Logan could hear her swiftly coming down the hall towards his room. She was traveling at a pace that suggested she longed to run, but was restraining herself to a brisk walk. As he anxiously breathed in her scent, he smelled her hurt and vulnerability. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at something like this happening tonight, he thought to himself as he laid down the latest issue of Popular Mechanics. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be a teenager; hell, who knows how long ago that could have been, but he spent enough time around adolescents nowadays to be able to figure out how they operated.

Tonight was the school’s Winter Solstice dance, and, judging from past mixer nights he had witnessed, there was sure to be at least some teenage heartbreak. He had begun to refuse to chaperone the dances. The bustling crowds of high school aged mutants always produced enough pheromones to make his senses dizzy, and the liberal amounts of perfume and cologne some of them splashed on for these occasions only served to send his olfactory glands into a tailspin.

Lately, however, the main reason he couldn’t stand to chaperone the older students’ social events was because of her. He could, if he had to, bare hearing the obnoxious music blaring through the speakers. He could, if he must, tolerate watching the youths make fools of themselves as they rubbed up against each other in what they called “dancing.” And, he could even take the smells of wild hormones and cheap perfume if his back was against the wall.

But, he could not stand watching her. Smelling her. Listening to her laughing, seeing her smiling at, sometimes even embracing, the boys her age. He had always known, ever since sharing that ride out of Laughlin City, that boys, and later men, would fall for her some day. Her angelic face combined with her quiet assertiveness had made him fall in love with her a little right then and there as he gave her his jerky to munch on. But, it was a different love than he felt now. Before he had wanted to be there for her. Now, he wanted to be there with her. The difference was subtle, but undeniably there.

Her footsteps, a bit quicker now, were closer. He sat up as she flung open his door; she rarely knocked, knowing she was always welcome. It was an established habit that had taken root when they had first arrived at the mansion together. Yet, as she had grown up before him, he found himself more concerned with knocking before entering her room, not wanting to intrude on her feminine mystique.

She closed the door behind her and walked over. She was wearing a white, strapless dress, fitted at the top, and flaring out gently at her waist. Her signature gloves and scarf were the same snowy white.

Her face would have given her away if her scent hadn’t already. Tracks of tears ran down her face. She wore little make up, but the small amount of mascara she had twirled onto her long eyelashes was smudged a little at the corners of each eye. Her full, rose colored lips were in full pout as she halted before him, sniffing a little.

“Rogue, what’s going on? Why aren’t you down at the dance?” he asked, although he thought he had a pretty good idea why.

“It…it’s Bobby,” she sniffed, “he…I…we got in a fight.”

“About what?” His eyebrows furrowed. He personally wasn’t a fan of the Iceman. As far as he was concerned, he was only good for one thing, and that was instantly chilling beers. But, he knew Rogue was enamored with him, and so he tolerated his sub-zero presence.

“He really wanted to…but I’ve been so worried to…I mean, after the last time. It was so awful, I never wanted to feel that again. I mean, I guess I should have expected it, it was the same way with St. John,” she continued, clearly flustered.

Ah, yes, St. John. She had come running to him after that ended, too. She had sobbed on his shoulder that she was sure no boy would ever like her, much less love her, again. He had consoled her as best he could. Restraining himself as he assured her that boys one day would be lining up around the corner for her, and any boy who couldn’t see why was a jackass. He had held back on saying that, if he had his way, he would be first in that line. Hell, there wouldn’t be a line after he was done.

“What are you saying, darlin’? What did he want?” Then, as if a light bulb went on, he stiffened. His claws itched to be let out, but he stopped himself. He had always been more than willing to protect her from others who might want to hurt her. He had been enraged when she had been physically threatened that night in NYC. But, he had come to learn that it wasn’t just physical harm he wanted to protect her from. He continued, “That asshole didn’t try anything did he? Because if he forced…”

Rogue cut him off, “No, no, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t…physically force me to do anything. He just was really…he wants us to be like every other couple our age, and he’s upset because we can’t. And it makes me upset, too.” Tears were beginning to leak out again. Logan longed to brush them away for her.

“You should never let someone make you feel that way, kid. He should have known from the get-go what was up. You’re worth more than…” again, he was cut off.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said exasperatedly. The tears had halted. Instead, she looked annoyed, angry even. He sniffed slightly; he could still sense her hurt, but there was a slight sense of indignation now. She continued, “I get upset, sure, because he’s upset, but I’m involved in the thing too, and no one seems to stop and think that maybe I want to do certain things too!” She stopped, and Logan noticed a faint tinge of red around her ears.

