Strong arms wrapped around me, pulled me into a warm, hard body while a shower of rain fell on us both. The drops were cold and I felt myself move closer to his body, snuggling into his chest.
"I'll take care of you," he said.
"Promise?" I mumbled into his chest, already feeling his heat envelope me.
"Yeah," he assured in a gentle tone. "Yeah, I promise."
As he said that, a light snow began to fall. We hugged each other fiercely, trying to keep the cold at bay.
"Come on," he growled, pulling me after him.
I followed wordlessly.
We ended up in a small cabin in the middle of the woods. I didn't ask how he knew about it. This was his territory, and I wasn't going to question him.
He must've known the place intimately, for he knew right where to go to find towels to dry us.
I moved to dry my hair while I watched him kneel before a small fireplace. Within a minute he had a fire going.
I was like a moth, instantly attracted to the heat and the light produced by the fire. He turned to look at me as he poked a log into place. "My clothes need to dry. Would you mind.?"
"No," I answered quickly, startled that he'd make the request. "Go right ahead."
"Sure?"
I nodded dumbly. "Yes."
It was hard to keep my eyes averted as he undressed. I tried staring into the blaze before me, but his movements repeatedly averted my gaze as he disrobed.
Finally, I stopped pretending and stared openly, hoping he wouldn't mind such a display of admiration.
Cheeky bastard actually winked at me as he removed his shirt. Not that I'm complaining.
The scene took an enticingly long time to play out. He seemed to delight in watching me squirm as he pulled off each article of clothing slowly and deliberately. By the time he was in his trunks, I was breathing rather shallowly.
Suddenly, I got up and said, "Let's go swimming."
He scowled at the idea, but followed me out of the house, into the warm Mississippi day.
"Amazing, isn't it?" I asked.
"What is?" he wondered, half-smiling.
"This. It's so warm. I didn't know I missed it so much." I grabbed his hand in mine and pulled him down the street. It was reminiscent of his earlier action, but this was less urgent, more relaxed.
"Where we going?" he grumbled amiably.
"The creek. I told you. We're going swimming."
We walked very little before we found ourselves by the creek. I took my shoes off and luxuriated in the feel of the grass between my toes.
"We're swimming in that mud hole?" he complained. I loved him, but he could be a pain in the ass.
"Yes," I explained. "We're swimming in there." As I spoke, I removed my clothes and found I was wearing a swimsuit underneath. I spun around and smiled at him. "You like it?"
He growled in assent and pulled me to him. Before I knew it, I found myself tossed into the creek. As I sputtered and shrieked bloody murder, he ran and dove in beside me, creating a big splash that covered me up again.
We splashed each other and laughed, and chased each other, and had the best time I can remember having. Finally, when we tired of the games, we made our way out of the water and onto the grassy shore, content to be dried by the hot sun.
"You having fun?" I asked.
I heard him mutter something about showing me just what fun was, when he rolled me over on top of him. Our bodies were connected, our legs intertwined. I sighed at the feeling this evoked: a deep satisfaction and fulfillment. I moved to pick some grass out of his hair and he just smiled. I love to see him smile. "Are you happy?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. I'd never been so happy.
He leaned forward and put his lips on mine, softly at first, tentatively. His mouth was warm and gentle as he slowly moved it across mine. I felt his hands move to my back, drawing lazy circles across it. We kissed like that for a little while until his hands became more insistent, grasping at my waist. My fingers twined in his hair, pulling him, his mouth, more deeply into me. I felt his tongue brush across my lips and I opened them, allowing him in. The sensation of his tongue on mine burned me completely, and I felt the need to grind my hips into his. He groaned with the movement, moving his hands from my waist onto my backside, grabbing and kneading the flesh through my swimsuit. I couldn't get enough of his kisses so, when he removed his mouth from mine, I groaned in protest. The sound turned into something else when his mouth moved down my neck and onto my chest. His breath was hot, sending shivers down my entire body. I felt him lick the hollow of my throat, and move down, slowly but oh so surely, over the flesh above my bikini top. "You're a little salty," he drawled, right before running his tongue over the sensitive flesh.
