" he asked.

She held up two boxes of condoms. "Dayglo Orange or Strawberry flavored?"

He laughed harshly, the stress of the day making this whole thing even more surreal. "I'll leave that choice to the lady."

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplated the two boxes, her nose wrinkling. Turning her back and blocking his view, she took a couple of packets out of each box and tossed them onto the bed, spinning around to leer at him. "Okay."

He flicked the light switch. And for once in this day of endless fuck-ups, something actually went right for them. The lights went out and the room was effectively plunged into shadows, the only light coming through the closed curtains at the window.

Logan gave the electrified door one last lingering look of hate, then turned and walked back to his lover. Meeting her at the foot of the bed, he started to unbutton his shirt until her fingers brushed his aside and she completed the task herself. She rubbed herself against him as she pulled the shirt off his shoulder. His hands started to move over her hair, down her shoulders. Next came his black t-shirt, her hands getting under the hem, then moving up his skin to nipples, where she pressed hard before smoothing back down. Grasping the hem, Marie pulled the shirt up, letting him pull it off.

Barechested, he couldn't help the shiver that ran through him, or the way his nipples tightened as she kissed, then raked her teeth softly against the sensitive nubbins. Hands moving to his belt, she pulled it free, then tugged on the button of his jeans. Her hands stilled when he took them in his. Logan took the hem of her maroon sweater and quickly pulled it off, throwing it on top of his shirts. The cool air hit her nipples, followed quickly by his warm mouth, causing her knees to tremble. Her insistent hands returned to his fly to push the zipper down. He sighed as her warm hands moved inside the jeans, pushing them down, then moving between his legs to stroke him.

Marie froze as he began to return the favor; his hands fumbling for a minute with the single button on her skirt before managing to defeat it, pulling at the zipper. She let go of his hardening length as he pushed the skirt down, letting it fall to become to a stiff cylinder of blue suede at her feet, leaving her dressed only in the slate blue tights. He looked down at her with a fierce expression; she realized again just how much bigger he was than she. She took advantage of his closeness and rubbed her breasts against his chest, knowing he found the touch of her smooth skin and erect nipples against his furry chest as arousing as she did. Her hand stole to the patch of hair just bellow his navel, then lower, her fingers taunting him.

They kissed, strong and deep, a loving exchange of passion and lust. Marie could feel his hands skim down her back, curving under her bottom to pull her closer to him. When he broke the kiss he lifted her up, pulling her tightly to his body where they could feel each other completely, skin warm, nerves tingling. Logan leaned forward, placing her on the bed, then leaving her only long enough to remove his pants and socks, returned to lean over her, kissing his way from shoulders down.

"Logan," Marie moaned when he reached her breasts, suckling lightly.

He lifted his head only for a moment and gave her a reassuring look, but he was too far gone, the fires burning too hot within him to smile. She understood, and at her nod, he returned his mouth to her skin; feasting on the taste of salt combined with that unique flavor of Marie. He could smell the delicate, spicy musk and knew that her need was as strong as his. Looking up he saw their bodies reflected in an old fashioned dressing mirror in the corner.

She was beautiful, lying on the bed, her dark hair spread over the light colored covers. Firm breasts, the nipples hard and peaked rose from her chest, moving with every deep breath. He saw himself perched over her, chest heaving, his erection swaying as his he breathed heavily, inhaling the scent of her desire. Looking down he saw the image completed. Marie's lovely face looked up at him expectantly her brown eyes warm and passionate, the button nose and full lips. She smiled, showing him her white teeth, the slight space between the top front ones striking him as particularly sexy. He leaned in and kissed her nose, then lips, cheeks, down to her throat before pulling back to look in the mirror again. Her legs were spread apart, still encased in those blue tights and he was between them, the slit he had cut in them hours ago open, curling brown hairs and a hint of soft pink skin peeking out. Looking back to the mirror he chuckled at his appearance, the upswept hair at the corners of his temples making him look wild and untamed.

Leaning back down to kiss her belly, he curled his fingers around the waistband of the tights and pulled down, moving back to remove them completely. When she was completely nude, he felt a sense of relief. She wanted him, even if this was the last time. Looking back at the mirror, he made a decision.

He grabbed her legs and pulled her down to the edge of the bed, then leaned over her. "Put your legs around my waist." She gave him a questioning look, but did as he asked, her legs going around his waist, and by instinct her arms went around his neck. Giving her a quick kiss he stood up, taking her with him. Pulling the white and yellow flowered comforter and sheet down, he grabbed one of the condoms before it slid off. Sliding her onto the sheets, he stayed with her, pulling the comforter and top sheet over their heads, enclosing them in a warm cocoon of expensive cotton.

The air was heavy under the covers; that warm, stuffy feeling of airflow being cut off. Marie could see Logan as he leaned down to kiss her, his hands sliding down her body, stopping to fondle her breasts. Pulling away from her lips, he started kissing down her neck, stopping at the divot at the base of her throat to lick and nip. Moving down again, kissing all the while, he stopped at a breast, his tongue laving the taut flesh. When the nipple was warm and wet, he pulled his head back and blew on it. Marie reacted immediately, her skin pulling tighter, her hips shifting. She strained to see him in the darkness, her need for him overwhelming her. "Please," she entreated restlessly, pressing her body up to his, demanding that he resume his pleasurable torment.

Logan smiled as he felt her demanding hands, one on his back, the other moving between them to tease and torment his hard length with long strokes and soft touches. Continuing his moist torment, he moved to the other breast. He licked, then let his breath quickly dry her sensitized skin. One hand moved down her body to the curling brown hairs, a finger slipping inside the lips, then deeper. She moaned his name, legs curling around him, her hips thrusting up against him. His hand was locked between their bodies; her hands on his lower back, pressing him down, trying to draw him closer to her.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until her grip loosened. Logan took the window of opportunity to remove his fingers from deep inside, the Marie essence on his finger making it a simple thing to slide up her warm inner lips to stroke the swollen bud. He could feel Marie's hands sliding up and down his back, then up until her fingers were in his hair, pulling gently, then more strongly as he touched her. When he stopped his tender assault, she began to pet his hair, and he knew they both needed more. The heavy air under the covers was warm, their bodies sweating with heat and passion.

With a deep breath Logan removed his hand from her warmth, and slid up until they were face to face again, his heavy body a solid weight on hers, pressing down. The intense expression on his face in the dim shadows under the covers making her giggle with a mixture of frustration and passion.

He stopped her giggling with his lips, demanding that she open her mouth and stealing inside, devouring her sweet taste. She wasn't still, her legs moved around his to pull him close, her feet curling up to press against his ass, her hands touching him, the feeling of his thick muscles under smooth skin, the hair on his chest brushing against her sensitive breasts making her giddy. Breaking off the kiss, he pulled back and Marie, with her legs tight around his hips, came off the bed with him.

Thrusting down gently, he made sure she could feel his unprotected hardness on her bare skin. Firmly pressing against her, he watched as her eyes opened, and he smiled as a look of annoyance moved over her features. She let him go, uncurling her legs from around him so he could sit up on his knees. She watched as he ripped open the foil packet, her annoyance turning to merriment at his expression as he removed a dayglo orange condom. As he rolled it on, he heard a giggle and looked down to see brown eyes glinting with humor in their dark haven.

"Think you're cute, do you?"

She nodded and he fell upon her, tickling until he could smell tears.

"Sorry?"

"No."

"Me neither, baby, for anything." Her eyes were huge as she pulled him down to her.

This time it wasn't a tickle, it was a kiss, and when he raised his head, her eyes were still sparkling. He settled in, and lowered himself down, slowly, ever so slowly onto her. She spread her legs wider, and he continued his downward motion, finally, the head of his bright orange covered hardness penetrated the mouth of her wet center. They groaned at the blissful sensation, then again when he thrust deep and true, inside her to the hilt at last. He was cocooned with her under the covers, and sheathed deep inside her, both places feeling warm and safe.

Marie wrapped her legs around him, her hands moving to his firm rear as he began to move, the friction creating a joyous bubble inside her. His lips were at her neck, then her ear, but she needed more. Her hands left his butt and slid up his back; her nails raking his skin, she finally reached that soft hair and pulling not so gently, she guided his lips to hers. The feel of his whiskers, the taste of his tongue on hers, the texture of all those became secondary to the motion down below as Logan angled up, pressing just right to excite her more. She responded by flexing her inner muscles tightly around his manhood as it plunged deep once again.

"Just like that, baby," Logan encouraged her, knowing this wasn't going to last long, the adrenaline and stress of the day making them both needy and anxious. Marie was tight and wet and he slid deep over and over, each thrust now hitting home, each withdrawal pulling against muscles intent on holding him deep. His head was resting on the crook of her shoulder, his hands on either side of her head as he strove to keep his balance so they could reach climax together.

When it happened, it happened deep. She began to quiver, and he could feel it move from the inside out, taking him with. Under the covers in a strange bed, in that dark stuffy place with the scent of their lovemaking floating around them on humid air, they found the pinnacle together, both praying it wasn't for the last time.

---

In a room down the hall, two people watched the Laura Ashley comforter as it moved up and down, then went rigid. A minute later it visibly collapsed.

"What do you think, Christy? Will you be able to control him until he finishes it?" Erik Lehnsherr asked the young woman seated in the chair next to him.

"I think so, Erik," the young blonde answered, her eyes still on the monitor. "I can feel his emotions strongly from here, which means he's on edge and I should be able to control him a bit easier. But you should probably use the drug anyway, just in case."

Erik sighed. It was hard to get good help these days. Christy knew Wolverine, had worked with him for a few years. She would serve his purpose; better able to control Wolverine a bit better than a telepath just off the street.

He turned away from her and the screen showing the bedroom down the hall; his attention focused to the computer screen in front of him. The display was of his Caiman Islands account, now swollen with the riches paying for tonight's little drama.

Five million dollars. He didn't particularly like doing business with this particular group of investors, but the basic truth was beggars don't have the latitude to be choosers. And if Ironhard Brothers Studios was to survive, his only choice was to choose to take that money and make this film.

Two mutants, killing each other in a double snuff film. Wolverine would stab Rogue, she would absorb him, and Erik would make sure Wolverine's claws stabbed her one last time, when Wolverine wouldn't have any healing power left to give her. Two birds in one film.

It would be more distasteful then having Raven play the girl, but his investors wanted authenticity. And he had no doubts that his investors would check to make sure the stars had finished their roles as promised. So yes, it was distasteful, but this was survival, and Erik was determined to be the fittest.

---

Marie had no idea how long it had been when she finally woke up. She ran her hands down the warm skin of Logan's back, a bit sticky from their exertions. She massaged the skin, just happy to have him close. But his weight, the pounds added by the adamantium, soon became too much. "Logan, can you lift off a little bit?"

He snuffled tiredly, not responding. Burying his head deeper into the curve of her shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her, and still under the covers, fell back and pulled her atop him. She cuddled closer, relaxing in those precious minutes of touching and comfort.

Logan stretched under her, muscles rippling, his arms pulling her tighter. Massaging her back, he kissed her temple. "How do you feel?"

She rubbed her cheek against the hair on his chest. "Now I'm feeling a little sore."

"Hmm." He considered this.

Making a decision, Logan started to get up, keeping her in his arms. Shifting her weight to one arm, he pulled the comforter off the bed. Giving her one side of it to hold, he pulled it around them. Effectively covered, Logan headed to the bathroom. He let her go after closing the door, letting her slide down his body, holding her until he was sure her legs were steady. He removed the obnoxiously orange condom, ignoring her giggle as he threw it in the trash can. She was still wrapped in the comforter as he started the water in the huge clawfooted bathtub, taking a tiny bottle of body wash from the counter and upending it into the quickly filling tub.

Understanding what he was up to, Marie opened the closet and took out two huge towels, tossing them onto the closed lid of the toilet. Seeing two green three wick pillar candles and a box of matches, she considered a moment before taking them out. Putting one candle on the table next to the tub, she placed the other on the counter, and lit all of the wicks. The scent of evergreen filled the room as the candles burned, easily overpowering the weak scent of the body wash. Nodding to Logan, who got into the water and bubble filled tub, Marie flicked off the light switch, the bathroom of their prison now lit only by the two candles.

"Nice of them to leave us all the romantic stuff," Marie joked weakly as she climbed into the huge tub, closing the white and yellow flowered shower curtain. She sat, settling herself in front of him. Leaning back, she let the warm water soothe her as his arms came around her.

"Mood stuff. Erik probably uses it to make blackmail videos," Logan said softly.

"Never thought of you as a bubble bath guy," Marie teased as she pushed the weak smelling but plentiful bubbles around the surface.

