“Mmm. Oh...that’s just…marvelous.”

Rogue leaned her head back against the sofa cushion, eyes closed, her tongue licking over her lips. She brought a hand up and wiped her mouth on the back of her glove, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. She opened her eyes and tipped her beer can to his.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Happy to oblige, darlin’.”

She wasn’t your typical lady when it came to drinking a beer. In fact, she wasn’t your typical lady when it came to just about anything, be it her taste in films – the darkest, bloodiest, and grittiest one she could find – or the way she ate her Twizzlers while watching said film, twisting and curling them around her fingers before bringing them to her glossed mouth and pulling them slowly through her teeth.

Sitting next to her, an arm draped lazily over the back of the rec room sofa, Logan watched her as she brought the beer to her lips again for another deep gulp.

“You a virgin?”

“Wha—Whoa. How did we get to talking about that?”

“Dunno. Just did. Are you?”

She looked at him for a long moment. “If I say yes, will you stop trying to have sex with me?”

He thought about it. “No.”

She studied him, as though unsure whether or not he was being sarcastic. When she realized he wasn’t going to let her get away without answering, she finally acquiesced.

“Yes and no,” she said. “I guess it depends on how you want to look at it.” She looked down at her gloved hands, plucking at the pull tab on the beer can. “The first boy I ever tried to have sex with ended up in a coma for three weeks.”

"Shit. That's fucked up."

“If only that were the worst of it,” she said with a bitter laugh. “But no. The worst of it was…we were just getting into it, things were starting to feel okay and all…and then I started getting this rush of memories. His memories. With my best friend.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she said. She blinked down at her beer can. “And then when I was with Erik-“

She had to stop then, because Logan began to cough, almost spurting the beer he was drinking through his nose.

“Wait,” he said between choked gulps of air. “You and Magneto?”

“Oh, we never-...it wasn’t like that,” she said quickly. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“Not that I didn’t want it to be…"

Back to choking.

"I was young and in love," she said. "He seemed so brilliant and visionary…it turns out he was only using me to further his own agenda.”

He glared at her as she continued her story. He was pretty sure she was saying some other stuff about some machine and a diabolical plan, but truth be told she’d lost him somewhere around the time she mentioned ‘Magneto’ and ‘brilliant’ in the same sentence. From there, all he could think about was how much fun he was going to have helping her bang that maniac out of her system.

“…so unless you count mind-fucking,” she said, tuning him back in as she finished her story, “I guess you can say I haven’t had much success in the whole…sex department.”

She tried, unsuccessfully, not to look too bothered by that. Logan watched her silently for a moment, absorbing everything she’d just said. She leaned forward to set her beer down on the coffee table, and suddenly hissed a breath through her teeth, hand going to her neck.

“You hurt?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, though. I think I pulled something during training this morning,” she said.

“Turn around,” he said, setting his own beer down. “Lemme rub it out for you.”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that just sounds wrong.”

“Stop it. Seriously, it’ll make you feel better. I’ve got good hands.”

She looked at him, obviously trying to work out if he was being sincere or not.

“What’s the matter?” he said with a slow smile. “Afraid you might like it?”

“Kind of,” she said. “Yes.”

She looked into his eyes, hesitating for a few more moments, and then she exhaled and turned around. Just as he was about to start massaging her, she turned her head and gave him a sideways glance.

“You’re not going to get all horny from this, are you?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m always that way.”

“Yeah, I kinda get that vibe from you.” She rolled her eyes away from him. “Can’t figure out why.”

He began to massage her, pressing firmly into her neck and shoulders, working the tight knots under his thumb and fingers. He felt her immediately relax under his touch, and her eyes closed, head dropping down toward her chest.

“Oh, that feels amazing,” she said, all but purring her appreciation.

“Told you,” he said.

He continued to work her shoulder and neck muscles in circles, lingering there awhile before moving downward to the spot between her shoulder blades. She lightly hummed her pleasure for a few moments…and then she did something that made his hands stop mid-motion and an instant hardon spring up in his jeans.

