Sometimes Marie forgot that knowledge and experience were different things. Logan’s memory, Jean’s memory, Pyro, Bobby, a random trucker, a clumsy waitress … the line stretched right back to poor Cody Robbins, and several of those people had received blow jobs.
Jean, naughty girl, had given quite a few in her day, too. But seeing that, even feeling their emotions, wasn’t quite the same as being down on your knees in a shower cubicle, feeling the pulse of the man you love as his cock disgorged into your mouth.
Marie was thinking about that now, as she stood under the shower. She had opened the faucet to full, liking the feel of the water rocketing down on her over-sensitised skin. Her hair was clean, her body tingled – and her mind kept churning through the previous hour like a hamster on a wheel.
She hadn’t exactly liked it. She wasn’t comfortable on her knees – physically or psychologically – and her gag reflex would have preferred Logan wasn’t quite so well endowed. And then there was the semen.
Salty, viscous, warm. The taste was quite neutral, and as for the texture … well, now she knew why men wanted women to eat oysters. She might have called it disgusting if it hadn’t been for that surge of greed that demanded she swallow every drop and lick around the head in search of more. The compulsion had shocked her and she was still trying to understand exactly what had happened. She had felt … possessive? Proprietary?
And Logan. What was he feeling, right now? Was he even here, or had the shower drowned out the noise of the Harley as he dealt with the fast-developing relationship in his usual fashion?
He was embarrassed, she knew that. After demolishing several of the bathroom tiles as he came, Logan had raised her up and wrapped his arms around her in a full body hug. He had been shaking as they stood there, enmeshed, for long minutes. Then he cleared his throat and released her.
“Thank you, Marie. You shouldn’t have to do that for me, for anyone, but …” he stopped, obviously pushing up hard against one of his self-imposed boundaries.
“It’s OK, love,” she whispered, rising to tiptoe to speak directly into his ear. “A good girl never says it aloud, but … I always wanted to do that. To try. You taste good, Logan. You felt right in my mouth.”
And then there was that weird thing with your cum, she added mentally. What was that about, Mother Nature?
He had left her, then, to “find a few things downstairs”. His composure, most likely, Marie thought, as she stood under the stream of hot water. He was as shaken as she had seen him, and all through the power of one little blowjob.
Perhaps he’d thought about it before. There was a well of memory she kept cordoned off from herself. The way he thought about her and his reactions to her, especially those way back, before they became Logan and Marie. It was privacy, of a kind. She was tempted to peek and see whether he’d ever thought of her that way, fantasised perhaps.
No. This was a relationship. They would have to learn to communicate like any other couple. Talk, even.
“Hey Logan, did you used to think of me giving you a blowjob?” might not work just yet, she thought.
Drying on a man-sized towel of chocolate brown (he had good taste, she realised with a shock), Marie wondered whether to find something to wear and join him, or just … silk. Silk sheets on the bed. She towelled her hair to an acceptable non-drenched state, and then groaned with pleasure as she climbed between the ivory sheets. Silk. The world should be made of silk, because she was about to die with pleasure.
A quiet chuckle from the door alerted her to his return.
“Thought it was appropriate,” he said, nodding towards the freshly made bed. “Shame they’re not red.”
She grinned; sliding her arms and legs up and down as if she was trying to make a snow angel. “This is way more tasteful,” she pointed out. “Just right for a sophisticated woman like me,” she pouted, batting her eyelashes at him.
His chuckle turned into a belly laugh and he flopped down beside her. As the moment passed, they turned to face each other, eye to eye, and silent. They drank each other in, made love without touching. Vows without speaking.
Then it was time for words.
“I would look at you every day and think – one day. One day you would be done with school and the team and all this mutant rights crap and then, maybe, if you wanted that, you might be mine.” He lifted his hand, oddly naked without the claws, and traced her cheekbone, following it down and around to her lips.
She kissed the finger and made her own confession.
“I would think, one day, I’ll be grown up enough. But it was just about being brave enough. Being enough, basically. I had to earn you.” He went to protest and she hushed him.
“Not for you, but for me. I needed for me to be enough for you.”
“Then I had a revelation. I was enough. I was everything you needed. Wanted, even.” She didn’t need to tell him her revelation was in the pages of a book, or that sometimes she seemed to be channelling Mother Nature.