His hands were running over her as she relaxed between his legs. "Makes it harder for anyone who wants to see something to see anything," Logan said as his fingers started to play between her legs. The motion wasn't as much arousing as it was soothing, and he could feel her muscles relaxing.

Marie nodded and gave herself over to the feeling of warm water and Logan's hands massaging her intimately, falling into a daze of comfort. Their enclosed space was dark, the candles on the other side of the curtain providing little in the way of light.

"Marie?"

She startled slightly at the sound of his voice, wondering how long she had been dozing. Couldn't have been too long, the water was still on the pleasant side of lukewarm.

"Hmmm?"

"If I come back, after they take me," he paused, and Marie could feel him tense. He started again. "If I come back after they take me, don't believe anything I say unless I can tell you the safe word, okay?"

Marie started to sit up, but he gently pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her. "Yes," she leaned back against him, snuggling deep into his wet embrace, bubbles and water lapping precariously close to the rim of the tub. "I understand."

He kissed her temple. "Good girl," he whispered and she could feel his leg move against hers. His used his toes to push the drain toggle down and the water started to drain out of the tub.

Logan prodded her to stand, and grabbing the handset, rinsed them off. Opening the curtain, he grabbed the little bottle of shampoo from the counter and poured a little into his hands, putting the little bottle on the wire rack when he was done. Turning her to face away from him, he started to lather her long hair, the sensual touch causing her to moan softly. Rising her hair, he smiled as she turned back to him and before reaching for the little bottle and motioned him to lean down. She massaged the shampoo in, then taking the handset, rinsed it out.

Logan put the handset back in its holder, letting the water pour down onto them. Marie moved into his arms and he held her tightly. Giving her one last kiss, Logan turned the water off and reached between the curtains to grab one of the big towels. He wrapped her up and grabbed the other towel, rubbing himself dry. Making sure she was wrapped in her towel, he tied his around his hips.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she smiled bravely. "We'll do this, then go home."

Logan nodded in agreement. Opening the curtain, they stepped out of the tub into the shadowed and steamy bathroom. When they were back in the bedroom Logan looked into the heavy mahogany armoire against the wall and pulled out two blue silk robes. Dropping his towel, he shrugged one on, then moved over to Marie, enfolding her in it before she dropped her own towel. Pulling the belt tight, her eyes flew up as the door to their luxury prison slammed against the wall.

Vic stood there, looking menacing. The large man threw his head back and inhaled deeply, the obscene message loud and clear. "Sweet piece you have there, runt. Could make a fortune selling her, or just make one good movie with her..." he let the evil idea sink in. He threw what looked to be a deliveryman's uniform on the bed. "Costume," he grunted. Logan rolled his eyes.

Raven followed Vic in and placed a tray with some sandwiches and a couple cans of soda on the desk. "Eat up. We start prep soon, Logan."

Moving over to the desk Marie grabbed a sandwich and sniffed it; then shrugged. Logan did the same and they started to eat, both hungry after the last twenty-four hours. When the plate of sandwiches was empty Marie watched as Logan put on the brown uniform. Returning to the bed, he wrapped her in his arms, Marie resting her head on his shoulder.

They had been sitting like that for a while when Logan spoke again. "I want you to sit tight, okay? If Raven or Vic show up, don't go with them unless they give you no choice."

"Yes, I can just see them asking politely."

"Okay, stupid thing to say."

"Yep."

Taking the tags from around his neck, Logan put them into her palm, curling her fingers around them. "I'll be back for these," he said, relieved when she gave him a brave smile, putting the chain around her neck, letting the tag fall between her breasts.

They were still sitting on the bed an hour later when Logan suddenly sat up and shifted Marie off his lap.

"What?" She said, waking from her semi doze.

'They're coming back," he said unnecessarily, as the door opened and Vic lumbered in.

"Time to go, runt." Vic growled.

Logan squeezed her hand and silently preceded Vic out the door. Raven was waiting outside the room and led him down the hall; Vic following close enough behind that his body odor all but caused Logan's eyes tear up. Raven stopped at a room and opened the door. Mortimer Toyenbee was inside, sitting in a chair trying to stare down the front of the shirt of a blonde sitting next to him at the table.

Logan had detected her scent her when the door opened, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. He should have known though, Christy was one of those you knew would always land on her feet. She spun dramatically in her chair, turning to face him, trying and failing miserably to show concern. "Wolverine! I was so..."

Logan walked past her, avoiding her hands as they tried to settle on his shoulders. He sat down in the chair across from Mortimer, or Toad, as he was better known.

Toad's greenish teeth tried to flash in the lights of the room and failed, so he settled for a sneer. "Ahh, so this is my leading man. I was glad that Erik could keep you here until I could get here."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, right, Toady. You're always just a hop, skip, and a jump away, aren't you?"

An extraordinarily long tongue whipped across the table, slapping Logan in the face, then retreating. "Shut up!" Toad said once he had his tongue back in his mouth.

Logan's eyes glinted angrily, but he remained silent. Christy handed him a can of beer with a smile and he opened it automatically, slugging the lukewarm brew down angrily and wishing he could get drunk. He watched as Raven and Vic left the room, leaving him alone with Toad and Christy.

It was about five minutes later that his head began to pound and he waited for his mutation to kick in, for the pain to stop. But it didn't. As Christy sat next to him and looked into his eyes, he realized what had happened.

He'd been drugged. His mind searched sluggishly to find remember how it could have been done. The sandwiches hadn't been tampered with...

The beer.

In a can.

Erik. Magneto. Metal. Cans. Fuck.

"Damn it, Christy. How much did you give him?" Logan heard Toad's voice in the distance and watched as Christy gave the little man a nasty glare.

"Just enough, you idiot. He's not the easiest person to medicate, you know." Christy snapped back, her voice seeming far away.

Logan slumped onto the table as the drugs kicked in.

---

Logan had been gone less than fifteen minutes when Raven came back to the bedroom-prison, finding Marie still sitting on the bed. Raven surveyed the room, not saying a word about the clothes Marie had appropriated from the armoire: a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. The jeans were women's and only a size too big. The shirt was male and definitely too big, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the hem falling to her knees.

"Erik would like to speak with you," Raven said, her yellow eyes shining malevolently.

Marie stared at her for a minute, but decided that she really had no choice. Getting off the bed, she slipped her feet into the pair of slippers she had found with the rest of the clothes in the armoire. "All right."

Raven led the way down the hall to a large room; the high ceilings and walls were made of metal. There was a desk in the center of the room, also made of metal. Raven perched on a table to the side of the desk while Marie sat in an uncomfortably hard metal chair. Marie ignored the blue woman's presence, focusing instead on five small metal balls hung in the air over desk.

"Mystique, so good of you to bring our young friend. But really, you should have offered her some refreshment," Erik said as he walked into the room.

At the name, Marie turned and raised an eyebrow at the Feminine Mystique. She said nothing, letting the sardonic twist of her lips say it for her. Raven shrugged and left the room.

One of the metal balls separated from its fellows and hit the remaining four, starting them moving from side to side, the constant tapping sound reverberating around the metal room. Erik moved around the desk and sat behind it, steepling his fingers and staring at Marie.

"What do you want with me?" Marie asked.

"You are an important part of tonight's events, my dear." Erik shifted his attention to Raven, who had re-entered the room with three cans of soda on a tray and some cookies. Marie refused the cookies but took a can automatically, opening it and taking a sip. She watched as Erik did the same, looking incongruous drinking from the can of Coke. He set the can down on the desk with a metallic ring and looked over at Raven, who had returned to her post on the table. "You have seen enough?"

Marie turned to look at the other woman, who smiled at her, then started to shift, her skin becoming pink, her hair and eyes becoming brown. She seemed to grow a bit shorter, her bust becoming more pronounced. It took only a few seconds and Marie was staring at a reflection of herself.

"That's sick," Marie spat, giving her clone a hate-filled look.

"It will give Wolverine a bit of familiarity with his co-star," Erik replied, getting out of his chair and coming around to sit on the edge of the desk.

Marie started to respond, but felt an overwhelming need to close her eyes instead. She breathed slowly, and opening her eyes, tried to keep her balance. She failed. Starting to fall off the chair, she was surprised when Erik grabbed her and pulled her up. One bare hand took hers as he pushed her upright. A dizzy, buzzing feeling in her brain, her control slipped.

Erik went rigid as the pull started. It was slow, but Marie could feel Erik flood into her mind, even as she saw Raven pull him from her. It was odd, seeing herself glaring at her, hearing her voice yell for Vic, even as she watched her reflection revert back to blue skin and yellow eyes.

Marie turned her concentration inward, trying to calm the Erik now in her head. She felt his sense of desperation and his resolve to take care of his problem. She knew, in that moment, what he was planning for her and Logan.

Raven was yelling at Vic to take the girl back to her room, but to cover her first. The shape shifter glared at the little bitch, settling Erik back into his chair behind the desk. To her relief, Erik was breathing normally again, waving her away.

"Don't worry, my dear," Erik said to Marie, slowly, deliberately. "It won't hurt that much."

Marie stared at him, not paying attention to Raven; or to Vic, who had just lumbered back into the room. "You're going to kill me, aren't you." It wasn't a question, only a statement of bare fact.

"Yes." Erik replied calmly, without hesitation.

Marie could only nod dully as Vic covered her in a sheet and picked her up, his shoulder slamming into her chest as he lifted her into a brutal fireman's carry.

She could hear Erik speaking as Vic headed out the door. "Take her to back to the room and get her into her costume, Mystique."

The trip back down the hall was uncomfortable and being thrown back down onto the bed wasn't much better than it had been the first time. The sheet was removed and she watched as Raven walked in with an arm full of white and pastel fabrics. The naked blue skinned woman pulled on a pair of latex gloves as she approached the bed. She roughly pulled off Marie's shirt and jeans; leaving her naked, Logan's tags twisting around her neck. Marie shivered in revulsion as her eyes met Vic's just before a white silk negligee was pulled over her head by the cruel latex covered blue hands. The cruel hands pulled her off the bed and pulled the white fabric down from where it bunched around her hips. Raven then pushed her into the chair by the bed where she sat, the drug making her body heavy and complacent, her mind occupied with fighting the little of Erik's that had gotten in.

"Watch her." Raven snapped to Vic as she left the room.

Vic moved over to sit on the bed, staring at her. She was expecting it, but she still shuddered in revulsion when he moved nearer, his foul stench surrounding her. His dark eyes stared into hers as he drew one heavily nailed finger over her silk covered breasts. The nail moved into her hair, running down the side of her face, almost cutting her skin. "Scream for me," he growled menacingly.

"Vic, knock it off." Raven said, returning to the room holding a long blonde wig. She pinned Marie's hair up and pulled the wig on, combing it out roughly.

Vic sat on the bed, watching this. He growled low as Raven left Marie, and extending one long arm, pulled Raven into his arms. "Wanna fuck her."

Raven sighed. "You can't have her. But," she stopped, and once again becoming a facsimile of Marie. "You can fuck me," she said in Marie's voice. Pulling out of his arms she went over to the pile of silks she had brought in earlier. Picking out a light pink one, she pulled it over her head. Holding her hands to her breasts she wrung her hands. "Oh, please, mean sir, don't hurt me," Raven-Marie simpered.

Marie stared at them in disbelief, her eyes growing wider as Vic strode over to Raven-Marie and picked her up, throwing her roughly on the bed. Apparently Vic didn't believe in foreplay, because he simply ripped open the negligee, then undid the zipper of his pants. His back was to Marie, but she got the idea quickly when he thrust forward and Raven-Marie screamed.

Marie closed her eyes, wishing she could close her ears too as they rutted, screaming and grunting. Marie tried desperately to ignore Raven-Marie encouraging Vic to go 'harder, deeper, fuck me, you bastard', while Vic stuck to grunting and the words 'fuck and bitch'. She cringed, the memory of making love to Logan in that same bed just hours before making the nightmare before her even more obscene. The headboard of the bed was slamming against the wall in a crazed rhythm, and Marie just kept praying for it to end. It seemed like hours, days, simply forever, but finally they were done, a final cursing scream coming from them both.

Hearing them move, Marie opened her eyes, regretting it immediately when she saw Raven-Marie's bloody neck, deep teeth marks visible on the pale skin. The negligee was torn and bloody. Vic was zipping up his pants, his own blood flowing from nail marks on his neck.

Logan was right. These people were sick.