She growled.

Not just any growl. His growl. And not an angry or vicious one, or any other type of growl she may have heard coming from him before. This was a totally different kind of growl. Like an ‘oh, that feels real good’ growl. The kind of growl that came out when…

He tilted his head at her. “Rogue…?”

She tensed up immediately, eyes open wide but not meeting his gaze. “Hm?”

“Where’d you get that growl, darlin’?”

She was quiet for a real long time, like she didn’t want to answer, but he was already putting the pieces together in his mind. He thought back to their conversation in the library the day before…the way she’d begun to blush when she insisted she hadn’t seen anything…

“Well…um,” she started, “Remember how you asked me what I saw when we touched?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”

“One of your thoughts didn’t quite…make it into the box,” she admitted.

He leaned forward.

“What…kind…of thought?” he asked.

She looked flustered. “I didn’t mean to see it, okay? It’s just…when you touched me, you were thinking about the way I smelled…that you were going to, um…” she turned bright red. “…‘file that scent away for later’…which kind of led to an image of you…”

Jesus.

“…in the shower…”

Jesus.

His mind spun as he thought about what she’d seen. He suspected he already knew the answer his next question, but she was squirming so deliciously now that he couldn’t bring himself to let her off the hook just yet.

“Why didn’t that thought make it into the box, darlin’?” he murmured into her ear.

For a brief moment, she looked like she was going to try to hedge him. The blush that had been on her face now extended well past the collar of her blouse, and he was pretty certain it continued all the way down to her toes. He smiled against her ear.

“I borrowed it,” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked absolutely mortified. “I’m sorry. I thought it might help. I’ve never…”

Jesus H. Christ.

He was pretty sure something had short circuited in his brain just then, as his mind overflowed with images of her pleasuring herself with thoughts of him in mind, a gloved hand – or maybe a bare hand - buried between her thighs, rubbing furiously at her sex as she whimpered his name, frantically seeking her own —

He must have been grinning pretty broadly just then, because she suddenly turned and gave him a hard whack to the shoulder.

“Just because I can’t touch, doesn’t mean I don’t have needs, okay? I get…’frustrated’ too, you know.”

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean-…”

He looked at her for a moment, biting back the growl that threatened to escape him as he registered what she’d just told him. She looked away, visibly embarrassed and began tugging at her gloves. Sitting there and watching her, he suddenly felt something spark up within him.

“Rogue…” He put a hand on her cheek, using her hair to shield him from her skin, and gently turned her face back to his. He couldn’t help a soft growl this time as her eyes met his, a look of pure vulnerability in her gaze. “Baby, I can show you what that feels like. For real, I mean. No strings. Just…”

He stopped then, maybe because he felt he didn’t need to go on, or maybe because something in her eyes just then was telling him he didn’t need to.

“I can do that for you,” he said. “If you want me to.”

And God help him, she didn’t blush a damn bit. Just looked back at him, her brown eyes all wide and deep and clear. And she nodded.

He shrugged himself out of his leather jacket and threw it onto the armchair next to them, then sat back against the sofa and patted a hand to his thigh.

“’C’mere,” he said.

She remained where she was for a few seconds, as though still pondering it, then she removed the jean jacket she was wearing and laid it next to his. She shifted on the sofa, swinging a leg over him and straddling his hips. Logan looked up at her as he placed a hand on her thigh, sliding it up slowly through her dark tights from her knee to the hemline of her skirt. She sighed as he kneaded her leg gently yet deliberately in his hand. Her eyelids drifted closed and she leaned toward him, head tilted slightly to the side as she pursed her lips together. She suddenly looked so innocent to him, so cute, and…

…and he couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

She slowly opened one eye, then the other. “Asshole,” she said, moving to get down from his lap.

“Quit it,” he said. “C’mere.”

He dropped the grin and took hold of her hips, settling her back down onto his lap. She looked down into his eyes again, the annoyance slowly melting from her gaze and giving way to dark desire as he reached for the edge of the scarf that was wrapped around her neck. She seemed to go completely still then, scarcely breathing, as he draped the scarf over her lips. He took her face into his hands and gently pulled her toward him until her mouth met his.

