This is just too good. Vast expanse of snow on both sides of the road, black asphalt glistening and rippling under the sun. Small, ant-like dot in the distance. Logan. Looks like he got in to some trouble with the bike. Well, he wanted to drive. Feel the wind in his hair. Can feel all the wind he likes… What’s he doing now? Looks like… Binoculars, where did I put those… There.
Oh, yeah. He took of his jacket and shirts. There are some screws and bolts on the ground. Grease stains on his fingers. And how the fuck he can crouch wearing those jeans? Or even move without getting a permanent hard-on? From where did he even found those? I think… Yeah. They’re the same jeans he got on when we first met. Jesus. He doesn’t look a day older… I’m a perv. Here I am, sitting on the hood of the truck, spying shamelessly while my poor husband is trying to fix his beloved bike. I’m a horrible… What? What is he doing now?
Standing up and stretching his back, hands behind his back pulling his pecks taut and making his abs rippling. Face turned towards the sun, eyes narrowed to tiny slits. He’s worked up little sweat; it’s beading between his shoulderblades. What… He’s taking his jacket… Logan, no!
Phew. No jacket. He just took out a cigar from the pocket. Smoke’s twirling around him in lazy patterns. Wind just died down. Looks like this is going to become a warm day. And from the way Logan’s leaning to the bike, practically lounging upon it, we will be here for a while. I really have no objections.
He’s taking his time, just soaking up the sun. All that bare skin and muscle spread over black leather of the seat of his bike. He’s reaching for the radio… Better get in the cab.
“You might as well come down her ogling me. There’s a screw loose somewhere. Can’t find it. This might take a while…” His voice flows from the speaker like syrup. Thick and lazy.
“Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Kid?”
“Yeah?”
“Love you.”
“I… Love you, too, honey…”
I haven’t heard those words coming out of that mouth ever. Not once during these forty-four years I have known him. Logan doesn’t talk. He doesn’t share his feelings, not even with me. He always says that stuff like that is for pansies. A pansy like Summers was. Have I gone through some sort of portal? Is this some kind of alternate universe? Not that I didn’t like that sudden declaration, but…
I should stop grinning like a freaking idiot and drive over there.
“Marie?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s taking you so long? Haul your ass down here. It’s getting kind of cold without my girl on my side…”
“Coming. I’m coming…” As soon as my hands stop trembling so that I can turn on the engine…
“Don’t you dare to come without me…”
“Logan!” Only thing turning on while he’s purring like that is me.
“What’s the problem?” I try to sound casual, but it’s pretty damn hard when he’s laying there, eyes closed and sun dancing over that naked expanse of skin and muscle.
“There’s a bolt loose somewhere. Could hear it rattling. Now I can’t find the damn thing…” His eyes are closed. Stub of cigar lies on the ground, squashed like a bug. He looks awfully comfortable.
“So instead of fixing it you decided to put up a strip show?” I run my fingers over his stomach, down to his side and he chuckles.
“Tickles… Yeah. Figured I could lure you down here in no time…”
“For what?”
“You have smaller hands than I. I think it’s somewhere behind the engine…”
“No fair. You can’t use sex to…”
“I can’t?” And there goes the eyebrow. I fucking hate him.
“I’ll get grease all over me…”
“So? Take off your shirt. It’s not like there’s a lot of traffic to be worried about.”
“It’s so cold. I’ll freeze to death or something.” Again that eyebrow.
“Come on. Since when have you gotten such a prude?”
“You’re not planning to fix the bike?”
“Nope.”
“There’s nothing really wrong with it?”
“Nope.” Well, in that case…
I may be many things, but prude? I think he stripped off last bits of my prudeness when he fucked me in Laughlin, right after the match in that bar. There were few customers still left, too drunk to care what was going on, and even the bartender was quite oblivious about what was happening when Logan took me against the cage. Oblivious, or gotten used to people shagging after fights like rabid weasels.
Shirt off. Hood of the truck has warmed in the sun, it’s actually quite comfortable place to lie down. Even with three hundred and plus pounds of muscle and adamantium covering me. Logan’s usually so fucking careful, almost as if he were afraid that he could break me. Restrained and leashed. Now there’s not a trace of that restraint left. His kisses leave my lips numb and swollen. His hips are grinding against me hard enough to dent the metal under my buttocks. It’s turning me on like nothing has done before. When he turns his attention to my breasts and starts laving and suckling my nipples I can’t suppress my screams. I can’t keep my hands off from his hair. I’m squirming, scratching and kicking. He doesn’t seem to mind. Just settles his weight firmer on me, to keep me under his frame. His hands slide lower, under my buttocks. Those strong fingers kneading, finding the warmth and moisture that has soaked through my jeans.
“Take these off…” He murmurs, trying to open the buttons of the fly.
“Let me…” I don’t want him to ruin these jeans. Most comfortable pair I own… He knows it and lets me stand up so that I can take them off, rather than cutting them away from me.
“Much better…” His fingers slide over my folds, first teasing.
“Logan…” Shit. He’s going to make me beg for it. I can feel how hard he is, his cock throbbing through his jeans, but that look on his face… He’s going to draw this out. Not a quickie this time. He draws a moist path with his fingers from my cleft to my breasts and follows it with his tongue, smirking when I try to push his head lower.
“Impatient, are we?”
“I’ll show you impatient…” I grab his hair and pull him back on top of me, nibbling and biting his lips and throat. He thrusts against me, denim of his jeans brushing against my clit and I’m fucking ready to fall apart. I manage to slide my hands between us and start unbuttoning his fly.
I can hear couple of trucks passing us, one of them even honks for us, but I don’t care. My world has suddenly gotten very small. There’s nobody else than me and Logan, his cock plowing through my wetness, making every nerve ending in me tingle. I can hear metal under me creaking under the strain. I wrap my legs tighter around Logan’s waist, my hands grasping his clenching buttocks. This is too good to be true. He’s pounding me like there’s no tomorrow, slight grimace twisting his face, teeth bared. Deeper. Every stroke deeper than the one before.
“Eventually we have to move…”
“Yeah… Just… Not yet, okay?” Well, I’m in no hurry. Hood of the truck has adjusted against my back, and I have warm Logan-blanket spread all over me. Life is good.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000