Marie closed her eyes again and shook as Sabretooth's hot, fetid breath flowed over her face, the nail tracing her eyebrows and lips. "Too bad, frail. You're tasty," he snarled. She could hear him leave the room, the door slamming closed. She opened her eyes. Raven-Marie was still sitting on the bed in the torn negligee, cuts and bruises on all the visible skin, staring at her with a satisfied gleam in the unreal brown eyes. Marie shuddered and Raven-Marie smiled, transforming back into her natural state, the cuts healing up as she did so.

Pulling the tattered negligee over her head, she grabbed a new white one, a twin to the one Marie was wearing and put it on. Pulling the gloves back on, she shifted again, back into Marie; but her hair was blonde, just like the wig Marie wore. A chain with a replica of Logan's tags grew around her neck. Leaning down she whispered, "Be a good little girl. I'm going to fuck your boyfriend now. Then he can kill you." Laughing, Raven-Marie left the room, the door locking loudly behind her.

A single, angry tear rolled down Marie's cheek as the drugs kicked into full effect, stealing her ability to think.

---

Mortimer Toynebee was pissed off. Nothing was going right today. His star was stoned. Even Christy's sterling efforts had proven only semi-successful; Wolverine couldn't keep an erection for more than a few minutes. He had finally regained consciousness about an hour ago, and they had been shooting for the last fifteen minutes. The drugs were supposed to keep him docile, but Mortimer had the feeling they had only served to piss him off. Now if he had been in Christy's mouth, he would have been shooting for the stars. He should have never trusted the telepath to administer the drug; he should have insisted that he or Raven do it. He just knew that Christy had given him too much. They were finally ready to shoot the major scenes, the sex and the snuff.

Looking over his shoulder, Mortimer could see that Raven had arrived. Wolverine's eyes grew huge at the sight of Raven, looking young, pretty, and blonde. There was, Toad thought, something utterly creepy about Mystique looking sweet and innocent. Apparently, Wolverine thought so too. His star stopped for a moment, then seemed to collect himself. Rushing to make the scene, Mortimer had Logan, as the 'the deliveryguy', ring the bell. Raven answered, striking a seductive pose in the doorway, her white silk negligee shimmering under the lights. If pressed, Mortimer would have admitted, there wasn't much dialogue or plot to this wonder. It was pretty much a wash, artistically speaking.

Logan had been stunned to see Raven, or more precisely, whom Raven was looking like. He should have known that they would be capable of this. He could tell by scent that it was Raven, not Marie, and she was covered in the stench of Vic. He closed his eyes for a moment, just trying to sell himself the fantasy, that it was Marie, not Raven. If he could do this, they might have a chance.

Toad continued filming as Wolverine picked up and carried Mystique, as directed, to the 'bedroom' part of the set. Wolverine threw her down on the bed and tore off the silk gown. Raven reached up and pulled off the shirt of his uniform, baring all those wonderful muscles to the camera. Mortimer pushed the camera in for a close up when Raven roughly pushed Wolverine's pants off. Thank god, his star was hard.

Pushing his revulsion aside, Wolverine thrust into Raven, growling at her when she started to talk dirty to him in Marie's sweet drawl. He closed his eyes and thought of back in his camper, hoping the memory would work its magic. Next, he began to plan his revenge, the thought making him smile tightly. Once he got Marie back to the mansion, he would come back and gut them all. He liked the idea. Vic first, then Erik, Raven, and Toady last. He'd hang the little frog by his tongue. He continued thrusting, and looking up, saw Toad standing next to the camera, making what seemed to be machine gun motions. He pulled out of Raven and ejaculated over her breasts, in traditional bad porn style. Toad really had no vision at all.

Falling on top of her, he laughed soundlessly, feeling slimy in more ways than one. Maybe he could at least crush Raven a little bit. He pressed down on her, as hard as he could, keeping up the pressure even after he heard Toady yell, "Cut!" Wolverine smiled down at Raven as she struggled; a second later he growled as he was pulled off her and thrown across the room as Vic came to her rescue.

Toad followed his own lines in this production within a production to the letter. "Wolverine, you just stay here. Raven, go get cleaned up. We'll shoot the gazebo scene as soon as you're ready." He relaxed as Wolverine pulled the pants and shirt back on and settled into a chair, his back to the gazebo set. Erik sat down next to him, trying to goad him into a conversation, but Wolverine ignored him. Raven wandered out the door, heading down to get the 'stunt double'. Looking up, Mortimer saw Christy standing in the window that led to the editing room. She nodded down to him, giving him a thumb's up.

She was in Wolverine's head. Mortimer hoped the plan would work, that the drugs had broken Wolverine's defenses enough for Christy to control long enough for him to get good shots of the snuff. Keeping careful watch, Toad saw Raven return, in the form of Wolverine, leading the drugged girl into the room. He turned back to check Wolverine's reaction. There was none; his star's back remained to the pair, unconcerned. Good, he hadn't scented or sensed her. Toad felt his mood lighten. This might just work.

Raven-Wolverine led Marie to the white latticed gazebo that sat in front of a giant blue screen. Taking her hand, 'he' brought her over to the side of the gazebo that faced away from the rest of the room.

"Now, baby, do you remember what I told you?"

"Hmmm?" Marie looked around the room, still feeling foggy. She knew there was something she needed to ask Logan, but she just couldn't remember what it was.

"That's right," 'he' said. "Just stay here, don't turn around. And when I come to you again, I want you to just stand still, okay, baby?"

"Mmmmhmmmm," Marie said, swaying slightly.

"Good Girl." Leaving Marie in the gazebo, Raven left the room, nodding to Toad on her way out.

Toad waited until she was clear of the room, then turned to his star. "Wolverine, it's time for the final scene..."

---

Christy and Victor were up in the editing room that looked down into the ballroom. Erik didn't want them downstairs while the filming was going on. Victor, because he might distract Logan, Christy because Erik didn't want her distracted. They were watching a live feed from the studio on a small monitor.

Vic watched as Toady brought Wolverine to stand behind his little piece. The knowledge that they would both die had excitement coursing through him, pooling in his loins. He would have to fuck Raven again after they were done getting rid of the bodies. The little girl looked tasty, even if it was only Raven. He could stop breathing through his nose and pretend again. His claws made such nice furrows in that creamy white flesh. Vic turned to his right and watched Christy, swaying a bit in her chair, her face sweaty. He didn't like telepaths on instinct, and even this one wasn't changing his mind. He hoped Erik would let him get rid of her when this was done. Turning up the mic feeds from the studio he watched as Wolverine wrapped his arms around the frail, protected from her skin by the white gown.

Christy was working hard, and Victor was sitting next to her stroking himself through his pants wasn't making concentrating any easier. From the camera down below she could see Wolverine, his arms around the woman she was making sure he thought was Raven.

He was saying the lines. "You think you can just play with me? I'll show you!" With that, the claws came out.

Christy concentrated intently; she couldn't let him figure out he was about to slice up his actual lover. Just a few more minutes and this would be over, and she would get her job and her money...

Victor smiled evilly, moving his huge head closer to the little screen. Finally. The good part. His attention was captivated by the promise of bloodshed. But Logan was just standing there. Vic could see his back was arched and the claws were out. What the fuck was the runt waiting for?

---

Logan's arms were around Raven, and she was swaying gently, moving back and forth slowly. Which was strange. He tried to think out why she would be acting like this; she should by all rights be fighting with him. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't need to wonder about any of this, and deciding it was time to get this over with, he extended the claws.

---

Marie was tired and still feeling a bit woozy. Closing her eyes, she looked inward and tried to call on the last remaining control over Logan's healing powers. Gaining a boost of energy, she took hold of that inner Loganness and started to focus, trying to neutralize the drug in her system. She was amused by the thought of his reaction if she told him he was good for prolonged sex and hangover relief.

Her mind started to clear just as she realized Logan was behind her; a flash of light reflecting off his claws. She felt the Erik presence in her mind start to twinge, the survival instinct of all three personalities starting to kick in.

---

Erik was standing in front of Wolverine and Rogue, just to the right of Mortimer and the camera, waiting for the climax. Erik made sure that he could take over control of the adamantium claws, he didn't want to lose the scene just because Wolverine noticed he was about to stab his girlfriend. He trusted Christy not to screw up, but he didn't trust her enough to not have a backup plan. He sighed in relief when the claws shot out, and Wolverine's back arched, and his arms raised, ready to slice down, to start the snuff. Maybe he wouldn't have to step in after all.

Then everything went to hell.

A section of the ballroom wall exploded inward, a thin red beam of light cutting through anything in its path, the beam going straight through the room and cutting through the opposite wall, showing no sign of stopping. Erik was in shock as he looked dumbly at the ruination of his studio.

---

Christy shrieked when the blast echoed through the ballroom and up into the editing room where she and Vic were sitting. She felt her control over Logan's mind slip. Then she felt another, more powerful mind take hers and twist. Screaming again, she fainted, blood pouring from her nose.

---

Logan barely managed to stop his arms from completing the downward arc. He felt that questioning instinct return to his head, what's more, he could smell that the woman in front of him was Marie, not Raven.

His Marie.

Staring at Erik he growled, feral and deep, hatred flowing into his veins, countermanding all drugs and controls. He was going to kill them all.

Marie turned in his arms and looked at him, claws out, arms outstretched. She must have sensed something, even through her fog. Looking more closely he saw her eyes were clear, even as she trembled slightly.

"Logan?"

"It's me, darlin'."

"Oh." She looked at him carefully, then looked at the claws. "Hmm." She drew herself up with remarkable dignity and placing her hands on her hips, leaned into him. "What's the safe word?"

"Poodles, baby, it's all you and your poodles."

Her face lit up. "Logan, it is you!"

His grin was cut short as his arms started to move, the blades starting to move toward Marie again.

Magneto.

Fuck.

---

Erik ordered Mortimer to keep filming, and watching Wolverine and the girl, summoned his control over the metal in Wolverine's body, specifically his arms. He would get the shot and finish the movie. He resigned himself to the fact it would just have to be a bit cruder than he had originally planned.

He put more energy into controlling the adamantium claws, watching in amusement as Wolverine tried to fight back. Forcing the adamantium coated arms outward again he started to bring them down, toward the girl, who was wedged between Wolverine and the railing of the gazebo.

Just as he began to force the arms down to finish snuffing the girl, they stopped. Erik frowned, his control faltering. What the hell was going on now?

---

Logan looked down at Marie, then behind her to see Magneto looking pissed off. Looking back down at her, it clicked.

"He touched you, didn't he?"

"Yes," Marie gasped, trying to fight Erik's control of the claw wielding arms.

Logan grimaced at the pain as his adamantium-enhanced bones were caught in a life or death tug of war; it hurt like all hell. Logan snarled in Erik's direction; Marie wouldn't be able to keep this up.

"Touch me again, darlin'," he whispered.

She looked up at him, and her control over Erik's power slipped slightly. Logan's arms fell slightly, the blades moving closer to her neck. She knew he was right, she had to have something to fight with. They both sighed as her bare hand lightly touched his face.

Logan felt the pull start, the warm water feeling. He stumbled backwards, weakening, the claws attempting to withdraw. When the claws wouldn't retract he cursed in frustration. Erik still had control.

---

Erik was tired of these games. He started to assert control over Wolverine's whole skeleton, forcing him back toward the girl.

"Erik?"

"Not now, Mortimer!"

"I don't think they're going to wait, Erik."

Looking up, Erik saw a red-headed woman staring at him through the editing room window. He watched in surprise as she moved back and a man in a black leather uniform, entangled with Victor, hurdled through the window. Glass flew everywhere as the two men crashed onto the ballroom floor.

Erik felt a thrill of retribution as Christy appeared behind the woman, but it was quickly routed when the redhead turned and delivered a roundhouse swing to Christy's jaw. A noise behind him drew his attention, as a large blue man in the same type of uniform crashed through the blue screen, leaving a huge hole.

"Mortimer, deal with him!" Erik bellowed, not paying attention to Toad's incredulous look. The little man obeyed though; his long, prehensile tongue shooting out to wrap around the blue man's throat.

Enough of these distractions, Erik decided, watching the uniformed man blow Victor across the room with a beam of red light. Turning back to Wolverine, whom he had kept motionless, Erik started him on a forced march, making him walk the few steps toward the girl.

---

The room was a cacophony of light and noise.

Hank McCoy was pulling on Toad's tongue, finally getting it unwrapped from around his neck. He pulled Toad by the tongue, wrapping him like a roped calf, throwing him into a wall, dropping him for the count. Ororo Xavier was out in the hall with Raven, engaging in some pretty basic fisticuffs. The weather goddess stood back and summoned a strong wind, blowing Raven into a wall. Scott Summers managed one last beam with his visor before Victor knocked him out with a small table. Charles had just wheeled into the room when Erik spotted him.