“What things, Rogue?” he asked. Again, he felt certain that he knew the answer to this as well, but he could scarcely believe those pristine pink lips would mention such acts. Jesus, he thought to himself, stop putting her on such a pedestal. She’s Rogue, not Aphrodite.

“Oh, Logan, come on, you know what I’m talking about,” she replied looking both embarrassed and miffed that he seemingly wasn’t catching on. He only raised an eyebrow in response.

She huffed. “I want to be kissed. Without having to worry about sending the guy into a coma. I want to be in a guy’s arms and not have to freak out that I’ll hurt him or that he’ll be too occupied by my skin to notice my being there. Jesus, I want,” she paused, as if to steel herself, “I want to have sex.” Logan’s eyebrows shot up. He was suddenly feeling quite warm, and he knew exactly why.

She went on, “I know that’s not something I’m supposed to say out loud, but it’s true. And if I can’t say it in front of you, who can I say it in front of?”

Logan’s head was a jumble of thoughts. His girl, the girl he had picked up off the snowy roadside and cared for really had grown up. His own gutter strewn mind was rife with steamed, salacious thoughts day in and day out, but he was the Wolverine. He was a man. It seemed only natural that he be so preoccupied with notions of the opposite sex, sprawled, waiting, and eager. To hear that she, too, thought of these things, and yearned for them blew his preconceived notions.

Almost before he could reel his thoughts back in, he found himself dropping her in frames of his own fantasies. Instead of the faceless redhead lying spread across his mustang, it was Rogue. Instead of the busty blonde from the bar the other night allowing him to slice off her remaining garments, it was Rogue. And he realized he had subconsciously been doing it for a long time. He gazed hungrily at her, his eyes taking in her long, lustrous chestnut curls swirled in white, no doubt set for the dance. Her simmering eyes. Her shapely breasts, having grown and filled out since they had first met, stirred appreciation and want in him. He stared at her perfect mouth, and realized she was still speaking.

“…didn’t hurt quite as much when St. John blew me off because I knew we weren’t right for each other, but I really thought with Bobby it was different. He would take the time to realize things had to be different with me, ya know? I mean, I wanted to take things further, too, but I don’t know if I actually can. And then I saw him dancing with her tonight…”

“Huh? Who?” Logan tried to snap out of it and pay attention.

“Kitty. He said they were just friends, but his hands, Logan, they were all over her. All over her. Because they could be. And when I confronted him about it, he just gave me this look. I guess he had just hit his wall. He was saying how he has needs and how I can’t…”

Logan interrupted, “What kind of needs could he possibly have, he’s a fucking 18 year old boy. He doesn’t have needs, he was wants. From what I can tell he can’t tell his needs from his wants from a hole in the ground.”

“Whatever, Logan! My point is that I wanted those things too, but I just don’t know how to go about…you know,” she drifted off. He started to smell something different on her now. The hurt was disappearing, and in its place was…he couldn’t believe it, arousal. For him? He decided to see how deep the well went.

“Rogue,” he said huskily, putting up a hand to her hair and wrapping a curl around his finger. “There are ways around your mutation. You just have to get…creative,” he got up from the edge of his bed and stood in front of her. He stepped toward her and looked into her eyes. He inhaled and noted that her arousal levels had spiked higher. He was going in the right direction. “If you want,” he took a deep breath, since when did the Wolverine get nervous in front of a woman? “I can show you.”

The beautiful girl in front of him responded by closing the distance between them. She slowly looked up and nodded her head slightly.

His heart beginning to pound-he could sense that her’s was as well- he glanced down and carefully undid the white, sheer scarf from around her neck. His mind started to wander into other scenarios where he could use such a scarf in other ways, but he reigned himself in and focused on draping the filmy fabric across her generous lips. He tilted her swathed face upwards, bent down, and bestowed a kiss which he had played over a dozen times in his mind. It was better in reality.

She leaned into the kiss with surprising intensity and reached up to wrap her gloved arms around his neck. He responded to her embrace by taking her fully into his arms, pressing her into him. He wondered if she could feel through the bunches of tulle under her dress his growing arousal making itself known in his crotch.

The scarf allowed their heat to pass through as their mouths opened and explored each others’. Her fingers reached into his hair, knotted themselves in it, and pulled gently. He felt her grin as they kissed and she yanked again, this time harder. He growled softly and she laughed a little before nipping and sucking at his newly exposed neck, tracing a trail of kisses across his jaw that eventually ended back at his hungry mouth.

