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Author's Chapter Notes:
The plot thickens! Plus I think many of you may be getting what you've been waiting for!

Suggested listening: "Snowfall Kind of Love" by Ingrid Michealson

Won't you bury me in your quiet love?
Oh bury me in your quiet love
Oh bury me in your quiet love
And we will blow away
The smell of dry, crisp air gradually roused Logan from his slumber, toes stretching and curling leisurely as he took inventory of each and every sleepy muscle on his body. Limbering up slowly was one of his favorite ways to start the day, especially when he actually felt comfortable in his surroundings. Normally that either meant he was so drunk or hungover that he didn’t give a damn, or well laid. This, however, was different. Scratchy flannel rubbed against his whip-cord lean stomach, abs tensing as tips of soft as silk brunette hair tickled his tan skin.

His nose whuffed delicately along the arm that Marie had strewn up behind her head. Her pale skin and rosy red lips looked ravishing in the early morning sunlight that trickled through the wooden blinds and dusty curtains, motes dancing on sunbeams to kiss her cheeks.

“Mmmm....” Marie mumbled in her sleep. He felt her bare legs slide up against his sweat pants and socks, knew that if he peeked beneath the covers he would see chipped, plum toenail polish atop toes, that led to ankles, knees, thighs, and oh...

Damnit he was hard.

Which reminded the Wolverine of his favorite way to wake up. Inside a woman. Logan railed against the Wolverine, desire for Marie colliding with the need to go slowly, to not mess up this feeling of safety, closeness, companionship, and love. Things that Logan had never had, or did not remember having, and thus they were all the more valuable, precious, even.

Marie’s breath hitched and sped up, her heart beat fluttering like her eyelids as she blinked in the bright sunlight. Logan feigned sleep, watching her stretch, a deadly, thin, pale expanse of stomach peeking from beneath the long nightshirt. Sleep tousled, Marie looked like a goddess, her hair crimped and curling alluringly as she turned to look at him, cheek resting on her gloved hand and wrist which lay gently against the pillow.

“Logan...,” she whispered, lips hovering over his sideburns, the hairs gently twisting underneath her breath. “Wake up.”

Gloved fingers slid up his bare chest and arms. Lips brushed quickly once, twice, then slightly longer on his lips. It was everything he could do not to flip her underneath him...and her hand was, oh God her hand was suddenly sliding into the hem of his pajama pants.

And she froze there, inches away from grasping him. He could barely continue his charade, but moving now would only startle her. Hands pressed on either side of his chest, and Marie slid one leg over his pajama clad hips. Through his eyelashes he watched her straddle him, he could barely breathe when he caught a glimpse of her plain, cotton panties in the early morning light.

“I know you’re awake.” Marie whispered, letting her hips rock against his straining erection.

Logan’s eyes opened slowly. Marie’s fingers were trailing along the lapels of his shirt, and with lithe little finger twists, button after button came undone. The creamy swell of her breasts made him salivate, and his hands reached up to grasp her hips through the worn flannel fabric.

“Listen, Marie,” Logan murmured as she wiggled distractingly on his lap, “I don’t wanna rush you into anything...” his remaining words were swallowed by a quick, breathless kiss from Marie.

“Sugar, I think it’s painfully obvious,” Marie teased, dragging her hands across her chest to expose her breasts fully, “That I’m just a little crazy about you.”

Then she kissed him again, just as quickly, but teeth nipped his lower lip, making the Wolverine purr. His hands fisted in the fabric of her shirt, and he gently thrust upwards, his member dragging upwards and across Marie’s nether regions, a small gasp of pleasure slipping from her lips despite the fabric between them.

He rocked into her again, the Wolverine growling in pleasure at the sight of her breasts bouncing lightly above him. He could smell Marie’s arousal pouring over him in waves, and suddenly he wanted more than just fabric on fabric...god he wanted to be inside her, to feel her...

“Ma...rie.” Logan growled as she gyrated her hips slowly, eyes rolling back into his head. This was better than passing out from making out with her in the kitchen...this was...mindblowingly...was that a condom in her mouth?