Seeing his hated business rival, Erik diverted his power, releasing Wolverine to send a large wheel mounted camera flying in Xavier's direction. It stopped less than a foot from Xavier's head, wavering as the forces of telekinesis fought with the power of magnetism.

Free of Erik's control, Logan saw Vic approaching them. Leaving the claws extended, he jumped off the gazebo onto the larger man. He slammed into Vic at full speed, the claws striking deep in the huge man's chest. They flew across the room, claws and muscles straining at each other.

Marie watched as Erik continued to move the camera closer to Charlie. Drawing on her control over her inner Erik's powers, she brought the camera he was standing next to down on top of him, knowing he was unconscious when the camera hovering in front of Charlie fell to the ground with a crash. Spinning to look at another crashing noise, Marie saw Raven slam into Ororo, sending her flying. Summoning the last of Erik's abilities, she lifted the camera he had been trying to kill Charlie with, using it as a battering ram against Raven. She exchanged a relieved look with 'Ro when the blue skinned woman did not get up again.

Turning, Marie saw Logan slash at Vic with his claws; the cuts not fazing the enraged Sabretooth as he pushed Logan backward through the room. Logan smiled as a blow hit all the way home, his knuckles brushing against Vic's gut. She winced as the taller man hit Logan again and again; Logan not being able to move away, his claws stuck in Vic's chest. Marie breathed again as Vic went flying through the walls of the living room set, a red beam of light propelling him backward, away from Logan. The table he had hit Scott with stopped Vic's fall, impaling him though the shoulder and the abdomen. She winced at the sight, but could feel no sympathy as the big man writhed in pain.

Giving in to the urge to sit down, she did, falling heavily to the floor of the gazebo. She looked up as Logan's strong legs, still wrapped in the brown of his costume, walked up to her. "Don't touch me!" Marie cried.

"It'll be okay, darlin'."

"I don't have control right now," she said, shifting away from him, wriggling backwards.

"It'll be okay, darlin'." She didn't look up, didn't see 'Ro toss Logan a pair of gloves.

Closing her eyes, Marie leaned against the white lattice of the gazebo, slowly giving into the exhaustion calling her.

"Gonna pick you up, okay, Marie? Don't worry."

And he did.

And she didn't.

---

Logan held Marie in his arms and looked around the room. Vic was barely breathing; which was too much breathing for him in Logan's book. Scott staggered over to where Logan stood, looking like he had gone twelve rounds with something nasty. Staring at the gore covered Vic he had to agree; yeah, that was nasty.

"She okay?" Scott asked, nursing a bruise on the side of his cheek, just below the visor.

"Yeah, they drugged her, made her lose her control, and tried to kill her, but she should be okay," Logan bit out tightly.

"I believe it would be an intelligent, and precipitate action if we were to leave this place immediately," Hank said, holding his hand over a cut that had made it through his fur.

They could hear sirens in the distance, obviously heading toward the house. Logan pointed to the cameras and Jean nodded, taking the tapes from them; Ororo joined them holding a bag with more tapes. As one they started toward the hole in the wall. Once outside the building Logan saw the Blackbird in the distance, a few minutes walk away. Halfway to the jet, Charlie stopped and touched his forehead, the rest stopping to look at him expectantly.

"The lead investigator will know where to look to find enough evidence against them all," he said calmly, starting again toward the jet.

Inside the Blackbird, Logan fell into a seat; Marie still held tightly in his arms. Scott and 'Ro got into the pilots seats and started to warm up the engines. They were in the air quickly. Logan relaxed against the leather seat, absently rubbing his cheek against Marie's hair. Frowning, he pulled off the blonde wig. A white streak marred the dark waves. Logan ran his gloved fingers through the bright strands. He looked up to see Jean's brown eyes, her concern obvious, as she reached down to take Marie's pulse.

"Why?" He asked her, holding up some of the strands.

Finished taking Marie's pulse, Jean leaned back, removing the latex gloves. "Shock, most likely." Assured that Rogue would be okay once the exhaustion and drugs wore off, and accepting Logan's refusal of medical attention, Jean went to help Hank bandage his arm.

Logan continued to touch Marie gently, whispering in a hair-covered ear that she was safe, that he would take care of her, that he was sorry. He was rewarded in a few minutes by a brown eye opening, looking up at him.

"Logan?"

"Hey, darlin'. How you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Yeah, you just rest, okay?"

The eye closed, then opened again. "Okay," she said, snuggling into his embrace.

"How did you find us?" Logan directed the question to Charlie who had unlocked his wheelchair from the safety harness to wheel over to where he sat with Marie.

"When Rogue called the house, and the phone went dead, Jean started to worry. When we tried to call back there was no answer. We called the phone company, they could not locate the signal either. So we put in a call to GPS about Rogue's car. The last place they had the signal was just on the Alberta - Saskatchewan border." His eyes became guarded. "We flew out and found the remains of your cars. Luckily, it must have stopped snowing soon after you were taken; the tracks around the wrecks were easily identified. Victor Creed is a rather distinctive fellow." He raised an eyebrow at them. "I must say, we were surprised to find the two of you traveling together. The next step was tracing..." He stopped as Marie lifted her head from Logan's shoulder to stare at him.

"Cars? You found the remains of the cars?" Marie croaked, turning shocked eyes on Xavier.

"Yes. Wolverine's truck had been destroyed in an explosion. It was the fire that, unfortunately, had left your car in much the same condition, I'm afraid to say, Rogue."

"The fire?" Marie echoed weakly as Logan stroked one silk clad arm gently.

Hank picked up the story, looking at them over Jean's shoulder as she put a bandage on his furry blue arm. "Yes, it looked like someone had poured gasoline over the interior of your vehicle and set it ablaze."

Marie whimpered and Logan pulled her closer. "Those sons of bitches torched Sven?" she muttered angrily, fury bathing her cheeks in red.

Logan grinned over her head at Jean, who returned his relieved smile. Anger was a good sign; Rogue would be bouncing back. Really looking at Jean for the first time, it finally penetrated that she was dressed in black leather. Logan looked around the plane. Hank, Jean, Scott, 'Ro, even Xavier... they were all wearing black leather. He tried to place which... oh yes, the costumes that had been rejected as not revealing or tight enough for 'Raw Hide Lust'.

He snorted. "I can't believe you guys went outside in those things," Logan said, earning a glare from everyone but Marie, who looked at him in confusion.

"What, you would have preferred the yellow spandex from 'The Captain Hardon and Orgasma Chronicles'?" Scott inquired wryly.

Logan snickered and pressed Marie's head back to his shoulder when she lifted it to take a look around the plane. He relaxed into the plush leather; for the first time since before that night at bar in Laughlin City, he felt safe.

---

Seven Weeks Later

Marie and Jean were sitting on the bed in Marie and Logan's newly redecorated suite, Adam between them, playing adorably with his own feet. They were looking at color scheme books, trying to pick out bed linens while stopping to watch as Adam gurgled and cooed happily.

"No Laura Ashley, Jean. Seriously."

The redhead grimaced. "Yes, I can see where you'd want to avoid that. Well, this set looks good, and would be a good match for the walls," she said, waving her hand around the room, decorated in shades of deep amber and celadon.

Marie nodded, the colors would certainly match. She gazed around the room, a blend of both of Logan and herself, their books and personal items in the bookcases and on the tables, clothes hanging side by side in the closets. Logan's big TV sat across from the bed, Marie's DVDs in the case beneath. The fireplace hadn't been touched in the remodeling, but now interesting little curios adorned it, unlike its days of stark bareness when Logan had lived here alone.

"I never thought they'd be done so quickly," Marie confided.

Jean chuckled, putting the book aside to tickle the sole of her son's foot. "Never underestimate the impact of the words, 'If you think you can't do it yourself, we can always hire someone to do it all', on the male psyche. Not to mention the words 'if we only had a hot tub' uttered after sex," Jean stated cheerfully as Marie blushed.

"All right, all right, you were absolutely correct on that one," Marie admitted.

Looking down at her son, Jean's smile grew wider. " I know."

Marie relaxed against the headboard of the king-sized bed, watching Jean and Adam. So many things had changed since their rescue and return to the mansion. She hadn't quite known what to expect from Logan, but he had simply carried her from the landing pad to his room and put her to bed, crawling in behind her after pulling a sheet between them. He had whispered a promise to take care of her, smiling when she gave him the same promise. The next day they had started to move her things into his room until Ororo suggested they might want to redecorate. Instead, they moved Logan's things into her room while Logan and the guys smashed down walls to enlarge the suite. Rocco, a mutant plumber from Salem Center had been hired to redo the master bath. It had only taken four weeks for the construction to be finished and another two for them to have the major decorating done.

Marie sighed softly as she thought about Logan. He had accepted her inability to regain her control swiftly with his usual practicality. After her agonized confession of the problem he had simply shrugged it off, slit a hole in a sheet, rolled on a condom, and proceeded to make love to her all night. That was the first full night they had been back, and he seemed perfectly willing to do it that way until they didn't have to. As long as she slept in his arms, a sheet between them didn't seem to matter to him.

Marie blushed again as she emerged from her reverie to see Jean looking at her with a smile. "Sorry, I was just thinking..."

"About Logan." Jean finished for her.

That was another thing that had changed. Everyone knew their real names now, a gift offered freely to people who cared enough to fight for them.

Marie and Jean looked up as Logan stomped into the room. Seeing Jean, he growled low in his throat. Adam, who apparently shared his mother's opinion of Logan, giggled. Jean just looked amused, but knowing retreat was in order, started to gather up her son's paraphernalia from the bed, putting it into the diaper bag.

"What?" Jean asked, grinning at Logan who started to unbutton his shirt, which was covered in motor oil.

"Go talk to Scott," he bit out.

"Come on, give me a hint," Jean entreated as she gathered up Adam's blankie, putting it in the diaper bag.

"He wants to dress up in leather and go play super hero!" Logan roared in horror. He glared at them apparently offended they didn't share his sense of outrage at the idea.

"Well, sugar, you do have to admit, they did save us..." Marie said, ducking her head to hide her smile as he stared her.

"We make adult porn movies for god's sake! Next you'll want to turn this place into an orphanage or a school for mutant foundlings," he growled sarcastically.

Jean snickered, and picking her son up, headed toward the door. "You didn't lock Scott in the trunk of the Ferrari again, did you, Logan?"

"No."

"Okay." Reassured, mother and son left the room.

"... not that I didn't think about it." Logan said to the closed door.

Marie watched as he stripped, tossing his clothes into the hamper specifically designated for 'Logan's Automotive Repair Clothes'. She frowned as the blue shirt she had bought him last week was tossed in the hamper, covered in dark black oil stains. Mentally she shrugged, writing it off.

"How does the truck look?" She asked, referring to the used truck and camper, bought a month ago and now installed in the garage next to her 'new' five year old Volvo. It would never be Sven, but Olga seemed to be a good car. She had worried that their cars would be hard to replace, but the insurance adjuster, after meeting Logan's sense of urgency and fairness, had capitulated nicely, giving them fair value on their vehicles.

"Looks good, got the camper on, got the brakes and the radiator taken care of."

"Didn't the dealership take care of that before we bought it?"

"Can't trust those guys, Marie." Logan finished stripping and headed to the shower, not seeing her roll her eyes at him.

Keeping an eye on his muscled buttocks as they disappeared into the bathroom, Marie sighed. Taking off the thin leather gloves she had been wearing, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She could feel it, the control. Her mind was attuned, the psions controlled. 'Ro had touched her after her session with Charlie, when they were down in the gardens. Nothing had happened, aside from the happy sniffling as 'Ro, Marie, and then Jean, had realized she had that precious control back. She smiled, thinking of Jean's raised eyebrow when she had slipped on a pair of gloves upon returning to her room, Jean and Adam in tow. Jean's blush had almost matched her skin to the auburn of her hair and Marie knew she must have been broadcasting her intentions full blast. She apologized, but Jean just grinned, thanking her for the ideas.

Throwing the gloves on the writing desk next to her computer, Marie removed the rest of her clothes, tossing them in the 'Non Logan's Automotive Repair Clothes' hamper. Hearing the water in the shower running, she headed toward the bathroom.

Logan had just lathered his hair up and was about to duck under the water to rinse when he heard the shower door opening. Knowing it had to be Marie, he didn't panic, but turned, eyes closed, into the spray to rinse the soap off. The feel of her bare hands on his back caused him to turn around, the shampoo suds running down his face as his eyes bulged open. He shut them immediately and started cursing, the soapy water continuing the insult by flowing into his open mouth, turning his curses into undignified gurgles.