I chuckled, the sound uneven and hoarse. "Is that bad?"
He moved the fabric of my top off of my breast, glanced up at me and said, "No" before taking my breast in his mouth.
I stopped breathing altogether. All I could feel was my rapid heartbeat, his wet, hot mouth sucking on my flesh, and the insistent ache that was growing in the pit of my stomach. That dull ache, that need, settled in the place between my legs, and I ground against him again in an effort to relieve the pressure.
His mouth left my breast and instantly found its way to my mouth, even as his hand moved to the point that was causing so much exquisite pain. I sucked in my breath when his hand - his magical hand - found its way underneath my suit.
He was murmuring into my ear - warm, moist air streaming in with his words. I heard him say, "God, Marie, you're so beautiful. God, baby."
His hand and his words and the warmth of the day and the feel of the moist dirt underneath my knees.It was enough to drive me crazy. "Logan," I whispered, my voice husky and strange to my own ears. "Logan." I closed my eyes, too far gone to see anything straight.
"Rogue," I heard him call out. He sounded so far away. "Rogue!"
"Logan."
"Rogue!" A cry, near and clear and loud enough to thrust me back into reality with a force I didn't expect. Of course, I wasn't expecting reality.
But there I was, in my bed, covered from head to toe in my blanket; a perplexed-looking - and fully clothed - Wolverine lay by my side. It was enough to make me want to cry.
I didn't.
Instead, I looked away from him and took several steadying breaths, my heartbeat not quite at its normal rate.
"You all right?" he asked. He looked genuinely concerned. And not a little bit curious.
My mouth was so dry, I could barely get the words out. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just. I was having a nightmare, I guess."
Eyebrow raised, head tilted, he replied, "Nightmare?" He didn't look convinced. It made me wonder just what I'd done in my sleep.
"Yes."
He nodded. "Okay. What was it about?"
I was still sleepy - and very aroused - and I couldn't believe I was having this conversation. "Why?"
"Well, I once heard if you tell someone what your nightmare's about, then it won't come true." He sounded like a father trying to comfort his little girl. Oh, god.
I promptly snorted. "That's ridiculous, Logan. Go to sleep." It's what I fully intended to do. Maybe I could get back to my dream.
"Rogue," he said, just as I was drifting back into unconsciousness.
"What?" I muttered, fighting a losing battle with sleep.
The next thing he did had me fully awake. I was trying to get back to the Mississippi creek when a rush of cool air surrounded me. I opened my eyes with a start, realizing that my blanket had just been stolen. The culprit? The clawed bandit.
"Logan, just what do you think you're doing?"
"It's 2am, Rogue. I haven't slept a wink and you were thrashing around your bed like a maniac." His face was dead serious. "You're going to tell me what that dream was about."
I turned away from him, hugging myself into a little ball. "No, I don't think so."
"Rogue." he warned.
"No way, Logan. It's none of your business."
He moved towards me, quickly placing the blanket over my body, pouncing on me so that he was on top and I was left to face him, trapped by my own blanket. "It's my business, darling, if you're calling out my name."
"Your name?" I squeaked.
"Uh huh."
Shaking my head, I replied, "You must have misheard me."
"I don't think so." He was smiling now - a predatory smile.
I exploded. "What do you want me to say, Logan? That the dream was about you? All right. I was having a sex dream about you. There. That was my dream. Nightmare. Whatever."
He smiled, a full-fledged smile that reached his eyes and made them twinkle. "Good."
"Good?"
"Yeah."
I shook my head and half-smiled, despite myself. "Geez, Logan. What am I going to do?" And then I remembered what I'd been about to tell him, before my lame come-ons and the whole Jean debacle. The thing I'd been afraid to admit to him, and to myself. If loving Logan from afar was scary, this information was scarier. "I've got something to tell you."
The smile slid from his face at the tone of my voice. "What?"
I inhaled deeply. "Brace yourself, Logan. I don't know if this is good or bad news. Maybe it's both."
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