He started all slow and soft-like, pressing his lips tenderly to hers through the thin veil of her scarf. She returned his kiss tentatively at first, then exhaled a softly sighed breath, eyes fluttering closed. He slid a hand up into her hair and pulled her closer, coaxing her lips open and slanting his mouth against hers. She followed his lead as he kissed her deeper, his tongue probing gently, yet hotly and insistently against hers.

She tasted of beer, and a faint trace of strawberry Twizzlers, and beneath that, something…something else. Something sweet and delicate and delicious and all hers. Something that made him suddenly want to taste more of her, taste her deeper. He growled softly as she crushed her mouth against his, now returning his kisses with undeniable hunger as her arms slid around his neck.

He flattened his hands against her back through her shirt, rubbing her all over from her small waist to the base of her neck as she arched her body against his. Turned out not only did she want to be touched, the woman was practically starved for it. He let out a stifled moan as she pressed herself against him, her every curve seeming to mold perfectly to his tightly corded muscles.

“Oh, Logan…”

She let out a small, whimpered breath as he moved his mouth from her lips to her neck, nibbling and kissing his way down to her collarbone through her hair. Sliding his hands down to her hips, he encouraged her movements as she began to rock against him with a carnal urgency that had him painfully hard and hot as lava under his jeans. She ground down against him, seeking out more pressure. He rocked his hips up to hers, trying to give her what she craved, but the sofa cushions beneath them were too plush to give him any kind of leverage.

“Hang on, baby,” he said, his breath hoarse. “Lemme…”

He tightened an arm around her waist as he tossed the throw cushions out of the way, then he lay her down on the sofa. Before she could even inhale a shaky breath, he was on top of her, pulling her legs around him and grinding his hips down hard against hers. She cried out against his clothed shoulder and wrapped her hands around his biceps, fingers digging almost painfully into his muscles as he worked his hardness against her.

Christ, but she smelled wonderful, all sultry femininity and dripping desire as she rolled her hips up to meet his increasingly lustful movements. He slid a hand into her hair again and kissed her, fully and deeply through her scarf. With his other hand, he caressed and squeezed her everywhere he could reach, finally stopping at one of those marvelous breasts. She moaned and arched her back up until the soft mound filled his palm through her blouse. He needed to get closer to her. Needed to…

He pulled back from their kissing and reached over her to the armchair, pulling his jacket toward him. She watched him with liquid eyes as he dug into the pockets and pulled out a pair of leather motorcycle gloves. He tugged them on quickly, and then his hand was back at her blouse, fumbling with the buttons for a moment before impatiently tearing it open. He yanked one of her bra cups down and squeezed the soft flesh firmly in his hand, then dragged her scarf down over it and devoured it with his open mouth.

“Logan!”

He sucked the pink nipple into his mouth, licking greedily and then closing his teeth around it with just enough pressure to draw a delicious shiver from her. This made his pants tighten even more around his aching hardon, and he ground down hard into her again, moaning against her breast at the friction their bodies created.

With a ragged breath, he released her breast and sat up on his knees, hooking his thighs under hers so her legs splayed open over his. He took in the sight of her, hair all disheveled, shirt open with one breast exposed, skirt hiked up around her waist. A dark, animal desire suddenly engulfed him as he relished the picture before him.

“Take off your gloves,” he said.

She looked up at him, eyes widening with alarm. He growled impatiently.

“Take off the goddamn gloves, Rogue.”

She hesitated for a long moment, and then quietly pulled them off. He watched her as she lay below him, her hands now bare. She was so very vulnerable like this, and yet so powerful, all at the same time. It was a strange dichotomy that existed in no other woman he’d known before, and the thought of it sent excitement swirling wildly through his veins.