He chanced placing a hand on her stomach, taut within the fitted part of her dress and slowly began moving it up, stopping when the tips of his fingers brushed against the bottom of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, which he took as signal enough to proceed. His hand continued its journey upwards, coming to rest on her round breasts. He massaged them gently at first, then more firmly as he gauged her reaction. She pressed her chest toward him, encouraging him in his ministrations.

Logan moved backward toward the bed until he felt its edge behind his knees. He sat down, pulling Rogue with him and letting her come to rest in his lap. What a picture they must make, he thought as they continued to stroke and kiss each other. Even though his true age was anyone’s guess, he looked like a 35 year old man in a flannel shirt and jeans, holding an 18 year old girl in a white party dress in his arms. The notion was enough to make him pull back and stop.

“Wha…why’d you stop?” she asked thickly, her eyes lidded with passion.

“Marie, are you sure about what you’re doing? What we’re doing?”

“Yes.” She stared at him questioningly.

“Well, I want to make sure. You’re so young, and I’m, well, I’m not.”

“Logan, I may have gone around with other boys, but I’ve wanted this for a long time now,” she said slowly, looking directly at him. It was all he needed to hear. He kissed her more fiercely than ever, as they came to lie back on the bed.

Logan rolled on top of her and continued to love her breasts. He pulled down the fabric that separated him from their rosy perfection and gazed at them before he slipped an edge of the evermore useful scarf over a nipple. His mouth was upon it instantly, rolling the bud gently between his teeth, eliciting moans from Marie who was apparently relishing this fresh, new sensation. He could sense her arousal growing steadily towards its peak and yearned to help it along. He didn’t remember his first time, but he wanted to make damn sure that she remembered hers and with fond memories.

He slipped a hand down her waist and up her dress, stopping at…another layer of tulle. Undeterred he withdrew his hand and snaked it up what he was sure was the true opening of her dress, only to find himself mistaken.

“Jesus, Marie, how many layers does this thing have?”

She laughed, “Not so many,” and guided his hand to the proper channel. Finally, he found himself at her heat. A quick swipe of his hand over her panties at once confirmed her wetness and brought a groan to her lips. Smirking, Logan stroked the swath of fabric again. He glanced around and saw a pair of leather gloves on his night stand. He fitted one on and, with an inch of claw exposed, cut aside the moist fabric of her underwear. He longed to feel her wetness against his skin, but until he got himself a different pair of gloves, this would have to do. He slowly slid his index finger into her core, savoring the moan he got in response. He withdrew his digit, then repeated the motion. Every sigh and moan from her caused him to swell with animalistic pride and lust, as well as cause swelling in more obvious places.

She was close, this he knew. To finish her off, he swirled his finger around and crooked it, making a “come hither” motion within her. He knew this would hit her right where she needed it most, in the g-spot of her folds. As he continued, he pulled a layer of tulle down across her swollen clit and bit down lightly. The combination of his mouth and finger working slavishly for her pleasure was enough. He felt her stiffen and heard her cry out. It was unintelligible what she moaned. He thought to himself, next time, it will be my name.

Logan climbed back on top of her and released the claws on his right hand, using his left to hold himself up off of her still heaving chest.

“How attached are you to this dress?” he asked.

Reading his mind, Marie smiled. “Not at all.”

Hearing what he needed to hear, he reached down and ripped. He ripped up through the layers of white tulle, up through the white, fitted bodice, and up through her white, strapless bra. The symbolism did not escape him.

All of his concerns about their May-September, possibly December, romance flew out the window when he was finally able to take in the extent of her beautiful body laid out on his duvet. He pushed the ruined dress aside and ran his gloved hands over her curves. Curves, which, until now, had lain hidden. Her full breasts, her wonderfully curved hips; he was staring.

Self consciously, she looked away and began to wrap her arms around her. He thought it was adorable.

“Marie, don’t,” he said as he unwound her arms. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

She looked at him with lust in her eyes. “I want to see you,” she said quietly.

“Darlin’ I gotta stay clothed if this is going to work.”

“Then just now, for a little. Please?”

How could he say no to her. To his girl. Because that’s what she was, he was coming to realize. He allowed her small, still gloved hands to unbutton his flannel and push it over his shoulders. They both sat up, kneeling and facing each other. He saw her staring at his muscular arms. She then surprised him by firmly grasping his singlet and literally ripping it off of him. He arched an eyebrow.

Smiling a little, she whispered, “I guess I’ve still got a bit of you in my system yet.”