"What the fugglled..."

Marie reached around him and took the second handset, moving to stand in front of him. Taking his flailing hands, she gently ran the warm water over his face, first over his tightly closed eyes, then over his mouth, the lips pursed closed to avoid any more soap. Turning him slightly, she left his back to the showerhead and told him to lean his head back. When his hair was clean, she held the handset up and told him to open his eyes. As the water ran down his back, she ran the water gently over his forehead, letting it rinse his eyes.

Logan shook his head and looked down at Marie, smiling at her small hand holding his larger ones. Leaning down, his lips sought hers, and for the first time in over a month they kissed with nothing in between. Her lips demanded entrance as she dropped the handset to wrap her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, his hands cupping under her soft bottom to pull her up, her legs going around his waist on instinct. The water made their skin slick, and her hands floated over his skin as she stroked his shoulders and down his back. When he broke the blissful contact with her lips, Logan was breathing heavily. Returning to her warm, wet flesh, he kissed down her neck while she continued to touch him, her fingers moving to play in his hair.

Her hands moved down his arms, skidding into the motor oil residue. Pulling away, she unclasped her legs and wiggled a bit to let him know she wanted him to put her down. He did, groaning as her bottom slid over his erection, going rigid as she regained her feet and his turgid manhood slid over the warm cleft between her thighs, the curly hairs brushing against his sensitive flesh.

They were in ecstasy, finally being able to touch skin to skin again exciting them beyond all reason. Reaching around him, making sure to rub her breasts against his chest, Marie pulled the shower mesh sponge off its plastic hook. Squirting a dollop of the manly liquid soap she bought for him, she kneaded the sponge until a thick lather was dripping from her hands. Taking one arm, she massaged the soap over him, sliding over his chest and down his other arm. Scrubbing gently, she moved to the flat washboard of his stomach, using circular motions to sensitize the skin as she washed him. She worked his nipples, cleaning them until his hips thrust forward, his engorged manhood pressing against her.

With a muttered oath he took the sponge from her and turned her around, pulling her into his arms. Holding her, his penis pressing firmly against her back, his smile was feral. One large hand used the sponge to caress her breasts while the other hand stole down her body and delved into her moist heat, strong fingers running up and down the inner lips as Marie moaned his name.

"More, Logan, more..."

Twisting around in his arms, Marie pulled his head down to her again, the kiss desperate and needy. Taking her with him, not letting her lips escape his, Logan leaned against the shower wall. He knew if he took her now it would be rough, and that's not what he wanted her to remember this first time for. Pulling his head away from hers, Logan sighed, then picked her up, and turning the water off, left the shower stall. Setting her on the counter in between the double sinks, Logan grinned at her. She was his wet kitten; a plait of white and brown hair falling over her eyes, soap suds still clinging to her silky skin. Moving over to the side of the double Jacuzzi tub, he started the water, turning back to her just in time to see an expectant smile steal over her face.

Returning to stand before her, he separated her thighs and moved between them, feeling the shiver of desire rush through her. Keeping half an eye on the filling tub, Logan returned to her lips, then kissed down her throat to her breasts, heaving with the exertion of taking a breath. The taste of soap wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't enough to make him stop trying to excite her. He rolled his neck when her fingers threaded into his hair, pressing him closer, causing him to thrust against her.

Breathing heavily, he rested his head on her shoulder, then, seeing the tub was full enough, picked her up and carried over, placing her in the warm water. Turning on the jets, he smirked as she trembled, getting a blast in an already excited area. Sliding down the other side of the tub, Logan let his head fall back. He heard soft splashing sounds as Marie slid over, her knees going on either side of his hips. He sat up and she put her arms around him. Kissing him passionately, she pressed herself down upon his aching manhood. Bearing down, she didn't stop until he was totally sheathed deep inside her, until they both relaxed, the closeness they'd needed finally achieved.

The feeling of Logan, inside her without a barrier for the first time, the sensation of warm skin and the friction of muscles straining made them tremble. Thanking whatever gods there were for the invention of birth control pills and mutation control, Logan shuddered as she moved up then down, her warm channel clenching as she rode him. The jetting water pummeled them, but they were oblivious, the feeling of his body in hers the only thing that mattered.

Marie was in her own world as she felt him deep inside, his jerking movements massaging her, exciting her, fulfilling her. She wanted to pull him completely inside her, and he seemed perfectly happy with the idea as he tried to thrust upward again. A whimper that could have been his name falling from her lips as he moved.

It was in a haze of words and touches that they found their rhythm, accompanied by the never-ending pounding of the water. Logan moved as much as he could, the overwhelming feeling of Marie inside and out as she moved atop him so good, so right. He watched her closely as she came, her muscles going rigid, except for the ones deep inside that pulled him behind her into euphoria. Surrendering himself deep inside her, Logan shouted her name, letting it echo around the room as he fell back, water splashing everywhere.

Logan wrapped his arms around Marie as she melted bonelessly against him, the aftershocks of completion still shooting through them. Still inside her he held her tightly, her head snuggling against his chest as he continued to stroke her back and bottom.

They stayed like that for awhile, until Marie stirred and stretched. Moving carefully to avoid stepping on anything important, Marie got out of the tub. Logan reached over and turned off the jets, and followed her, accepting his thick terry cloth robe from her as she returned to his side, already wrapped in her own robe. He was tying the belt into a loose knot when she giggled, and he raised an inquiring eyebrow at her.

Marie grabbed a large hand, the fingers wrinkled from the extended stay in the water. "Guess that healing factor doesn't extend to pruning," she said.

"Guess not," he said, looking down at her. Swinging her into his arms he gave her a lustfully leering smirk. "Takes care of other things, though," he murmured in between kisses as he carried toward their bed, her laughter stopping as he placed her gently on the bed and opened her robe.

"Fair enough," she murmured as his lips descended to hers.

---

Charlie looked up from the book he was reading when Logan stalked into his study, closing the door firmly behind him. Looking up at the other man Charlie raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Logan didn't wait for the pleasantries, just sat down on the leather sofa across from him.

"Why did Hank get all quiet when Marie and I came down to breakfast this morning? He wouldn't tell me. Said I should talk to you."

Charlie gave him that unsettlingly sage look, but didn't hesitate. "Ironhard should have gone out of business months ago. They were on the edge of bankruptcy, you know." Logan nodded; the rumors of Ironhard's financial troubles hadn't been a secret. "They received a cash infusion of five million dollars two weeks before you and Marie were kidnapped," Charlie continued. "Hank and I wondered about the coincidence, so we traced the money."

Logan stood up quickly, the angry look in his eyes making them dark brown. "Who?" he demanded icily.

Charlie sighed. "Logan, you don't want to know. We both know if I tell you, you might go and do something... rash." He held his hand up to forestall Logan's protests. "You have to make the decision, Logan. Revenge or Marie."

Logan fell back onto the sofa, glaring at Charlie. "I want both."

Charlie gave him a determined look. "You can't have both. And you know it. Anti-mutant sentiments are growing stronger, Logan. If you are seen to do something precipitous, you will not get a fair hearing. And it will be used to condemn us all." He gave Logan a determined look. "It will be handled. I will see to it myself, I assure you."

Logan didn't respond. He knew Charlie was right, but not being able to slice the life out of the people responsible still smarted. He reminded himself of his promise to take care of Marie, and she was the most important thing to him. Rubbing a hand over his pounding temples, he was relieved as the pain started to fade quickly. "All right."

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." He wheeled over to his desk, putting the book down and picking up a script. "I was wondering if you and Marie might be interested in this." He wheeled back over to Logan and handed him the treatment. "It's a pretty standard couple movie, for all the trappings."

Logan looked at the title and smirked. "'Gladiator: The Golden Cage'," he read aloud. An amused expression on his face, he glanced up at Charlie. "I'll ask her what she thinks, her first starring role." He grinned. "I guess it'll be a good distraction. While you do what you are going to do," Logan said pointedly.

"Of course. We should be ready to film in two or three weeks. The rest of the cast and crew should be back from Mexico by Friday, it sounds as if the filming of 'Fire and Ice: Desert Ice' went well. Bobby said Jubilee did wonderfully for her first directing job. And I foresee the other... problem handled by then."

Logan got up, taking the script with him. "I hope so. I'll show this to Marie, see if she wants to... practice her lines." Charlie gave Logan a knowing grin before picking up his cup of tea.

Logan turned in the doorway, remembering another question. "So, where are you on this idea of Scott's? Ready to play superhero?" Logan scoffed. "Maybe we should open the place up to mutant runaways too."

"It might not be such a bad idea, Logan." Charlie responded, ignoring Logan's snickering laughter.

Taken aback by Charlie's statement, Logan paused halfway through the door. "This is this the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Logan groused as he closed the door, heading out to the gardens to find Marie.

---

The inner sanctum of Senator Robert Jefferson Kelly's Washington DC office was a leather and dark wood appointed den, reeking of money and power. It was three o'clock in the afternoon on Friday, and Kelly was packing his briefcase, ready to make the trip back to his home in Kansas when Charles and Ororo Xavier entered his office, unannounced.

"Xavier, I'm afraid if you don't have an appointment, I can't see you..." the senator said.

"This will only take a few minutes, Senator. I'm sure your staff can handle itself while we chat." Xavier said, parking his wheelchair in between the two overstuffed leather visitor's chairs. Ororo watched out the door for a minute then closed it firmly, coming to sit on Charlie's left, raising an eyebrow at Kelly who shrugged and sat down in his own chair.

"To what do I owe the," he paused, his mouth twisting sardonically, "pleasure of this visit, Xavier?"

Charlie smiled thinly, quite willing to cut to the chase. "I think we both know, Senator. I've had someone digging into the offshore financial situations of a former competitor of mine, Ironhard Brothers Studios. You might have heard of them, and their recent... troubles."

"Yes, just another disgusting example of your kind of... business, I believe."

"Quite, quite. The interesting thing was, Ironhard was paid to make a movie recently. A double snuff film," Xavier said, his smooth head wrinkling in consternation.

"Disgraceful," Kelly sneered.

"But what was interesting is when we traced the financial records for that film, we found the money came from a company owned by a shell corporation which is owned by your personal re-election committee: 'The Human Right Brigade'."

"Really. I had no idea."

"I'm sure you didn't." Xavier barely managed to contain his sarcasm. " I'm sure that the film could be used to show not only the evils of the adult entertainment industry, but also how psychotic and dangerous mutants can be would have nothing to do with this situation."

"Really, Xavier. You and I both know I would never have anything to do with paying five million for something like that."

"Of course," Xavier said, and in the silence there was the sound of gloves being taken off. "By the way, you won't be getting it back," he smiled mockingly at the senator. "Your five million dollars, that is. A rather sizable donation was made to 'Next Step'," Xavier named a pro-mutants rights organization that Kelly had recently denounced from the Senate floor for 'seditious acts against humanity in the United States'.

Kelly stared at him in outrage.

"You made a mistake, Senator. You chose the wrong mutants to try to kill. If he finds out, you won't be able to dig a hole deep enough, even out there in Kansas, to hide from the man you tried to kill," Xavier said as Kelly seethed. "And the girl..." A distinctly malicious gleam shone in Xavier's blue eyes. "... she is the most innocently sweet looking young lady, Senator. If I was to put a picture of her and a picture of Victor Creed, perhaps his mug shot for killing those police officers, side by side and tell people what you tried to have done to her? Even your own supporters would be willing to lynch you in the capitol rotunda."

Xavier stared at him for a moment, then started to wheel out of the room, Ororo at his side, her brown eyes sending daggers at the senator.

"You can't come in here and threaten me!" Kelly shouted.

"Oh, but I can, Senator," Xavier said, turning to face the enraged politician. "You see, I was never here." With that, Ororo opened the door and walked out, Xavier's wheelchair humming as he followed.

"Henry!" Kelly shouted.

Henry Guyrich, his personal aide ran into the room.

"How could you let them in here?"

Guyrich looked at him blankly. "Let who in, Senator?"

---

Three Weeks Later

In one of their many late night conversations, Marie had told Logan one of her favorite memories of him so far was that first night, the first fluff. She had whispered this to him on a dark night in late winter as they snuggled together under the covers, in of those perfect moments before sleep settled over them. He had remained awake a long time after that, just holding her, thinking about what she said.

So he shouldn't have been surprised by the feelings that went through him at the sight of her waiting for him on the eve of their first shoot together. She was sitting on the sofa in their suite, looking over the script; her sable and white streaked hair covered by a tightly curled jet-black wig. Sylvia must have been up earlier because her face was made up and he could see the shimmer of body oil on the V of skin exposed by the loosely tied navy silk robe that she was wearing. The scent of peppermint oil drifted over to him, setting his blood on a slow boil.