Her eyes flickered away from his intense gaze as she tried to figure out what to do with her hands. She tried to stuff them under her hips, but he stopped her, grasping her wrists firmly in his hands. He pulled them up to look at them. They were small, soft, and pale, nails painted midnight blue and bitten down almost to the quick. And they were, quite possibly, more alluring to him in that moment than any pair of breasts, nipples, or ass cheeks he’d ever laid eyes on.

A low growl rumbling in his chest, he lay down over her again, trapping her hands against his chest as he crushed her mouth under his. She kept her hands curled into tight fists against him for a moment…then, as their kiss deepened, she relaxed, opening them up and letting them roam all over his chest and shoulders. She eventually slid them up and around him, fingers slipping into his hair.

He groaned at the sensation, sliding his hands under her hips and pulling them up to meet his thrusts. She was grinding shamelessly against him now, demanding more. He slipped a hand down between their bodies and rubbed his fingers against her crotch, all warm and damp with desire through her tights. She cried out against him as he stroked his thumb skillfully over the excited pearl of flesh nestled between her swollen lips.

The smell of her desire was heavy and thick all around him now, making his head spin with lust. He slid his hand up to the waistband of her tights and dug around underneath them, pulling at the side of her panties.

“Baby,” he breathed, “I need to…I’m gonna cut these off, okay?”

“Okay.” There was a puzzled look in her eyes. “But…you can take off my tights. I mean, you’ve got clothes on. And you’re wearing gloves.”

“I’m not gonna use my hands, darlin’,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. Then she thought about it. “Oh.”

That adorable blush was back again as she fully registered what he meant to do. He cut the seams of her panties, then yanked them up and out of her tights. Before she could protest, he moved down her body and hooked his arms under her legs, then buried his face between her thighs.

She growled a low, lusty sound and arched her hips up sharply from the sofa, her thighs clamping tightly against his ears. He groaned against her, mercilessly devouring her sex, and…Jesus, she really did taste that sweet everywhere. He flattened his tongue against the tight knot of nerves at her center, laving at her in tight, small circles, forcing a keening cry from her. Fuck, she was going to wake up the whole damn mansion. Face still nestled between her legs, he felt around the floor with one hand and picked up one of the throw cushions in his fist. He tossed it up at her and she instantly wrapped her arms around it, pressing it to her mouth and moaning loudly into it.

More. She needed more. With a growl, he ripped a hole in the crotch of her tights and dug two gloved fingers up into her. He slid them in and out of her as she squeezed violently around them, her muffled cries growing louder still. He found that soft, spongy spot on the front wall of her sex and curled his fingers against it, working it with a deliberate scooping motion that made her hips curve up to him in a way that was even less ladylike than how she chose her movies or drank her beer.

His jeans were painfully tight now, and soaked with his own excitement as he ground his erection into the cushions beneath him. He knew he had to sound utterly pathetic, whimpering like a wounded dog as he humped away at the sofa, but he didn’t care. Didn’t even care if he died right there and then, suffocating against her sex while her thighs squeezed around his neck. All he cared about in that moment was her impending release, a release that was coming hard and fast if the suddenly desperate movements of her hips were any indication. She trembled violently against him just then, heels digging into his back as her inner muscles clamped down around his fingers. She let out a long, low moan into the cushion.

“Oh, that’s it baby,” he said, his voice reduced to a shaky, desperate whine. “Come on Rogue, let it happen.”

She froze up against him, a low growl escaping her throat. She was going to come. NOW. He disentangled himself from her legs and quickly moved up to lay over her, grabbing the cushion she held and throwing it to the floor. He needed to feel her all around him when it happened. With a lust-filled groan, he bore his hips down hard against hers, smothering her lips with his.

He kind of grunted into her mouth, struggling to keep his own release from rushing forth as she quivered against him. Her fingers dug to his biceps again, and then she let go, shaking and shuddering all around him as her climax took over. She gasped desperately against his shoulder as he held her tight, the animal in him raging with pride as he wrung her release from her. He rocked his hips gently against hers, riding out the last waves of her desire.

He looked down at her, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. A joyful tear slipped from the corner of one of her closed eyelids, and he had to fight the sudden instinct to lean down and lick it away.

