The trouble started when she moved in across the hall. He lived in the wing of the mansion reserved for staff members, so naturally now that Marie was officially hired on, she was given a room appropriate to her position. Right across the damn hall.
He was used to the night noises of the rest of the team. The Institute may have been a school but it was also a residence for the members of the X-Men, most of who were in some kind of adult relationship or another. Next to Jean Grey, who could read minds, Logan was the only other mutant who had to be “selective” in his hearing when it came to what was going on in the rooms around him. Wasn’t his fault…his enhanced senses came in handy more times than he could count so on the few times he picked up on private sounds, like the bedsprings creaking in Scott & Jean's room or German murmurs from Kurt and Ororo’s quarters, he resigned himself to deal with it.
Then he began to hear noises directly across the hall. Soft whimpers. Moans. Tiny little gasps. Inaudible to the human ear…but easily heard by him. He started to enter her room with every intention of waking his friend from her nightmare, why else would she be moaning, except for a nightmare? But before he could say anything, before he could really even open the door the entire way, his nose registered the fact that the room positively reeked of sex.
Holy fuck.
The scent of sweat and musk with a salty sweetness hit him like a brick; it was the scent of a highly aroused Marie. Even though the evidence surrounded him like a cloud, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the truth. No nightmare. There was no nightmare. There was only Marie naked and Marie moaning and Marie smelling like sex.
There was no time for thinking; there was only the smell of sex and then the door shutting quietly, quietly oh so quietly releasing the latch so she wouldn’t know he had seen.
Had seen…
Like a mindless robot he backed away from the closed door and the breathless moans, only her, no accompanying male grunts~ thank God for small favors ~fleeing to his quarters across the hallway where he collapsed in a chair, his cock a bar of throbbing steel between his legs. It wasn’t enough, he could still hear her, God she was a noisy little thing. He waited like a martyr in the coldest shower of his life for over twenty minutes; plenty of time for the sounds to stop. Shivering and naked he slid into his own bed. The sounds across the hall had stopped but that didn’t mean they were forgotten.
Especially after they resumed the next night. Accompanied by a slight humming, buzzing sound.
She didn’t.
She did-
This time a cold shower didn’t work. It felt like he head a lead weight hanging between his legs even after dousing himself with ice water. His mind may have not been able to contemplate the concept of Marie as a sexual being but his body was not only contemplating it, it was standing up and applauding the idea.
“Fuckin’ traitor,” he growled down at his crotch, collapsing onto the bed. Out of habit his left hand drifted down to his cock, which lay heavily against his belly. It jerked at his touch and he sighed in resignation. Fine. Might as well. If he took another cold shower he was gonna wind up turning into a popsicle. A Wolverine popsicle with a permanent erection.
Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do, he mused, staring out the window as he stroked himself. Thought of a nameless blonde, faceless except for brilliant blue eyes and a red mouth open and waiting. Licking. Sucking. Swallowing. Logan grunted and closed his eyes.
And saw Marie, lying on her bed with her breasts heaving, sweating, a hand between her open thighs-
In the wake of that image he climaxed suddenly, fiercely, his ass clenching and stomach cording, his left hand now slick and sticky. He had to bite his free arm to stifle harsh groans that accompanied every wet rush of pleasure. Panting, his heart racing, his balls empty but his cock still hard in his fist, Logan growled, reaching for a towel. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time he had come that hard. Now that it was finished there was guilt about climaxing over a thought of Marie. She was just a kid, fer chrissakes.
A kid with a vibrator. And a tendency to cry out when she came.
The next morning no one complained of obscene noises, no one made any raunchy jokes. Marie was cheerful and smiling over her coffee, one of their time-honored rituals. Logan avoided all eye contact and only grunted a noncommittal response whenever her flowing chatter paused. He was sure a sign that said “I masturbated while thinking of you” was tattooed on his forehead and that if he opened his mouth farther than to sip his coffee he’d say something wrong and she’d know what he did.
Not that it stopped him from doing it again that night. He was lying in bed, exhausted from a grueling workout in the Danger Room, just drifting off to sleep when the buzzing started. Followed by her now familiar gasps of pleasure as the vibrator hit just the right spot-
He thought of Marie, in her bed across the hall, doing what she was doing, and he was instantly hard. Now there was only a moment’s guilt before he was reaching for the bottle of baby oil he kept in his nightstand, pouring it into his cupped hand to warm it before letting it drip down his cock. He squeezed it, slid his hand up and down and it was so slippery…just like how Marie would feel if she were riding him right now.
Logan liked to be noisy himself and Jesus Christ it was hard not to groan loudly as he pictured Marie, straddling him, her sex replacing his fist. On cue came one of her soft moans from across the hall, quiet enough that it fell on his ears only. It was too easy to close his eyes and imagine her in the room with him, on his king-sized bed, letting him watch as she pleasured herself. Another moan, softer, combined with the squeaking of her mattress and the buzzing of her toy. On her knees in front of him, naked, rubbing herself slowly, grinding her hips against a plastic cock-
He sped up, his breathing quick and harsh now, his teeth clenched as he fought to bite back his own moans. His hips bucked against his hand, his ass rising from the mattress, his thighs tensing as he felt the familiar tightening in his groin. Marie’s moans sped up, loud enough now that a passerby may have heard her. She must be really turned on, really close, to be so careless-
She whimpered, once, twice, and Logan knew she was coming. Coming against a plastic toy when it could just as easily been against his own cock.
