Author's Chapter Notes:
 A/N: So I’ve taken a bit of a different approach  to Marie’s possession of Carol Danver’s powers. I feel that just because your skin is invulnerable, unless it’s solid metal like Colossus, then you can still get injured beneath the skin… does that make sense?  It’s a bit of a tweak on Ms. Marvel’s mutation.
 
Song for this Chapter: “Cowboy Cassanova” by Carrie Underwood (I think this song screams barfly that sees Logan, or an overwhelmed Marie!)
 
“He’s like a curse, he’s like a drug, You’ll get addicted to his love, You wanna get out, but he’s holding you down, ‘Cause you can’t live without one more touch.”
 Marie cursed under her breath when her hand encountered the hot burner on the gas stove.  Her invulnerable skin protected her from injury, but that didn’t mean that her nerves didn’t scream in agony beneath its protective shield. Despicably enough, her hand wasn’t the only thing burning. She rubbed her legs together uncomfortably, trying to soothe the aching fire that burned between them.
 
Preoccupied, she didn’t notice the tan arms sliding around her, brushing against her breasts to reach for the injured hand. She jumped, whirling, back pressed against the edge of the hot cook top. Hands grasped her waist and shifted her sideways before she could burn herself again, and cool butcher block countertop pushed uncomfortably into her buttocks.
 
“Clumsy,” Logan teased. His adamantium laced hips leaned against her, pinning her against the cabinets. She resisted the urge to pick him up with one finger and slam him into the floor, repeatedly.  Here she was, sexually frustrated as hell, making him dinner, and he had the balls to insult her! A little Wolverine-esque growl slipped from her throat, its feral rumble making her chest shake, arousal quickly morphing into anger.
 
“What’s for supper?” he asked, casual as hell. His hair was damp, swept casually into his favored, scruffy style. His sideburns had been groomed, probably with one of her disposable razors. He smelled deliciously of Lever 2000 and bland suave shampoo, a tantalizing fresh and clean combination that made her pulse pound just a little bit faster.
 
“Don’t you have better things to do?” she hissed, words laced with as much venom as she could muster.
 
Logan nonchalantly glanced toward the iced over window, his eyes burning with intensity.
 
“Actually,” he smiled, “I do.”
 
Keeping her pinned, he snagged an ice cube from one of the glasses behind her. Logan never understood why Marie preferred iced, sweet tea in the middle of a damn blizzard, but he was willing to permit her eccentricities. Careful to touch only her covered wrist, he tugged her burned hand towards his mouth, bare skin far too close for Marie’s comfort.
 
Her eyes watched his lips as he popped not one, but two ice cubes into his mouth. He yanked her hand closer, sliding the burning digit between the two ice cubes and his lips. He suckled gently, and Marie’s knees weakened dramatically. Everything Logan seemed to do exponentially weakened her ability to fight back. Unwillingly, a moan escaped from her throat, and she was unable to tear her gaze away from Logan as he watched the skin of her throat contract as she swallowed nervously.
 
Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, her other hand gripping his flannel covered bicep as if it were all that anchored her to the earth.  Wolverine howled in approval.  He desperately wanted her to be dependent upon him.  Only him.  For everything.  Pleasure, sustenance...life.  Not because the Wolverine desired ownership, because the Wolverine desired companionship, someone waiting, expecting his return…someone who wanted him.
 
The smell of smoke brought Marie back to reality, and her finger slipped from between the ice cubes, zapping Logan slightly.  He stepped back and shook his head dizzily, tension rolling off of him in waves as a panicking Marie attempted to salvage what had once been toast, preserves, and green bean casserole.
 
“Fuck!” she yelped, hand slamming down onto the butcher block.  Logan winced at the dent she left in the surface, a massive crack splitting the stained wood from stove to refrigerator.  Grimacing, she shook her hand vigorously. He could tell she had probably bruised a bone from the force of the blow.
 
“I just can’t keep you in one piece, can I?”  Logan grumbled irritatedly as she flipped the burners and broiler to low, then off.
 
Oven mitts on, she removed the casserole dish from the oven, the tops and edges blackened and burnt.  Her nose wrinkled uncomfortably, and scrunched up her freckles.  She gasped in pain as she held the heavy casserole dish in her bruised hand.  It slipped from her fingers, heading for a direct collision course with the floor.  Logan caught it bare handed, the scalding hot dish burning the skin on his hands.
 
“Sheee-it! That’s hot!” he growled as he gingerly placed the dish on the cracked counter.  Marie couldn’t help watching as she scraped the worst burned pieces off of the toast.  His blisters healed in moments, revealing fresh, pink, skin. Turning back to the toast, she had to concede defeat as it was far more burnt than she originally thought.
 
“Great, di…dinner’s ruined.”  Marie half-way sniffled, hand throbbing and tumultuous emotion threatening to get the better of her previous resolve.

 “Aw, damn darlin’, don’t cry.” Logan half-groaned.

Faster than lightning, Logan’s finger reached out to brush a lock of damp, sweaty hair from her face.  Her lower lip trembled slightly at the gesture.  He reached for a clean dishrag and used it to cup her chin gently. Marie stepped backwards and bumped into the counter, and his arms cupped her beneath her legging clad knees, lifting and pushing her to sit beside the ruined, burnt food.

Logan stood between her legs, his face inches from her own. Marie’s breathing was erratic, her mouth was bone dry. She was unable to look away as his tongue slid across his lips. His scent overwhelmed her senses as her heartbeat accelerated rapidly. Logan’s lips crept closer, and anxiety overwhelmed her. She gently placed her un-injured hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Wha...what about dinner?” she whispered.

“I want dessert first.” Logan rumbled, his chest vibrating.

“I’ve never been kissed, you know.” Marie murmured, cheeks flaming red.

“Then I better make it good.” he crooned.

Marie’s eyes fluttered shut as Logan placed butterfly-soft kisses on her eyelids, nose, and cheeks, each one lasting no more than a second. Finally. he trailed from her nose to her mouth. Gently, his lips touched hers, and she held her breath in suspense.

Then he moved against her, lips devouring, hands sliding up her back, crushing her into his muscular chest. He paused and moved back just as her mutation began to kick in, and she moaned in protest. Swiftly, he lunged in again, tongue moving in time with lips. This time, he waited until he felt that familiar, electric tug, pushing all of his thoughts and emotions into the brain-draining void.

Marie’s heart was an out of control avalanche pounding hard against his muscular chest. Her fingers kneaded his muscles, holding him gently as he shook off the mutation induced haze her power had produced. His hazel eyes looked straight into her own, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by emotion.

Not hers, the Wolverine...no, Logan’s.

Possession, passion, caring, desire, and need swirled around in her head like a tornado. Only one potent emotion, however, throbbed in time with her swollen lips and hummingbird heartbeat.

It was love.

Outside, the storm increased its intensity once more, snow piling into new drifts, pinning them inside the cabin. A dark, lurking figure slipped through the trees to steal around to the back of the house where a set of unused, boarded up storm cellar doors lay in disrepair. A keen nose pressed tightly against the seam, inhaling deeply, long, frozen hair falling into a feral face.

“Soon,” he whispered, “soon.” Then curled up to wait.
You must login (register) to review.