She slips into my room and I know right from the beginning how it's going to end. She smells like vanilla and rum, and that sweet scent that only belongs to her. She knows that she has me on my knees and that's right where she wants me.
I puff on my cigar and watch the smoke filter out of the dark room through the window.
In the dark our actions are just dreams, and the words we exchange are only whispers of the wind - so when the sun rises nothing has changed except the day.
The tiny amount of moonlight that has creeped through the blinds makes her body glow as she pushes her leather pants off her hips. Her skin is deathly white and I wonder if it's always been that way. She steps out of the pants and grabs the hem of her white tank top, pulling it over her head and throwing it to my bedroom floor.
I watch her as she unclips her hair and it falls like a shampoo commercial around her face. These are the moments I wonder if I'm dreaming.
When she's standing in the middle of my room, as beautiful as an angel.
She walks towards me and reaches out a gloved hand, grabbing my belt buckle and pulling me against her nearly naked body. I wonder idly about that Drake kid - I wonder if he has any idea where his girlfriend sneaks off to at night. But the thought leaves as quickly as it came as her velvet covered hand runs down my arm and snatches my cigar right from between my fingers.
She takes a drag and blows the smoke above our heads, then stubs it out in the ashtray on the table next to us.
Her arms snake up around my neck and she presses her head to my chest, a gentle hug that I'm never usually blessed with. She makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a cry, so I grab her bare shoulders and hold her at arms length.
I start to ask her if she's ok, but she holds two fingers to my lips and quickly replaces them with her mouth.
It's like a fire alights in my mouth and spreads to every nerve in my body. I grab her hips and lift her against me - she gasps and breaks our kiss, throwing her head back as she grinds herself against me.
"Logan," she whimpers, reaching down and groping at my belt. "Please."
Her voice vibrates inside me and I can't do anything but groan as she presses her hand against the crotch of my jeans. I carry her over to the edge of the bed then drop her to her feet, she's already flushed and breathing heavy and it drives me wild.
Before I have time to think she tears my shirt over my head and rips my belt off. I growl and she lets herself fall backwards onto the bed.
For a moment everything stops and I can't comprehend why she thinks I'm worthy of her.
Time speeds back up and she's laying on my bed, bra and panties of black lace tempting me with lies that this will last forever. She looks up at me, her eyes clearly wondering why I've hesitated.
"Logan?"
I try to answer but the words don't form in my mouth, at least not the right ones. She crawls back over to me and grabs my hand, pulling me down onto the bed with her. She scales my body like she's climbing a mountain, and as her mouth passes my erection she playfully flicks her tongue over me and smiles.
I groan, trying desperately to fight the urge to hold the back of her head. She moves up and straddles my hips, pushing herself against me. My hands move from her hips to her back and I skillfully unhook the clasps of her bra, pulling it off her and adding it to the pile of clothes next to the bed.
She grins and moves off me for less than a minute as she removes her panties. I close my eyes and my breath hitches in my chest as she slides herself on top of me - until she's full and I'm inside her to the base. When I open my eyes she's hunched over, her velvet hands pressed firmly against my chest as she holds herself up.
I touch my hand to her face and she looks up slowly, tears gathering in her eyes. "Marie?"
She smiles as droplets fall on my stomach. "I'm fine - I'm fine."
I bury my hands in her hair and she starts moving her body against mine, every movement searching for a familiar rhythm. I grab her hips once again and help her along, her moaning turning rapidly into panting. My body moves with hers as we finally find ourselves - the symphony of whispers and gasps is where we find each other every night.
I roll us over and she wraps her legs around my back, her heels digging roughly into me, her hands reaching above her head and grasping onto the headboard. I look down and she has her eyes closed tightly, her lips slightly parted and dry with her frantic breathing. Still thrusting myself inside of her, I lick my lips and kiss her. She bucks underneath me and muffles a scream into my mouth.
I pull my mouth away from hers and when I look again her mouth is swollen and red, but the dry parts have been kissed away by my lips.
We're moving so fast, with such urgency, the headboard is slamming against the wall loudly, but the noise seems to be so far away - everything but her seems so far away.
As I feel myself growing closer to release, I marvel at the way she feels. She's all around me and we fit perfectly - like God Himself molded us to compliment each other. It's scary to think its real, that all the coincidences were meant to happen this way. That she was at that bar in Laughlin City, that I somehow cared enough to risk my life for her when I had never cared about anyone before, that out of all the world I would be the one who changed so that her deadly skin would pose no threat to me.
My mutation changed. My skin built it's own protective shield against hers - and suddenly I was the only person in the world she could touch.
And yet..she still wears the gloves.
Underneath me she arches her back and screams, raking her fingers down my back - and I growl ferally, possessively, as I empty myself into her. My arms give way and I collapse on top of her, I know my weight is unbearable, but somehow she handles it long enough for me to regain my strength and roll off of her. I can feel her hands brush along my stomach. Her feather light kisses, as soft as silk, against my shoulder. Her bare legs tangling themselves around mine.
"Why do you wear the gloves?"
I'm not sure why I ask. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment.
She looks up at me, her eyes reflecting the little light seeping through the window. "I don't know. I feel safe with them on, like.."
"I'd never hurt you."
"No, I know. I meant, it makes me feel - I just, I feel like if I keep them on... I won't hurt you," she whispers, leaning her head down against my chest. Her hair shading her face from my eyes.
"Hey." My voice is nothing but a breath, but she hears me. "Darlin', you could never hurt me."
I bring her hands to mine and slowly peel off her gloves. "See," I say, intertwining my fingers with hers, "I'm fine."
She smiles against my chest and grips my hand tightly. "I see."
I know one day, when she's older and she's ready, she'll leave that Drake kid. I know there will come a time when she won't have to sneak into my room at night, just to feel her skin against mine. One day we'll have a life - overflowing with school lunches and anniversary cards.
And I'm willing to wait for it, but for now all I can do is watch her leave.
I pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and she folds her bra and shoves it into her back pocket, "No reason to put it back on," She says, "I'm just going down the hall."
I nod and chuckle, probably the saddest chuckle I've ever let escape my lips. "I want you to stay."
"I want me to stay, too." Her voice is hoarse, and even though I can't see - I know she's about to cry.
I brush a piece of hair behind her ear and kiss her forehead, my mouth lingering longer then necessary against her skin. "Someday."
"I know." She pulls away and sighs - and she leaves my bedroom door open behind her when she leaves.
I close the door quietly, lock it, then lean heavily against the frame.
Someday there won't be any goodbyes.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
Thanks so much to Mercy, Erin, and Tina for being great betas!