“Oh-h, Logan,” she gasped. That was…wonderful.”

Wonderful? More like fucking phenomenal. He watched her silently as she gathered her senses, trying to slow his own panted breath as his arousal strained against his jeans. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, drowning him in desire. Moonlight streamed through the window, falling over her delicate features and illuminating that striking bolt of platinum hair that framed her face. Looking at her then, he was certain he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. A more beautiful woman. And he was the first one to make her feel like this. The only one.

Mine.

Gently, he pulled her scarf across her face again, and swept the back of his finger over her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, sucking gently at her lips until she opened up for him, allowed him to kiss her deeper. Her bare hands came up to tangle in his hair, and her hips began to move under his again as he strained against her.

“One sec,” he whispered, pulling back from her a bit. “Lemme get a…”

Still laying over her, he fumbled around on the floor for his jacket. Once he located it, he pulled it to him and dug a hand into the inside pocket. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open.

Rogue looked up at him. “What are you…?”

He looked down at her as he finally found the foil-wrapped packet and slid it out of his wallet. With his free hand, he brushed his thumb over her lips.

“I’m gonna make love to you, baby,” he said.

He brought the packet up to his teeth. She suddenly tensed beneath him.

“No, wait,” she said. “I can't…”

Grr. “What?”

He searched her eyes, trying to understand. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead remained speechless for a few moments. She blinked up at him.

“I--…I’m sorry.”

He growled, rolling off of her. “Jesus, Rogue, what the fuck are you tryin’ to do to me?”

He stuffed the condom into his back pocket and stood from the sofa. He picked his boots up in one fist and sat down on the armchair to pull them on.

“It’s not like I’m not attracted to you,” Rogue said, standing up from the couch. “I am. A lot. And…and what we just did was really nice, it’s just…”

“What?” he said, standing up. His eyes burned into hers. “What’s the problem, then?”

She looked at him, eyes glistening as she considered her next words.

“I…I look at you,” she said, “And I wonder why you would want someone like me. Someone you can’t touch. And…and then I see the way you look at Dr. Grey, and—“

“Oh, bullshit,” he said, picking up his jacket. “This has nothing to do with Jean or your skin, and you know it. This is all about you not wantin’ to let yourself get close to anyone.”

She looked back at him silently, eyes shining with tears, and he knew his words had hit home.

“God, you are such a hypocrite,” he said, his voice shaking. “You go around waxin’ poetic about how you just wanna be able to touch someone, well I’m here Rogue. I’m here, and I wanna touch you all over, but you can’t see past your own goddamn fear long enough to let it happen.”

He walked over to her and snapped her hand up in his. He pulled it up and pressed it against his chest.

“You want this,” he said. “You want me. I can smell it all over you every time you’re around me, and it’s driving me insane.”

He watched her, waiting for her to change her mind. She opened her mouth to speak, bottom lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Logan threw her hand down and turned to leave the rec room. He got to the door, then paused and turned back to her.

“Y’know, I read your damn book." Okay, the Cliff’s Notes. But still. “And you wanna know what I think? I say it doesn’t matter whether it was love or lust. At least Juliet wasn’t afraid to take a chance on Romeo, which is a whole hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”

He caught the flash of hurt in her eyes as he said it. He turned to leave then, storming loudly up to his room and slamming the door behind him. He threw his jacket down and flopped his heavy body down onto his bed. He twisted over and drove his fist into his pillow a few times, then buried his face angrily into it.

‘I want to make love to you’? What the fuck was that?

He didn’t want to think about how he’d said that to her. He especially didn’t want to think about how he’d felt as he said it; like he was jumping from an airplane without a parachute, or balancing on a high-wire with no net below to catch him. He decided right then and there that he would never let himself feel like that again. Fuck her. Fuck Jean. Fuck this whole goddamn place.

He turned over onto his back again, yanking the sheets up over him. They only ended up annoying him more, and he kicked and bucked them away, tangling them around his limbs. He stared up at the ceiling for a really long time, trying to calm the animal raging within. Twenty minutes later, the rage still hadn’t subsided completely, but it at least abated enough for him to get a chance at some sleep.