That thought finished him, and he lost himself in his orgasm.
Again, guilt. But not enough to keep him wondering what she fantasized about when she masturbated, about what her face looked like when she came. Was she a virgin? Did fucking a vibrator count as having sex? She had to be a virgin ; she had never dated anyone seriously and the constrictions of her skin would have made sex nearly impossible. Not that Logan would let that stop him. He pictured nylon bodysuits, flowing silk, velvet gloves. Condoms would be a must but that was all right.
His eyes popped open and the afterglow of his orgasm dissipated. What was he thinking? He was thinking about having sex with one of his best friends. Sure, he was kind of being a voyeur right now but that wasn’t really his fault, he couldn’t help it if he heard her. A noisy partner, a beautiful girl, that kind of shit turned him on. But to actually contemplate joining her; that was out of the question. She was too young. Too innocent.
But not nearly as innocent as he had thought before she moved in across the hall.
Growling, Logan got up and slid into a pair of jeans and a shirt. He had to move, had to take a walk, had to do something that would take his mind from thinking about how easy it would be to open his door, take five steps across the hall, and open hers.
He couldn’t drive fast enough, he couldn’t drink hard enough, to get her completely out of her head. Instead of driving home drunk, he managed to pass out for a few hours on the bartender’s couch. They knew each other, it was okay. Logan woke up at ten, not so much because he was no longer tired as much as the couch left a wicked crick in his back and it was too painful to sleep anymore. He drove home, bleary-eyed and not any less anxious about the nighttime noise problem.
When he got back to the mansion, the kids were outside playing a massive game of capture the flag with Hank, who ambled over as soon as he saw Logan. Apparently while Logan was on his bender he had missed a distress call coming from a Canadian outpost, similar to their Institute but with a lot less frills. The X-Men had been dispatched to Quebec and Hank and Marie had stayed behind as babysitters.
“Where’s Marie?” he growled. A furry blue arm pointed in the direction of the mansion.
“She looked positively exhausted, I let her go back to bed for awhile.”
Logan sighed. Exhausted. Right. If only Hank knew why Marie was so tired…
He figured she was in her room, up to no good, but holy fuck this was ridiculous. The second he walked upstairs he could hear her, loud and moaning. She wasn’t making any pretensions about being quiet, not when she knew the team was gone and everyone was outside. Logan knew he should turn around and go back outside and play capture the flag. Train in the Danger Room. See if he could catch a ride to Quebec. Whatever. But he just couldn’t seem to do it. He crept down the hall, to her door, and froze.
It was open.
If he stayed in the shadows, if he stood at the right angle, he could see her. On her bed, naked, mouth open and gasping, one hand pinching a rosy pink nipple, one hand moving the vibrator in and out of her, holding it at just the right place to stimulate her clit.
He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn't help himself- one hand went to the snap on his jeans before raking the zipper down and grasping his hard erection. Wetness had already leaked out of his cock, he wiped it down the length before stroking himself. Feeling like an idiot standing in the hallway where anyone could see him with his pants down around his knees and his hand on his cock. He should have stopped but it was too much, she was too perfect there, on the bed, her hips pumping up and down, whimpers dropping from her throat. She was so beautiful and so wanton. She knew how her body worked, knew exactly where to stroke herself, where to pinch herself, to illicit the harshest moans and as he watched through the crack in the door, he shut his mind off from any guilt, focusing on this one act of true voyeurism.
For the first time her moans broke into words.
“Ohhhh Gooooooood yes. Oooooooooo right there, unnhhhhhhhhh! Fuck, harder…yes, Logan, mmmmmmmm-”
At the sound of his name he came uncontrollably , his semen spilling over his fist and onto the carpet, unable to stop the harsh groans as his balls emptied. Her name on his lips- “Unnhh! Fuck, Marie!”
Through a post-orgasmic haze he saw her switch off the vibrator and slide off the bed. She moved out of his line of sight in the small crack of the open door, reappearing right in front of him, as she jerked the door open completely naked and sweating, her thighs wet with her own orgasm. He felt like a kid caught by his mom with his hand down his pants, which, essentially he was.
He wanted to explain. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to find something to wipe himself off on so he could pull his pants back up.
Before he could say anything she spoke. “Bout ‘damn time, sugar. You were drivin’ me nuts with all that groaning and moaning you’ve been doing across the hall.”
Fuck. She could hear him, too?
She tapped her temple. “You’re up here, remember?”
From when she touched him. Shit, how could he have forgot.
He stood there, his pants around his knees, his left hand sticky and his mouth wide open as she unabashedly appraised him. Her eyes zeroed in on his still-hard cock and a smile plastered across her face.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she decided, grabbed him by the lapels of his leather jacket, and dragged him in her room. He shut and locked the door.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Thanks to karen, who beta'd the first bit. The rest I just shot off (no pun intended) without any beta-ing.