"Hey."

She looked up and smiled at him, putting the script aside and standing up. He was amused to see the robe was one of his, the hem falling onto her feet, the cuffs down to her fingertips. She blushed at his stare and started to roll the cuffs up. "Hey there yourself, sugar. Where have you been? Hank was looking for you earlier."

Logan crossed over to their bedroom and went in, returning a minute later to stand next to the chair by the sofa. "Had to run an errand." He started to undress, throwing his clothes over the chair, shoving his cowboy boots underneath.

Marie sat back down on the sofa, curling her legs under her. She leaned back, openly appraising his body as he removed each item of clothing. He was slightly disappointed when she stayed on the sofa instead of coming over to him. Throwing his jeans over the chair, he walked over and stood in front of her.

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Logan leered down at her, making sure she knew he was looking down the gape in the robe. "You wouldn't happen to know what a guy has to do to get fluffed around here, would you?"

Rising to her knees and moving to the edge of the sofa, Marie's hands went to the belt of her purloined robe. "Well, I think that we have a few fluffers on salary. Would you like me to get one for you?" she asked, letting the robe fall open.

The smirk fell from Logan's lips as she revealed more of that glistening skin, as he remembered the feel of it on and around him. "Might be a good idea, Marie. I've been told that this is the big climax scene, and that the stars will have to be... up for it."

He felt the muscles clench as her hands slid over his washboard stomach and abdomen. "Hmmm. It IS the big climax. Maybe we should handle things ourselves. That way, we can be sure that the job is done right."

"If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well," Logan agreed as her hands moved lower, petting his burgeoning erection, causing him to thrust forward into her hands. Her fingers squeezed him tenderly, and he knew that Marie could feel the blood flowing, engorging the shaft, and filling her hands.

Leaning forward to kiss his stomach, she let his penis fall between her breasts; balancing herself on her knees, she continued kissing the muscled wall before her, wrapping her arms around his hips to fondle the muscled cheeks of his ass. She nibbled at the ridged muscles as he continued to thrust between her gleaming breasts, in time with the rhythm she set as she pressed him to her from behind.

"So good, baby, that feels so good..." Logan moaned. He struggled to catch his breath as her teeth gently raked over his sensitive flesh. Peering up, Marie saw his head thrown back as he gave himself over to her hands, breasts, and mouth. Releasing his buttocks she inched back slightly, leaning down to place a kiss on his throbbing flesh. Her tongue darted out to lick off a droplet from the thick head. Staring up at him she saw his eyes were wide and a tremor moved through him as she licked her lips.

Spinning around, Logan collapsed on the sofa. Breathing hard for a minute, he sighed, then pulled her onto his lap. Adjusting herself so she wasn't pressing on his aching length, she let him pull her to him. The was kiss only seconds old when his tongue demanded entrance, her hands stroking his smooth cheeks, tracing the slight lines left by decades of frowns. Words, murmured and unintelligible, were whispered between them as their bodies demanded touches and caresses. They both felt the relief of having each other in their arms, the need to have touch, the blissful satisfaction when touch was given and received.

Finally breaking for breath, Logan held her to him as he lifted them both up off the sofa. Moving over to the thankfully clear library table in the middle of the room, Logan set her down, indicating wordlessly that he wanted her to let go. The dark blue robe was still hanging off her shoulders as she did, and he stepped back a pace to stare at her, the spicy scent of her arousal mixing with the minty scent of the body oil.

"I think you could use a little... fluffing yourself, darlin'," Logan whispered. He moved between her thighs again, spreading them even wider, pulling her round bottom to the edge of the maple table.

"Fluffing is good, sugar," Marie said, her voice faltering as he bent and pressed her down, her arms circling his neck automatically. Letting his cock press against her, he didn't enter her, just applied pressure against her pubic bone. Logan started to kiss up her neck, ending at her lips, lingering only for a second.

Sliding his lips back down her silky skin, he lingered on each breast, making sure the nipples were taut and hard. Resuming his exploration, he kissed her navel, letting his tongue circle the shallow recess, entering with a thrusting motion he knew she could never misinterpret. Hearing her low cry, he moved lower, always licking, tasting, and kissing, the flavors of mint and Marie combining in delicious ways. With a grace peculiar for a man with metal fused skeleton, he went to his knees in front of her, his position between her legs giving him an open view of what he wanted most.

Ever so gently, to avoid leaving a mark on her pale skin, Logan lifted one leg, licking behind her knee. Marie shuddered as he continued to touch her with his tongue, moving up her thighs to brush only the lightest of kisses over her outer lips. Following the same pattern down her other leg, he licked behind the other knee.

"Logan!" Marie groaned, her hips coming off the table, her leg twisting in his hands.

"Easy, darlin', easy. Don't want to bruise that lovely skin now, do we?"

"I don't care, Logan," she sobbed passionately.

Kissing the smooth and sensitive skin of her inner thigh, he whispered soothing words. Licking her skin, he followed a pattern he had only in his head, the canvas of Marie's skin calling upon the inner artist to make intricate designs. Stopping to watch her writhe, he gave in, moving to the molten source of the heady scent that surrounded him. Pulling her legs to his shoulders, he let them hang lax as strong fingers parted the tender folds, covered by only a small V of hair. Logan thought about this morning's orgy of shaving; Marie wrapped around him as she shaved his face and chest. How trusting her eyes had been as he had taken the razor to the curly brown hairs between her legs.

Returning to the moment, he blew a breath on her moist folds, feeling her back go tense, her hips shifting to give him better access. Using the tip of his tongue he prodded her clitoris, the erect column of nerves straining toward him, aching for his touch. Logan smiled a self-satisfied smirk as her legs slammed into his back, using him for leverage as her hips pistoned off the table. His tongue slid under the hood of her clit and he sucked gently, moving one finger into her tight, wet, channel. He wasn't surprised at her scream of pleasure, or the warm Marie-essence that flooded his mouth.

Feeling her legs relax against his shoulders, he waited, letting her muscles massage his finger deep within her. The last of the strong aftershocks over, Logan withdrew mouth and hand, gently removing her legs from his shoulders and stood up, the pleasure he took in her satisfaction in every pore of his body. She looked languorous and satiated, a smile curving her kiss bruised lips.

Marie opened her eyes as he leaned over her, still trying to catch her breath, still trying to categorize the feelings into easily understood sensations. When he kissed her, she tasted herself on his lips and tongue. For a moment she let herself miss that distinctive hair, remembering the feel of his whiskers on the sensitive skin between her thighs. She would be glad when he could grow it all back. Her heart in her eyes, she let him pull her up, and wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight, felt his erection pressing against her.

"Logan?"

"Hmmm?"

"I didn't think fluffers were supposed to make the fluffees come."

Pulling back, he looked at her closely, her skin flushed to a rosy shade of pink, her nipples still hard and peaked with arousal. "Special treat being your first movie and all," he said, kissing her deeply.

When they broke apart he let her off the table, leaving the blue robe to puddle on the wood. He groaned as she brushed his penis, still erect and straining. She looked down at herself and giggled. He raised an eyebrow.

"The oil kind of rubbed off, didn't it?" Marie smiled faintly.

Taking her hand, he pulled her into the bathroom. Rinsing his face, he turned and placed a bathmat down and handed her the bottle of oil that sat on the counter. "Oil me up?" he asked unnecessarily.

Taking the oil from him she poured a stream into her cupped hands, breathing on it to warm it up. Rubbing it into his shoulders, she moved down to his chest, fingers lingering, fondling the ridges, then up his arms. More oil for his back then down to his glutes and legs. The silky warmth of Marie's hands on his lower back, pressing in that sensitive spot, caused him to thrust his hips sharply. Frustration warred with relief as a soft hand came around to stroke his aching cock, her other hand continuing to massage his back.

Logan was concentrating on keeping control, the feel of her hands and the steady ache of his own body's demand for gratification driving him to distraction. He opened his eyes when she released him, moving stand in front of him. Looking behind her in the mirror he saw them, his body glistening above her smaller frame. He watched closely as she moved closer to him, his body buzzing at her presence, and he clamped down on the urge to sit her on the countertop and have his way with her. He raised an eyebrow questioningly as she drizzled the oil onto her breasts, then rubbed her hands quickly on her sides.

Marie knew he was holding on by a thread, but she was ready to see how far they could go. Pulling his hands from his sides, she placed them on her breasts, sighing in relief when he started to massage the oil in, his fingers fondling the hard peaks. His hands kept moving, spreading the minty oil over her skin, returning the luster his fluffing had rubbed off. Marie quivered as his slick hands moved between her thighs, the palm rubbing against her, a finger lazily stroking the outer lips. She felt a tortuous jolt of need when he picked her up, her legs going around him, holding him tight, trapping his hard flesh between them.

"Can't wait," he muttered huskily, positioning himself at the juncture of her thighs. He started to press forward, then stopped.

"Logan? Please, sugar?" Marie whimpered as he stopped, poised at her entrance. She looked at him, her eyes imploring him to continue. Then, from their bedroom, she heard it...

"Logan? Marie? We're ready to start filming if you are..." Hank's voice trailed off as he stopped in front of the open bathroom door. Looking at them, he blushed, not an easy thing to do for a furry blue mutant. "I'll just go back to the set," he stammered, beating a hasty retreat. Seconds later, Logan heard the door to their suite close.

Logan groaned, leaning his head against Marie's, trying to collect himself, even as she shook with humor and repressed passion. "Fuck."

"You said it, sugar," Marie said, her voice hoarse with foiled passion.

---

Surprisingly, Logan and Marie didn't take long to come down to the set. The first part of the scene would be filmed outside, where an arena of sorts had been set up. The second half of the scene was being filmed in the ballroom. The room's high ceiling and dome filled the room with natural light, making the marble columns gleam. Hanging long fabric banners from the ceiling, which also helped to disguise the modern elements of the room's design, had created an ancient Roman flare. Everyone had been pleased by the set, knowing it would be easily be mistaken by the average porn consumer as being of ancient Rome. A huge bed and a large cage metal cage, the bars painted gold, took up more than half the space in the room.

The movie was a take-off on the popular movie of a number of years ago, 'Gladiator'. Logan was playing the title character, the gladiator, Maximus. The plot centered on Maximus, whose former lover, Drucilla, had gotten him in trouble. After leaving her, he had developed an interest in a young woman, Sexta, who was staying in the home of some mutual friends. In a fit of jealousy, Drucilla had complained to her new beau, who then had Maximus kidnapped and sold into slavery. When Drucilla found out, she tried to help him, and knowing that the Emperor was the only person who could free him from slavery, she had him brought to fight before him. If the Gladiator won the fight, he would be given to the Emperor's Examiner, who would test him for his worthiness to be heir to the Empire.

Hank had looked a little nervous when he returned from their suite and had mentioned in passing to Jubilee that he would be thankful if he survived the shoot. Jubilee, not one to misinterpret such statements, had figured out exactly what Logan and Marie were up to, even before they entered the ballroom. Jubilee elbowed Remy, who was also in the scene, and pointed at the other couple, as they entered through the 'Roman Arch'.

"Look at that. I told you. It's luuuuuuvvvvvv," she chortled.

Remy looked over and saw Wolverine... Logan staring at them, his brow furrowed. "Chere, I think you best not be talkin' about such things." He glanced up to see Hank edging cautiously toward the couple. "Especially when he can be hearing you."

Jubilee looked up to see Logan still staring at them. "Whoops," she said unapologetically, waving cheerfully to Logan.

Logan turned back to Hank, who was reassuring Marie. "Don't worry, my dear, we will just shoot this as one scene to edit later," Hank's sharp teeth stood out against his furry blue skin as he smiled widely. "You and Logan just follow the script and work on satisfying each other, and everything will be magnificent. Just forget the cameras and have fun." His director's words of wisdom delivered, Hank left Logan and Marie, thankful that he seemed to be forgiven. Calling to Remy, he told him to join Logan in make-up. Sylvia was already putting a black wig on Logan, a short cap of fine black hair. Logan's wig pinned firmly; she turned to Remy, attaching a blonde wig to his head.

Logan was watching in the mirror as Jubilee walked over to Marie and whispered in her ear. He frowned, the noise in the rest of the room preventing him from hearing everything they said. He got the gist of the conversation when the two women came over to where he and Remy sat and Marie climbed into his lap, while Jubilee did the same to Remy.

