Once again, Rogue found herself in the mansion’s kitchen at an early hour. She used to love lying in bed on Sunday mornings, enjoying the rays of sunshine peeking through her blinds.

But now she sat at the kitchen counter under the less than enjoyable fluorescent lights poking at her cornflakes. She sipped at her coffee which she had made much stronger than she usually liked. She had had to: she had barely gotten any sleep.

In futile efforts to stave off the sex dreams, she had taken to waking herself up every time one of her dreams started to progress in that direction. And unfortunately for her, they all seemed to be doing that.

Rogue held her spoon up to her face. Despite the convex image it reflected back, she could still see the light shadows forming under her eyes. She threw the spoon back in her bowl of cereal in disgust.

“Ugh, what is wrong with me?” she mumbled to herself.

“Nothing that I can see, kid, talking to yourself notwithstanding,” came her answer.

She glanced up at Logan. “What? Why are you always down here in the mornings?”

He smirked at her over his shoulder as he grabbed his morning beer out of the fridge. “Well, darlin’, I don’t need that much sleep, and since you’ve been down here so early lately, cooking up all sorts of pork product, I figured…” he paused looking around. “What, no bacon this morning?”

Rogue rolled her eyes. Here she was, utterly exhausted, because of him, and all he could think about was bacon? I must really like him, she thought to herself. This man is the source of all my current problems and I still just want him to throw me on the floor and fuck my brains out.

“No, no bacon,” was all she said.

“Eh, well, you can’t have everything,” he said as he sat down next to her. “Wait a minute, backtrack, it looks like there is something wrong with you, kid. You look awful.”

Rogue glared at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“What? You’ve got inkwells under your eyes, Marie!”

“Logan, this may come as a surprise to you, but women don’t really like it when you point out how shitty they look.”

“Aw, kid come on, I’m only doing it out of concern for you,” he said, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter, didn’t you sleep very well last night?”

Rogue sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. These dreams…” She stopped herself before she said anything more. She wasn’t quite ready to tell him the dirty details.

Logan sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face. “Jesus,” he growled. “This is all my fault.”

Rogue stared at him. Could he know? Is that what last night’s charged wrestling match was about?

“I knew you were having the nightmares, but I had no idea they had gotten this bad. Aw, baby, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Rogue gazed at her coffee. Of course. His nightmares. She hadn’t had one of his nightmares in months and when she had they hadn’t affected her this badly.

“No, Logan, don’t worry,” she said softly. “It’s not your nightmares.” She didn’t want to explain further, so she mumbled something about having plans and left a confused and worried Wolverine in the kitchen alone with his beer.

*******

Rogue stretched as she got under her covers that night. She had been thinking about Logan and her dreams all day, and had come to the conclusion that she would, from now on, just roll with the punches, so to speak. After all, she had mused to herself, was there really any harm in having the dreams? It was ridiculous for her to try and tell herself she didn’t enjoy them. Hell, what red blooded female wouldn’t?

Happily resigned to this notion, she turned off her side table light and snuggled down and let sleep wash over her…

She was walking along the corridors of the mansion alone at night. Her thin nightgown billowing behind her, she padded along aimlessly. She eventually reached the kitchen where she stopped. Logan was sitting at the table, beer in one hand, cigar in the other.

“You’re not supposed to smoke those in here,” she commented, dragging her eyes over his body. When had he become shirtless?

“Yeah?” he challenged, raising a defiant eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said, “it’s frowned upon.”

“Well,” Logan began, as he took a puff, “I can think of a lot of things that I like doing that might be frowned upon here.” He then let the smoke drift lazily out of his mouth before standing up and moving to plant himself in front of her.

Feeling bold, Rogue tilted her face up towards him and asked in a low voice, “Like what, exactly?”

He leaned down and began to lightly kiss the base of her neck, working upward to her ear where he whispered, “I’d love to make you moan in this kitchen.”

Rogue shivered with excitement.

Logan drew her into him, planting brief kissed all over her face, neck, and collarbone. His arm that wasn’t busy knotting itself in her hair traveled down the front of her night gown, pausing to cup her breasts through the flimsy fabric. “I’d love to suck on each of your nipples, baby, until you’re on the brink,” he whispered.

His hand continued its journey south until it reached between her legs to find an area that was already warm and moist. “And darling’, I’d love to throw you up on this counter and eat your sweet pussy until you screamed my name,” he told her, lightly grazing her sex with his fingers.

“But,” he rumbled, “all those things might be frowned on here in this kitchen.” And he pulled away from her, his trademark smirk stretched across his face.

Rogue felt suddenly cold from his abrupt absence. She stood there panting, eyes darkened with want for the man standing in front of her.

“Fuck ‘em,” she whispered, and reached out to grab her man, who responded eagerly and began doing all he had promised…

Rogue moaned in her sleep, blissfully unaware of the man who stood in her doorway.

Logan had come to check on her that night, worried that his nightmares had begun to plague her again. It made him feel terribly guilty, and so he trekked down the hall to see if he could, perhaps, be of any comfort to her, since he knew from experience she was a great comfort to him. He had imagined the two of them sleeping next to each other, keeping their shared nightmares at bay. And maybe, just maybe, the intimacy that comes from  sleeping next to a person would rub off on their relationship, a small voice in Logan’s head chimed in before he pushed it back down into his subconscious.

Little thoughts such as these had been creeping through his mind lately especially after that sparring session. What the fuck had he been thinking? It had seemed like she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. So, he had done his best to suppress this new urge. In fact, his awareness of these growing thoughts had made him tentative to make the midnight journey at all. Why encourage temptation?

However, he had still come to her door that night, and, hearing her moans, assumed she was in the middle of another nightmare. As he opened her door, the sounds of her moaning grew louder, and more distinctive. Now he could hear her properly.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, “liiike thaaaat.”

His eyes unencumbered by the darkness, he watched her prone form in amazement as she twisted and shifter her legs up and down on the bed.

He could sense deep waves of arousal coming off of her, and he sucked in through his teeth as he realized exactly what kind of dream she was having. He felt himself beginning to grow hard as he watched his Marie in the throws of what was obviously a heavily erotic dream.

And then she moaned again. “Looooogaaaan…”

His eyes widened and exited quickly.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he stood outside her door. This was not going to help him.