He’s sleeping now, despite the damn sunlight streaming in the window.
When he hadn’t shown up at her door to collect her for lunch, she’d come looking for him. She’d knocked, really she had, and then popped in, expecting him to be grabbing one of his flannel shirts or lacing up his brogans. Now she’s afraid she’s addicted to the sight of his naked body, swallowed by the sun. Every line is pulled into sharp relief, from the top of his head down to the puddle of blankets he’d kicked off in his sleep. One foot was still tangled up in sheet, buried up to his calf in folds and pleats. The sight of that innocence does something to her stomach and she has to turn her gaze elsewhere, before she’s overwhelmed.
His face is a study of bright and dark and the sun picks out hints of gold in his dark, unruly hair. A pool of light is captured in the hollow of his throat. His chest rises and falls, slowly; evenly and she can’t help but let her eyes skate farther down, swallowing hard at the crisp, wiry hair that trails below his navel to the thicker patch at his groin. A stray, giggly thought makes her clap a hand over her mouth but she still can’t help but wonder if he has a nickname for his penis.
She knows she’d call it ‘marvelous’ but he might not want to know that.
“See somethin’ you like?”
She jerks her eyes back up to meet his, the hand over her mouth clutching convulsively. She thinks her skin is just going to erupt from the blush. A gargled sound makes its way past the cage of her palm as he blinks at her, his heavy-lidded eyes half-shut but still rich with deviltry.
“‘Cause if y’do,” he says, his grin just a smidge away from being evil, “we can skip lunch an’ go straight to dessert.”
With a rebel yell, she flings herself into his open arms.
If she has her way, they’re not gonna make it to supper or breakfast, either.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Based on D.M.E.’s challenge to take the first line of one of her stories and write my own drabbly-thing around it. This’s what she gets for referring to my muse as ‘piffle’. *weg* Oh, word to Billy Idol.