Making sure to protect his erect penis from any unintentional harm, for she knew who the true star of this flick was, Marie's hand slid under his black silk robe to fondle and stroke him. The shaving and wig wasn't much of a disguise, but Marie knew that most people would never associate the bearded Logan with this sleek creature. While Marie continued to keep Logan aroused with her skilled hands, Sylvia made sure Marie's wig was still pinned properly. After letting Marie give Logan one last kiss on the lips, the make-up woman applied a final coat of lipstick to Marie's lips, muttering at their kiss-swollen state. Sylvia disappeared for a few minutes to return with their costumes.

Logan and Remy's were simple. A shield and a realistic looking plastic sword, a packet of fake blood hidden in the hilt. Logan blinked in resignation as Sylvia handed him his shield. Sighing, he looked at Remy, who had the same incredulous expression on his face.

"You gonna be sure to watch where you be swingin' that sword, oui, homme?"

"Just watch yourself there, Gumbo. I don't want to run a test on growing back important pieces," Logan replied.

Hank returned, calling for Logan and Remy to follow him out to the set. Pushing Marie off his lap, Logan got up out of the chair and taking off his robe, tossed it onto the chair. Marie and Jubilee watched as Logan and Remy left the room, on their way to the set where the fight scene would be filmed, their tightly muscled, well-oiled bodies gleaming in the lights. Marie sighed as Logan disappeared out the door.

Jubilee turned to Marie, a lustful smirk on her face. "Get into your costume, we can go watch."

Sylvia helped Marie into her costume, a sheer white stola, the sides cut all the way up to her hips and a neckline that went down to her waist, creating a deep V of exposed flesh. It was held together with a fabric belt in a deep purple. The wig of tight curls in place, Marie slipped on a pair of sandals, and she and Jubilee crept silently out to the patio, where the arena set had been built.

Wolverine and Gambit were in the middle of a round fenced off arena, lunging and feinting at one another with the plastic swords, defending themselves with the shields. Xavier and Storm sat on a dais watching the gladiators as Storm fed Charlie peeled grapes. Marie shushed Jubilee as she doubled over with repressed laughter at the sight. They both winced as Gambit's sword hit home and the blood pack in the sword squirted a line of red onto Wolverine's arm. That was the crossover to the next scene, and Wolverine lunged past Gambit's sword, plunging his sword into his opponent's chest, the blade retracting up into the hilt, breaking the blood packet. The Cajun took one last gasp, his chest a gory mess, and fell, his shield falling on top of him, covering the wound as the blood packet emptied.

Marie stared as Wolverine stood over his defeated enemy, his chest heaving. He threw the shield away and stood proudly nude in front of Xavier's Emperor Principus Priapicus. Sweat was coursing down his neck and over his chest, his manhood hanging heavily erect. He cracked his neck, and Marie barely restrained herself from throwing him down on that sandy arena floor and having her way with him. She took a deep, steadying breath. She would have her chance to do just that soon enough.

"You have won the day, Centurion Maximus Erectus," Xavier intoned imperiously. "You have defeated Malus, and have won the right to take the test of the Golden Cage. If you pass the test, you will be the next in line for my throne." Wolverine inclined his head respectfully, and Iceman and Pyro came over and stood on either side of him, dressed in brief togas with hems that ended just an inch short of respectability. Iceman blindfolded Wolverine, then after saluting the Emperor they all started back into the mansion, toward the set with the golden cage.

Marie ran back into the ballroom, Jubilee staying to help Remy clean up after his maiming. Climbing onto the bed, she adopted the seductive pose the camera would first see her in. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax, feeling a pleasant buzz when the boys came in, escorting Wolverine. Following Hank's advice, she tried to ignore the cameras, instead thinking about Wolverine, who stood before her sweaty, erect, and still blindfolded. She nodded to the guards and inclined her head in the direction of the cage. She gave no indication of the excitement flowing through her. Never looking away from the three men, she strove to look bored as the captive was chained to her golden cage.

When they were finished shackling his wrists to the bars, leaving his arms only a few inches of slack to move from their upright position against the bars, they left him, leaving the cage door open. Giving Rogue a nodding salute, they left her alone in the room with her captive. When the door closed she got off the bed and began walking around the cage, watching in appreciation as the rivulets of sweat dried on his skin.

When she opened the cage door, he started, trying to see through the blindfold over his eyes. "Who is there?"

Leaning against the side of the cage she whispered softly, "Your examiner, Maximus."

He grunted and ignored her, exuding resentment and discomfort. Rogue moved closer to him, remaining just out of reach, but close enough that the hem of her long stola brushed against his leg. He reacted, lurching forward, but she was quicker than he was, moving out of his grasp easily.

"Maximus, you don't want to do it like that. If you would just calm yourself, this will be much easier. If you are agreeable, you will be much more satisfied at the results."

The set of his chin told her he was glaring at her, even if she couldn't see his eyes through the blindfold. He leaned back, resting against the golden bars. Rogue returned to his side, then stood over him, one leg on either side of his knees. Kneeling, she sat astride his lap. "You see, Maximus, you have nothing to fear from me," she assured him.

"I beg to differ, lady. You have me at a disadvantage."

She smiled slowly and started to rock, her pelvis on his, his penis wedged to his abdomen by the pressure of her body. "We will see, Maximus. We will see."

He couldn't help the moan that fell from his lips, and Rogue smiled. He had been ready an hour ago; she knew that even Wolverine's prowess must be at the breaking point. Her lips starting on his cheeks, just under the blindfold, she began to kiss him, moving down his body ever so slowly, still grinding onto his erection. Continuing her explorations, Rogue licked her way down his chest, never letting him rest for a moment.

"Lady..."

"Shhhhh." She kissed his lips, her hands stroking down his face, a reassuring touch for the blindfolded gladiator.

Lifting her lips from his, she stood and untied the purple sash that held her stola together. Letting the garment fall, Rogue knew that the camera was eating it up, even if Wolverine couldn't see it. Kicking the linen across the cage, she returned to Wolverine, kneeling at his feet, pulling his legs open, crawling between them.

He started when she touched his ankle, a quiver shooting through him as she traced up the muscled calf and thigh. Tossing her hair back over one shoulder, giving the camera a clean angle, she took his aching hardness deep into her mouth. He groaned as she closed her lips, sucking him from root to tip as she moved backwards. With only the head still in her warm mouth, her tongue swirling around it, he reacted, thrusting upward, and she let him fall free. Down once again, she angled herself under him and licked from the underside to the head, licking off the pearl of pre-cum that she had enticed.

"Lady..." he said again, fidgeting against the chains that held his hands up against the bars.

She said nothing, instead simply adjusted their positions, taking him within her, slowly, inch by inch. When he was completely sheathed, she stilled, letting her body adjust to him. She felt him deep inside, the intimate stretching causing her heart to race. Rogue let her hands move into his, still chained to the bars, and used his firm grasp for leverage as she moved up and down upon him.

Wolverine existed in the forced darkness behind the blindfold, his other senses picking up the slack. Her scent was driving him mad, combining with the sensation of her wet channel tightening around him as she moved upon him. Holding her hands tightly in his, he bucked his hips up, and was rewarded with a sigh and a clench of rippling inner muscles, pulling his cock deeper. A leg went around him, settling her tightly upon him.

"Deeper, Maximus. Deeper..." Rogue moaned. She leaned back; knowing the camera needed a view of the connection of their bodies. Her arms were completely extended, her fingers intertwined with his as she continued to pulse around him.

They started to moan together, the words yes, more, and deeper becoming a litany, Rogue's voice becoming higher and higher, his becoming deeper. Rogue was beginning to pant; Wolverine was ready, he had been ready for an hour, and he needed release, badly. Grasping her hands firmly in his, he pulled her back toward him, letting one hand go as her breasts crushed into his chest. She twisted herself around him, one arm going around his neck and as he thrust upward, striking as deeply as he could, their lips meeting in a smoldering kiss. All rhythm lost, Wolverine came hard and deep, Rogue pulsing around him, forcing him to surrender completely.

It took some time for their breathing to return to normal, for their hearts to stop pounding as the sweat dried on their skin. Finally lifting her head from his shoulder, placing a kiss on his throat, Rogue used her free hand to remove the blindfold.

"Sexta?"

She nodded. "Yes, Maximus Erectus."

Wolverine raised an eyebrow at her. "Sexta."

She nodded, gasping when he started to thrust against her again.

"You look as good as you feel, Sexta," he murmured into her hair. "But I think we should continue this examination somewhere else." At her shocked look, he only smiled tightly, then extended the claws on one hand and flicked back, cutting through the bars. Leaving the manacle still around his wrist he used the claw to free his other wrist, his hand still holding hers.

Rogue moved slightly, wrapping her legs around his hips. He let go of her hand and she wrapped her arms around his neck, already starting to flex those strong inner muscles on his manhood, which continued to expand and fill her. Standing, his lover wrapped around him, Wolverine looked over at the large bed across from the cage.

Kicking the door of the cage open, Wolverine headed toward the silk covered bed. Once there, he let her fall to the mattress, following her down, never breaking their intimate connection. Her nails bit harder in to the muscles of his shoulders as he suckled her nipples gently. She continued to pet him, stroking his back, moving down to cup his ass, trying to pull him deeper as he continued to tease her with shallow thrusts.

"Maximus," Rogue cried, her legs squeezing him tightly as she tightened her inner muscles, her breast slipping from his mouth as he struggled for breath. Knowing that they needed to get the shot, needed to make this count, Wolverine began thrusting harder, slanting to put enough pressure on her clitoris. They were both moaning and saying nonsense things, pleading for more.

Rogue's world was down to the places on her body where he was touching her, the feeling of his skin against hers, his body deep inside, his lips and tongue tormenting her. She whimpered as he thrust against her slick heat, forcing her higher, her blood pounding in her ears as his pubic bone pressed against her clit, forcing a hoarse scream from her throat.

Her hands were everywhere and he could feel her tensing, feel the slow burn starting to rage out of control. He kept moving until she screamed, "Maximus!" And he could feel the explosion within her, the feeling of her wet channel against him, milking him finally too much. He exploded inside her, the name "Sexta," a groan as he fell on her, held tightly in her arms, his body around and in her completely.

Rogue opened an eye as Hank yelled, "Cut!" to finish the scene. They lay, panting, stray aftershocks still tingling through them. Breath finally caught, and with a wink, Wolverine rolled out and off of her, grabbing the robe Sylvia held out to him. Helping her up, he wrapped her in her own robe, smiling as she sat heavily back down on the bed.

Hank smiled hugely as he made his way to the bed. "Wonderful! Very passionate, my friends. We will shoot the ending after lunch."

The crew, as was usual during a shoot like this, cleared out quickly, leaving them alone on the set. It was standard procedure to give the stars a bit of private time to wind down before the next scene.

"Marie?" Logan questioned, seeing the thoughtful expression on her face.

"Just wondering what my mother would say if she knew what I just did."

"Mom wouldn't take it well?" Logan asked, settling back down on the bed with her.

"Don't think so, sugar."

"Mom a real straightlaced type?"

"Aren't all southern mamas?"

"I'm from Canada, remember?"

She turned and grinned at him. "Eh, I forgoot all aboot that."

He gave her a mock glare, rubbing his face. "I need to go shave again."

She looked at him. "Why do you shave for work, instead of the other way around?"

He grinned wryly. "I have a five o'clock shadow at noon. For these things, I shave, it grows back, nobody knows me on the street. The other way around just wouldn't work."

"Ahh. " She sat up, letting the robe fall open slightly. "Do you need some help shaving?"

Not bothering to answer, he took her hand and they headed back up to their rooms.

---

Returning to the set at the two o'clock start time, Logan and Marie were in good spirits. Marie had been very careful, shaving the stubble from Logan's face. To avoid making a mess on the robes they had stripped, and concentration had come and gone. It had taken the entire hour, and had begged some interesting ideas for the next time they had a weekend and a can of whipping cream instead of shaving cream.

The scene began where the other had left off, Wolverine in the bed, a silken sheet pulled to his waist. The camera panned up for a close up of his face then fell back to see the sheet move, a lump stopping at his hips. The expression on Wolverine's face changed from sleep relaxed to distracted as he writhed in time to this erotic dream.

Under the sheet, Rogue continued to arouse him, watching as he grew harder. He bucked his hips, his hand moving to stroke her head, the signal that he was about to pull the sheet back. Opening wide, she swallowed as much of him as she could. When the sheet was pulled back and the camera, now over Wolverine's shoulder panned down his body, getting a perfect view of her pleasuring him orally. Pulling back, she let him fall from her lips, knowing the camera would love to see him, fully aroused and ready to start again.