He exhaled deeply, trying to relax as much as possible so he could fall off into slumber. He was just about there, eyelids growing heavy, when his ears suddenly pricked to attention, catching the faint creak of the floorboards in the hallway.

He lay still and silent, identifying his visitor’s scent, and listened as her bare feet padded softly toward his bedroom. There was complete silence then, as he lay barely breathing and she stood motionless outside his door.

After what felt like an unnaturally long pause, he heard the doorknob turn. He looked over to the door as it creaked open. Rogue stepped in cautiously, meeting his eyes as she slowly clicked the door shut behind her. He sat up on the bed, lowering his feet to the floor.

She wore nothing but a pink nightie, long enough to leave a few things to the imagination, but sheer enough to reveal a lot more. He raked his eyes over her as she stood nervously before him.

Go back to you room, kid, the man in him tried to say. This isn’t where you want to be right now.

The other part of him, however, had an entirely different idea. He felt a shiver of reptilian instinct crawl up his spine as the animal growled louder and louder, drowning out the man.

Fuck her.

Fuck Jean.

Fuck this whole goddamn place.

His decision was made the moment she brought a hand up to slip one of her nightgown straps over her bare shoulder. He was up from the bed and across the room in a flash, grabbing her roughly and yanking her against him. He twisted a hand up into her hair, turning her face up toward his until she squeaked. He pulled the edge of her nightie up over her lips and then bore his mouth down onto hers, prying it open with his tongue. She gasped against him, trying to return his feral kisses, all growls and moans and sharply nipping teeth.

She stumbled for her balance as he backed her up toward the wall. He reached down and hitched her legs up, clamping them around his hips as he pinned her to the wall. His mouth moved to her neck, sucking and biting hungrily through her hair. He felt her pulse against his tongue and growled, sinking his teeth into the pale flesh. She shrieked loudly as he drew blood. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. He was through being nice and quiet about this. All he had in mind was to take her hard, fast, and as loudly as possible up against that very wall. He shoved a hand down between their bodies and slid the tip of a claw from between his knuckles.

“Hold still, Rogue,” he growled through clenched teeth. He cut a slit into her nightie, then released himself from his jeans and hastily rolled on a condom. He was just about to press into her slick warmth when she whispered something to him, stopping him in his tracks.

He trembled against her as the single word cut through the fog of lust in his brain. He pulled back and looked at her. “What?”

“My name,” she said quietly. “It’s Marie.”

He looked into her eyes, all brown and deep and glistening with moisture as they held his gaze. For what seemed like an eternity, he just stood there, his body pinned against hers as they looked at each other in silence. Finally, he released her legs from his grip, letting her slide down until her feet reached the floor, and stepped back from her.

“Get out,” he said.

Her eyes went wide as she looked up at him, her mouth dropping open. Her bottom lip trembled. "Wha-"

“I said get out. Go.”

He watched her with steely resolve as tears sprang to her eyes. She looked away silently and pulled her nightgown strap back onto her shoulder. She turned to the door and opened it, then hesitated for a few seconds, her back turned toward him. When he didn’t stop her, she stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind her. He listened to her angry footsteps as she ran down the hallway and disappeared down the stairs.

With a roaring growl, he balled his hand into a tight fist and slammed it into the wall. The plaster crumbled around his knuckles, jagged edges scraping through the skin until it bled.

It didn’t hurt enough.

He pulled his fist from the wall, shook his hand out, and went to the door. He ripped it open and tore down the hallway toward the stairs. On the way he passed Jean, who was leaning against the door-frame of her bedroom, cutting slices from an apple with a paring knife.

“Vroom, vroom,” she said when he stormed past.

“Eat a dick, Jean,” he called over his shoulder.