Sure enough, Marie had tugged a little foil packet from the front pocket of his flannel shirt, one eyebrow raised suggestively at him. “Is this your lucky shirt?” she giggled. She tousled her hair, and the smell of her overwhelmed him. He reached up like lightning and snatched the packet from her.

“I dunno darlin’, you’re the one wearing it,” Logan teased, “Maybe you’d like to get lucky?”r32;
“Oh, yes, please.” Marie whispered.

With that, Logan flipped Marie onto her back, careful not to touch any of her bare skin as his fingers teased her core through her practical underwear. One claw sliced a very convenient hole into his sweat pants as Marie opened the foil packet with practiced ease.

“What, did you think I was a virgin?” she purred, one eye lustily winking at him.

“Baby, I know you’re a virgin.” Logan said, “which is why we’re gonna do this slow and easy.”

She flushed as he slipped the condom over his well equipped package, and Logan couldn’t help but love those pink cheeks, feathering them with kisses, then his mouth laved at her nipples through the textured flannel, each sigh he tugged from her making him quiver with anticipation. His fingers hooked lightly in the thin pieces of fabric that kept her underwear up, tugging it down until she was able to kick the slight piece of clothing over the half-wall and into the great room below with a throaty giggle.

And then, her hand closed over his member, guiding him to her...

“Are you sure?” Logan whispered, sweat dripping in a faint sheen across his upper body, he could smell her nervousness. Unintentionally, his tip slid across her heated center, and she bucked against him uncontrollably.

A whiff of something that might have been anger, or frustration swept across his senses as Marie rocked into him, dragging herself across his painful erection. “Dammit, Logan, if you don’t hurry up,” she threatened, panting.

That crooked grin she adored so much shot across Logan’s face, and then he slid into her without warning, gently stretching her until he was buried as deep as he could go. His hips quivered and his breath caught in his throat. He felt her wince in pain, her inner muscles twitching around his cock.

He wanted to give her longer to accommodate his size and girth, but then he felt her hips tentatively rock into his, her pleasure center dragging across the rough elastic edge of his sweatpants, making her squeeze him unintentionally as she let out a breathless combination of his name and omigosh.

It was all the incentive Logan needed. He thrust into her, gently at first, each stroke stretching her. Her gloved hands clenched his biceps, her head thrown back against the pillows. Logan added an upwards twist to his thrusts, each time he withdrew hitting a spot that made Marie buck wildly.

Slowly and carefully, while steadily increasing rhythm of his thrusts, he slid one finger to Marie’s folds, rubbing her until that familiar electric jolt shot up Marie’s nervous system from the tips of her toes to the tip of her chocolate colored waves. Her back arched off the bed, legs gripping his hips tightly as she let out a breathless scream, her climax washing over her and dragging him with her as he finished, almost catatonic moments later.

“Holee...Logan...wow...,” Marie mumbled, as he withdrew from her slowly. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her hands stroking his arms as he leaned in to steal an electrifying kiss.

Distracted as he was with his hands fisted in her hair, Wolverine barely had time to catch a whiff of the intruder standing in their loft. Leaping backwards, he unsheathed his claws with a feral roar, crouching over his freshly ravished lover like some territorial animal. Marie pulled the sheets up, face flushed as she pinned herself against the head board behind Logan.

“Who the fuck are you?” the Wolverine spat out, every nerve in his body screaming ‘danger’ at the sight of the lithe, tattooed covered youth leaning against the half-wall. Black ink swirls spread from his finger tips to his shoulders, crossing his chest, up his neck, and onto his face. The sides of his scalp were shaved, a messy ebony mohawk like top knot trailing down his back. He only wore lycra running pants stuffed into well worn combat boots. His eyes were the same shade as Logan’s.

“Don’t you recognize me?” the stranger spat, and Wolverine tensed as three bone claws slid from his adversary’s hands, two from the knuckles, one from the underside of his wrist. “I’m Daken, Wolverine, your only son.”
Chapter End Notes:
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