Rogue's hands stole beneath to tickle his balls as she took him deep yet again, surpressing the instinct to gag and letting him thrust against her lips. Her hands moved up and stroked his belly, making circular motions as she ran her teeth up his hard length, nipping gently just below the head, making him shudder.

Nudging him with her nose, she licked from his balls back up to the head, stopping to swirl her tongue and lick the glistening droplet from the tip. She stared into his eyes and licked her lips. Wolverine sat up, his groans turned into a low, sexy growl. He leant down and grasped her, pulling her up his body, his lips finding hers with a forceful kiss.

Rogue perched on his hips, pressing down on his erection, moaning when his hands came up and fastened themselves to her breasts, squeezing gently, his thumbs swirling her nipples clockwise. She gave herself up to the sensations of lips and hands, her hips moving unconsciously with the rhythm he set.

When he fell back, she followed, moaning as his cock wedged into her wet heat. She shifted slightly, then pressed down and they both moaned as the head penetrated. Rolling over, he slid down her body, positioning himself between her legs, his tongue separating her nether lips. He had only licked once when her feet were on his shoulders, and she pushed him away from her.

Looking down at her, he gave her a questioning look.

She gave him a siren's smile and turned around, positioning her head near the foot of the bed, her feet near the headboard, her legs opened wide. When he stepped up to the bed, she could see his hard length swaying above her. Smiling up at him, she let her legs fall open, watching his cock quiver. He took the hint and moved back to the bed, placing a knee on either side of her head, leaving his penis to hang over her head while his returned to nestle between her thighs. Rogue leaned up and took him in her mouth, tasting herself on him as she wrapped her lips around him. Craning her neck, she took him deeper, sucking, pulling her head back as he thrust shallowly. Wolverine lowered himself into her mouth so she could take him, groaning as her arms went around his hips to hold onto his buttocks, pulling him to her, setting a rhythm.

Keeping one elbow firmly on the mattress, he used his other hand to open her lips, finding the excited bundle of nerves. His tongue moved inside, curling to push into her wet channel, mimicking the actions of his hips as she took him deep in her mouth, her lips pursing around him, suckling him. He let his fingers, coated with her warm essence, stroke her clit, quivering as her moan vibrated through his sensitized flesh.

Rogue let one hand fall between his open legs and started to massage the underside of his balls, lifting their heft, rolling them. Lightly squeezing, she was rewarded with a moan. Feeling lightheaded as his tongue left her, she growled in complaint, making him shudder again. She started violently as she felt a finger enter her, then two as he started to tongue and suck her clit. Lifting her hips, trying to get him to move deeper, she stepped up her touching, letting her tongue work the helmet shaped head until she could taste him, feel the warm liquid starting to fill her mouth. Wolverine returned the favor, tonguing her, his fingers fighting her muscles to withdraw, then pushing back inside in a familiar rhythm. She orgasmed as his tongue lapped at her, the sensation pushing her over the edge. There was nothing in the room but them as they pleasured each other.

When they were done, when he had finished, pulling lax and satiated from her lips, pressing one last kiss to her clit, he carefully rolled to his back, then twisted around so their heads were next to one another on the mattress. Their hands moved on each other's skin, petting and touching. Looking up, they saw the cameras moving over them, taking in every detail of their passionate loving.

When the cameras pulled back, Rogue rolled off the bed. Grabbing one of the sheets from their disarrayed pile on the floor, she handed it to him, motioning him to get up. "Come, Maximus." She walked over to the cage and retrieved her stola, turning to watch him wrap the sheet around him like a makeshift toga.

With that she led him out the door. Hank and Jubilee were on the other side, their eyes huge. "Cut!" Hank squeaked.

"Wow. That was..." Jubilee's voice broke off.

"Gold." Hank completed for her.

"Yeah." Jubilee's huge hoop earrings jangled as she nodded violently.

Hank took a deep breath and looked at Wolverine and Rogue, collecting himself. "Allright. We'll go down and shoot the bath scene, then we're almost done for the day."

Marie looked at Logan, knowing she looked as disreputable as he did. They turned down the hall to go out the spa that Charlie had put in a few years ago. It wasn't a roman bath by any means, but it was close enough. And as Scott had said when the previous scene had been put on the storyboard, did anyone really think at this point that the average viewer would notice?

'Ro was checking the light meters as they entered the room, nodding to Hank as he moved around them. "All right," Hank called. "Everyone in position."

Rogue and Wolverine moved to the door, and at a signal from Jubilee, entered the bath.

Dropping their clothes over a bench, they walked into the pool. Wolverine ducked under, letting the water cleanse him. Moving over to the underwater bench, he sat, watching Rogue as she let the water flow over her from the man in the moon spout against the wall of the bath. When she was done, she moved over to him, sitting on his lap.

"You did not expect to see me, Maximus."

"No, not after..."

"Why did you leave?"

"I was forced away."

"You will not speak against her?"

"No. She acted in haste and poorly."

"You killed her favorite in the arena."

"That was battle, Sexta. Nothing more."

"Ahh." Rogue leaned into him, her lips capturing hers.

"Ahem." Shocked, they broke apart, looking up at Pyro, standing next to the bath.

"What do you want, Pyronicus?"

"Your father wishes your report, my lady."

"Very well." Rogue stood up, leaving Wolverine in the water, looking at her, his eyes a dark brown.

"Pyronicus will find you some clothes," Rogue said, pulling on her stola. "He will bring you to me when I have finished with my father." She turned, striding out the door, leaving Wolverine and Pyro staring after her.

"Her father?" Wolverine asked, already knowing the answer.

"The Emperor Principus Priapicus," Pyro replied, pulling a toga out of a cabinet.

---

Rogue's next scene was with Charlie alone.

He was seated on a faux marble throne, his long toga covering his legs when she arrived back in the ballroom. The set was in the small corner of the ballroom the cage bedroom hadn't filled.

At a nod from Hank, she walked over to him.

"Have you made a decision, daughter?"

"Yes. He is the one."

"He tested well?"

"Yes. He is the one I told you about."

"I had wondered. Very well. He will be yours." Rogue came to his side, and he stroked the side of her cheek. "He is free for you, daughter."

Rogue stood back and curtsied respectfully. "Thank you, father." With that, she turned and left.

---

The scene between Rogue and Charlie's scene and Rogue and Wolverine's next scene was being shot on the balcony. Wolverine, dressed in the same kind of barely decent toga as Pyro, was waiting outside the room where he and Rogue had shot their scenes.

Phoenix, dressed in a stola much the same as Rogue's, climbed the stairs to meet him, looking uncomfortable at the lack of warm welcome.

"Maximus."

"Lady Drucilla."

"Rumor has it you have passed her tests."

"Yes. I am sorry about your lover, but it was... necessary."

"You have gained your revenge, Maximus."

"It was never about revenge."

"So you care for her?"

"Lady, what would you have do? Call young Pyronicus over there over and run off with you? Have him tell Sexta my heart belongs to someone else?"

"Would it be a lie?"

"Yes."

"Then no, Maximus Erectus, I would not have you say it." Phoenix began to move back down the steps, carefully holding the stola. "Good bye, Maximus. Be well."

"To you as well, Lady Drucilla." Wolverine turned, not even watching Phoenix as she left.

Turning, he saw Rogue coming at him, smiling. "Come, Maximus. We have plans to make."

"As you wish, Lady Sexta," he said, smiling down at her.

And with that, they walked back into the ballroom.

"Cut!" Hank called.

It took a few minutes of sorting out, but soon everyone was gathered in the ballroom. "I do believe this will be our greatest epic to date," Hank enthused, smiling hugely.

Jean grinned at him. "Yes, but where on earth did you get that last line, Hank? That 'My heart belongs to someone else' dross? Cheesy, Hank, very cheesy."

"Ah, well, it seemed like a good set up line for a sequel, when we did the storyboards. You know, make it seem like he could have feelings for someone else."

"It didn't work, dude." Jubilee stated from her place next to Rogue.

"I suppose not. Well, we will see how the sequel works out. I'm sure that it will all work out." Hank looked around. "Is anyone else hungry? How about Thai food tonight?"

---

The tapes were in the editing room, waiting to be edited and spliced, the post-filming orgy of a Thai food meal finished. Marie and Logan, mellowed by a long soak in their tub, were curled around each other, the afterglow of the day's events lasting long and felt deep. Kissing her shoulder, Logan twisted around, grabbing something from the bedside table drawer.

Marie's eyes grew huge as he turned back to face her, a small green velvet box in one large hand. Leaning back on the pillows he took her in his arms, her head resting on his chest.

"Marie, darlin', I want to ask you something," he said as he opened the box.

---

Two Months Later

She was a looker, that one. Even in the spring weight coat, the hood covering her hair, wisps of brown and white poking out here and there, he could tell.

But Craig, the night clerk at Westchesty Adult Video, didn't look long, the guy she was with looked like he could break Craig into pieces without breaking a sweat. He was a bad ass for sure, the facial hair making him look like a wild man, the long black leather coat that bulged almost obscenely at the muscles in his shoulders. They went up and down the aisles, then stopped at the "New Releases" shelf, and Craig could see them laughing at the titles.

He was used to it, couples without a sex life who used porn to spice up their lives, pretending to be the stars. Craig liked to create background stories for them...

She was a teacher, who had fallen for this guy at a boxing match a few years ago. He looked the type to enjoy a good bloodsport or two. He was a cop now, and despite the sexy young thing at his side, was so preoccupied with the job that the only holes he paid attention to were in donuts.

Her favorite position was missionary, under the covers, lights off. His was doggy-style - he just looked like the canine sex type. The spark had gone out of their relationship when they both started working long hours, him trying for overtime, while she spent long hours grading exams. They were in love, Craig could see that, but the cop stud just couldn't keep it up long enough for them to have sex. So they came here to get some ideas, both embarrassed, but willing to do it to get their relationship back on track.

The babe pointed out a box to the stud, and he picked it up, looking none too happy with her choice, but resigned. Craig could hear them talking as they came back up to the counter.

"Come on, sugar, it's part of the whole experience."

"How many of these do we have at home?"

"It'll be naughty," she said, her arm creeping around his waist. She leaned into the guy then, speaking softly. Craig could only make out one word, "poodles".

The stud sighed, but obviously, even with his problem, he wasn't immune to her touch. His next protest was given with much less ire. "Darlin', we have a whole room of these things you know, you could have just taken one from there."

"I want to try it this way. See how it works, if it feels any different."

Oh man thought Craig. It was worse than he had thought. Porn wasn't working. He wondered how long it had been since they had had sex. You'd think that they'd see a doctor, get a prescription for Viagra, or at least try one of those all-natural substitutes you see advertised on the Internet.

By the time they reached the counter the stud had one arm around her shoulder, letting go only to hand Craig the box.

"'Gladiator: The Golden Cage'," Craig read, nodding approvingly as the stud filled out the membership card. " I think you'll enjoy this one, supposed to be one of the hottest things to come from Big Baldie," Craig informed them as he took the signed membership card from the stud. "They film right up the road you know."

"Do they really?" The babe's voice was low and sexy, a Southern drawl that turned the words into warm molasses.

"Yup. That's what the boss says," Craig added agreeably. "That'll be $6.47 for the two night rental, Mr. Carcajou."

The stud took a ten out of his wallet and paid. After giving him his change Craig bagged up their rental in one of the store's plain brown bags.

"Thanks, Craig," the babe said, reading his name off his name tag, as they turned to leave.

"You're welcome. I hope it helps."

Whoops.

The big man turned around and his hazel eyes bore into Craig, who shivered.

"Helps with what ?" Mr. Carcajou said, rubbing his knuckles as he glared at Craig.

"Ummm... Nothing... Meant, 'I hope you enjoy it'. Supposed to be the hottest thing Big Baldie ever put out. Better even than Cyclops and Phoenix in 'Red Shades and Mindbending Lust'. Really. New lead actress up there, I hear. Reviews say she looked like she sucked the Wolverine dry and then some." Craig babbled, praying he'd make it home tonight.

The guy actually growled, stopping only when the babe put her hand on his arm, diamond and emerald ring sparkling in the overhead lights. "Come on, sugar. We have to work tomorrow, we don't have time to waste tonight." She turned again to Craig and smiled. "Night."

"Night, ma'am, sir."

Craig relaxed as the stud nodded to him, the gesture now only slightly threatening. With that, the couple walked back out into the rainy spring night. Craig finally relaxed as he saw them get into a truck out in the parking lot, feeling reassured that the movie and the babe would distract Mr. Carcajou.

He really hoped that tape would help them get their love life back on track; the guy might be a little less hostile if he got laid.

The End