“So I came, and here we are.”
“Definitely enough,” he murmured, spearing a hand into her hair as he lowered his lips to hers. “More than enough.” His lips were slow and gentle, tasting their way around perimeter of her mouth and sucking her top lip into his mouth before his tongue delved inside hers.
Tasting became taunting and then thrusting as he rolled her over and stretched his length above her as they kissed. Marie felt Logan imprinting himself on every cell in her body: his cheek to her cheek, tongue to tongue, hands to hands. She wanted to lose herself in that kiss, drift off in a haze of delighted sensuality, but her body was starting to make other demands. Impatient baggage, it was.
He laughed as her moans turned into demands, but shut up quickly when she grabbed his hands and dragged them to her nipples, so hard and tight they hurt. They seemed to burrow right into his palms, and when he tweaked one between thumb and forefinger, the buck of her hips nearly dislodged him.
“This one’s obviously jealous,” he smirked, lowering his head to the opposite nipple. She held her breath as his mouth closed around it, and nearly passed into delirium as he used teeth and tongue to alternately savage and soothe the proud flesh.
It felt so good she barely noticed when his hand burrowed its way between her legs, and with a few gentle prods, spread her wide. Almost overlooked the gush of wetness that greeted him, and the smile that crossed his face. Might have complained when he lifted his mouth from her breast and kissed her sternum, then belly button.
“Oh.” His tongue inside her, playing. His teeth rasping, pulling a little.
“Oh my God.” His lips closing on her clitoris. Sucking.
“Oh my fucking GOD.” Teeth again. He sucked hard. Fucked her with his tongue. It was building, building.
“Please ...” she wanted something, but couldn’t quite remember what. Something important! But the wave …
“Please, Logan, pl..” she was close, so close, but this was Logan, and as the wave crashed over her, he just KNEW, and plunged into her, hard and fast and right down deep. And God, it HURT, but it hurt so goddamn beautifully and that wave was turning her over and over and over …
“Hi.” He was looking down at her, smug. She wondered if he came this time or had her moment of unconsciousness robbed him of that? Was it polite for the newly de-virgined to ask?
“Hey, sugar.”
“You’re mine now.” Serious face. Possessive. Her alpha.
She should argue, really. She’d claimed him, after all.
“You bet, sugar. Every last inch of me.” Her hand on his cock told the other story, though. Every last inch was hers.
*
She sat bolt upright, sleep having fled with a sudden realisation. He had been sleeping too, but this was Logan, and he was still able to cock an eyebrow in question even when dragged from the depths of slumber.
“A condom!”
He understood immediately, and the flush that crept over his face told her this was something that had never occurred to him. Never been a problem for him.
“God, Logan, where did you spend the 90s?” she snapped, annoyed. She knew he didn’t have to worry about disease, but how many little Wolverines might be running around with an attitude like that?
She swatted away the annoying voice that wanted to cheer at the thought of little Wolverines and focused on the fact that she was mad. Furious! Not just with him - she had braved the convenience store and managed to choose between ribbed, flavoured and contoured, and then proudly popped them into the miniscule red silk bag that had hung around her wrist … until she had taken it off to leave the car keys in, downstairs on the hall stand.
The hallstand! Had the sight of Logan’s bare chest fried the last of her brain cells?
“You’re not pregnant.” His voice was flat and unaccountably angry, but also very sure.
“How do you know? Even a pregnancy test wouldn’t be able to tell me yet!”
“Wrong time. You’re not ovulating.” He tapped his nose and smiled wearily. Marie stared at him and wondered how long she had managed to avoid that little nugget of information.
“So you know … huh. Handy.” She smiled, relaxed. And the image of little Wolverines came dancing back into her head.
She slapped it away. She had chosen her mate, but Mother Nature would have to wait for the rest of the equation. Marie pushed the debate away and snuggled into his side in a bid to go back to sleep. Her eyes had just drifted close when he spoke quietly into the darkness.
“I’d never force you to carry my children, Marie. No one deserves to have a monster inside of them.”
She reared up to look at him, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Tears did, though. Shock and sadness and the agony of realisation. So far to go. They had so far to go.
She had won the first battle, but forgotten she was riding into war.
*
to be continued ...
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks once again to SkyBlueRae for the beta.