He thudded down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Once there, he opened up the dish cabinet and pulled out a glass tumbler. He slammed it down onto the counter and went to the pantry, digging around for the bottle of scotch he’s stashed there earlier. Fuck the glass, he suddenly decided, twisting the cap off the bottle. He brought it to his lips and took a long swig of the amber liquid, relishing the burn of alcohol as it slid down his throat.

He didn’t even bother to turn around when Jean’s scent floated into the kitchen. He heard her bare feet sticking and un-sticking on the tiles as she crossed the room and came to stand behind him. Logan took another long, burning swig from his bottle.

“You know, you really shouldn’t take this as a measure of your prowess,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. She slid a gentle hand up his arm from his elbow to his shoulder. “It’s not your fault she’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

She tilted her head, trying to see his eyes. He wouldn’t let her, and soon began to feel the tingle of her mental fingers probing his mind, searching around in there for what went wrong.

“Oh,” she said quietly, after finding what she was looking for. “You too?”

He said nothing, simply brought the bottle up for another gulp.

She exhaled a soft breath, lifting her chin from his shoulder. He felt the heat of her body leave him as she turned and moved toward the counter. “What is it about this girl?”

There was a strange tone in her voice as she said it. No anger, no sarcasm, just…a genuine inability to understand why someone would be attracted to Rogue. And beneath that, he picked up the slightest hint of sadness. Was that right? No, it wasn’t quite sadness. It was something else. Something distant...empty.

He turned to look at her as she lifted herself onto the counter and sat on the edge.

“Is there some point to you being down here right now?” he asked her.

“Of course there is,” she said. A smile began to pull at her mouth as she reached for the sash of her silk dressing gown, pulling it slowly out of its bow. Her robe slipped open, revealing a completely naked Jean underneath.

“I came to offer you a consolation prize.”

Logan slowly walked toward her, bottle in fist, his eyes sweeping over her bare flesh. “Is that right.”

“That’s right,” she said, eyes twinkling as he came to stand between her dangling legs. She leaned back slowly until she lay down fully on the counter, her long red hair splayed across it as her robe fell away completely.

He set the bottle of scotch down on the counter and looked down at the naked woman splayed out before him. An unusual feeling crept over him then…a realization that something definitely wasn’t right with her. Maybe he didn’t want to see it before, thinking that she deserved to let her hair down a little after all she’d supposedly been through the last few months. Maybe it was simply that his dick had been too hard for her. Whatever it was, he suddenly felt as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes, and he was finally seeing things the way he should have all along.

“What?” she asked, the smile fading from her lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Somethin’ the professor said,” he said, mumbling more to himself than to Jean. “On the phone, when I was away. Said you might be…different.”

“You’re being cryptic,” she said. She looked up at him with eyes that had darkened to two black pools. “Am I going to have to read your mind again?”

That uneasy feeling was back, creeping slowly up his spine as he looked down into her eyes.

“We almost destroyed a young woman, Jean. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes growing blacker still. He almost felt like he was being pulled into them.

“Logan, I’m impressed,” she said. “Since when do you have a conscience?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Question is, since when don’t you have one?”

They stared at each other in silence. When she didn’t answer, he picked up the bottle of scotch and moved to leave.

“Wait,” she said, legs wrapping around him to prevent his escape. She slid a calf gently up his thigh until it curved around his hip. “What about your consolation prize?”

Logan set the bottle back down onto the counter. He let his eyes rake over her slowly from the soft, red curls at the apex of her thighs up to the full mounds of her breasts. Placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, he leaned over her, his nose following the path that his eyes had just traveled. He stopped just below the pulse point at her neck, taking a few moments to breathe in her arousal.

“You know what you can do for me, sweetheart?” he murmured against her.

“What’s that?” she purred.

“I want you do go down to the garage and get on the bike…”

She smiled in anticipation of his next words. "And then...?"

“And then I want you to fuck yourself with it,” he said. “I’m done.”

Her mouth fell open as he pushed her legs away from him. He snatched up the bottle of scotch and turned to leave.

“Logan,” she called to him as he left the room. He didn’t turn back. She tried again, in a not so nice way. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked into his mind.

~ Logan! ~