She pushed him off the bed so that he stood in front of her as she sat on the edge and carefully undid his belt, button, and fly. He heard her breath in, and then felt her push his pant s down until they were at his ankles, at which point he stepped out of them.

She took him in appreciatively. He had seen that look in so many other womens’ eyes, and usually it gave him a small thrill, but this was different. He felt proud in an odd way. He wondered if it was the first time she had ever seen a man.

She stood up and came to move her hands experimentally over his chest and stomach. Her silky gloves traced the hair line down his abs, all the way down to his nether region, the sensation causing his engorged member to twitch slightly. Seeing that, she sharply withdrew her hand. He had to chuckle as he saw her eyes widen with surprise.

“What…it moved,” she whispered, in awe.

“Heh, yeah, it did. Don’t worry, they do that sometimes. It just means you’re doing something right.”

She smiled then, and her ears grew red as she realized her own silliness. Rogue continued her ministrations on his chest for a minute more before tentatively resting a hand on his cock. The contact made his breath hitch. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and began to slide them up and down. The coolness of her gloves against the heat of his erection forced moans from his mouth. She squeezed harder and drew a finger up the underside of his cock all the way to the top, where she rested and squeezed with her palm as if she were juicing a lemon.

Logan gasped at the sensations. “Damn, Marie. Where’d you learn all this?”

Marie smiled. “I’ve picked up some helpful hints here, there, and Cosmo.”

Logan allowed her to continue for a few more minutes until he couldn’t wait any longer. He motioned for her to lie back on the bed and he wrestled back into his jeans. Throwing on a long sleeved t-shirt, he walked over to his side table drawer and yanked out a condom. Standing once again in front of the bed and in clear view of the woman lying prone upon it, he ripped open the small square package with his teeth and rolled the condom over his length. Slowly, he crawled on the bed until once again he lay on top of her.

He looked down once more. She was so beautiful. So perfect. So untouched.

“Marie, are you sure you want this? Right now? It’s ok to want to wait,” he told her.

“No, Logan, I’ve waited too long. Please, I need you,” the clichéd line sounded anything but coming from her.

Logan positioned himself at her entrance, still wet from his attentions. He slid the tip of his head in, almost moaning at the moist tightness.

“Ok, darlin’, I’m gonna warn you: this is gonna hurt. And if you want me to stop at any point, just tell me.”

Rogue nodded, looking anxious, and at that signal he pushed his way in, tearing her virginity away. He looked down to see a tear sliding down her cheek, somehow escaping her tightly shut eyes. He lifted the scarf and lightly kissed her across her face.

“It’s ok, darlin’, it’s ok. It’ll feel better soon, give it a bit.”

Moments later, she finally adjusted to his girth and squirmed beneath him, experimentally bucking below. Her eagerness only excited him further. He pulled out a little and pushed back in. She moaned deeply. He pulled out a little further each time, testing to see how she was accommodating him. Before long, he was pumping in and out of her, relishing every sensation and every gasp, groan, and soft scream he heard from her.

“Oh…Logan, I’m so close,” she moaned breathlessly.

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Come for me. Call my name. Fuckin’…come for me,” he panted, close to the brink himself.

And, with that he felt her begin to tighten spastically around him. Her muscles constricted around his shaft, dragging him along with her, closer and closer to the edge.

Finally: “Logan.”

It wasn’t a porn star scream, it was a whispered gasp, but it was all he needed. With a deep, guttural moan, he came along with her.

Shaking, he rolled off of her and ripped off the fluid soaked condom. Good for more than one kind of protection, he thought to himself. He turned and looked over at the girl, no, the woman, he had just made love to. She was still flushed and breathing deeply. She turned on her side to look at him.

“Thank you, Logan,” she said, smiling.

He was unsure how to handle the situation. Usually he wanted his conquests to leave as soon as the deed was done, but he longed for Marie to stay. He had told her he was showing her how to get around her mutation, but now the idea of her taking his advice, as it were, and applying it to other boys was more than he could bare.

“Listen, kid, I don’t know how to say this, but…” Damn, only she was able to make him feel so nervous. “I just want to tell you that even though now you know it’s possible to…take part in certain activities without your skin getting in the way, I still don’t think it’s a good idea to waste it on that Ice douche.”

“I would never dream of it, Logan. I…I’m really happy you were the one to, you know, be the guy who…” her nose wrinkled in concentration. He fought the urge to bite it. “I’m glad it was you,” she finished.

“Me, too, kid.”

There was plenty they had to talk about, but there would be other times for that. For now, they were content just to lay side-by-side, basking in the after glow. Each one completely satisfied in all the ways a person can be.