Later that night…

Logan began to slow as he drove through the school gates. What am I doing back here? he thought. A month had passed since he had high-tailed it out of Westchester, away from those X geeks, away from those bratty kids, but most importantly, away from her.

He steered his bike into the garage and came to a stop in front of the work bench. He kicked down the kickstand with more force than was necessary and dismounted, slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder. Reluctant to go inside, he leaned against his beloved motorcycle and thought about the three little words that had brought him here. “I can touch.”

She had been so joyful that day, when he had caught her and her friend in the middle of a bear hug on the floor. At first he had brushed it off as silly girl stuff, getting ready to mock the two of them for being so childish. But then she had told him the one thing that he had been praying for and dreading all at the same time. It was obvious why he had longed to touch her smooth, milky skin. He had watched Rogue grow from a skinny teenager in a snow bank to a beautiful young woman. A young woman capable of evoking desires, wants, and-stranger still-emotions within him. Of course he wanted to take her and caress every inch of her. Explore her body with his fingers and lips and perhaps more.

But the idea terrified him. He knew that he was way too old for her.  Jesus, you could be her father. Hell, her grandfather, for all you know, he thought to himself, shaking his head. She was sure to want to try out her new found control on boys her own age, or at the very least get some experience in before she settled down, and the thought of that was practically more than he could bare. He was damn sure he would have a hard time sharing his Marie. The Wolverine doesn’t like people touching his things, after all.

Oh, he had teased and flirted with her plenty. But he always felt assured that, no matter how far he took things, no matter how plainly he let her know he wanted her, he was always safe. Safe in the knowledge that the status quo would not change. He might not be able to fuck her…but neither would anyone else.

He smirked at the irony…he thought it was irony, he knew Marie would know…the irony of how now that she had control, everyone should feel safer around Rogue. And he felt completely the opposite.

And so, he had run. He had savored only a few seconds of contact. Relatively innocent contact, at that, and he had taken off. But not before he had seen the way she reacted.

Logan began to trudge into the mansion and make his way to his room. Marie’s face filled is mind. The way her eyes had slowly closed as he had swept his fingers over he cheek for the first time. He had touched her face a few times before, of course, but always in a state of panic, desperately trying to save her and therefore paying no attention whatsoever to what she felt like. And then he had heard her sigh. It was the type of sigh he had heard from plenty of girls before, and he knew what it meant. And what’s more, he knew what it meant coming from Marie: she was becoming aroused. He could even smell it on her. And it scared the hell out of him.

Now, as he neared his room, he wondered to himself, what did he really have to be afraid of? It was a good thing, wasn’t it? She had enjoyed his touch, so much so that a simple caress on the neck had apparently driven her hormones into DEFCON 1. And all for him. His only legitimate fear now was that she might have had that reaction to any guy who touched her. Or worse yet, she hadn’t, but since he had abandoned her, she had tried to find it in another man’s arms. Shit, I hope not, he thought as he opened to door to his bedroom.

He knew the instant he entered that someone had been there since his absence. With one sniff he knew exactly who. Logan could smell Marie everywhere, it was as if someone had bottled her up and sprayed her around his quarters. He glanced around. Here and there were little signs of her having spent time in his room: a plate with the crust of a pizza here, an empty Diet Dr. Pepper can there, one of his flannel shirts out on the bed-he knew she like to wear them when he was away, she said she liked how they smelled like him. He smiled and threw his bag on his bed. This had to be a good sign. She had a room of her own. Well, she shared it with that chatty-cathy friend of hers, but it was still her own space. So why the hell would she want to be in his room? Logan wasn’t a rocket a scientist, but he could figure this one out: she had missed him.

Smiling smugly, he walked over to his dresser and got out a cigar, then made his way over to his favorite chair to sit down and relax before hitting the hay. He made it within two feet of the chair before he smelled it.

Marie. And not just the general scent she always gave out. This was pure, unadulterated, aroused Marie. Musk o’ the Rogue. The strength of it was almost overwhelming and he puzzled how he could possibly have missed it.

Dropping the still unlit cigar, Logan got down on his haunches in front of the chair and sniffed harder. The scent that filled his nostrils was like a drug to him. He allowed himself to be filled with it. Drawing closer, he ran his hands up the arms of the chair and brought himself nearly face down on the seat. Here it was stronger still, and Logan gave a little groan at the overpowering sensation of it all. Marie had been sitting here, all right. But from what he could tell, she hadn’t just been sitting.

God, the scent of her was intoxicating to him. He could feel himself growing harder as he bathed in it, and he lowered a hand to unbutton his jeans and relieve the pressure building within.

He knew he must look ridiculous; a grown man bending over a leather chair, sweeping his hand across the seat and breathing it in, all the while starting to stroke his long, hard member. Ridiculous or sad, he couldn’t decide, but he didn’t care. An addict doesn’t care what he looks like, as long as he gets his fix. And for Logan, his drug was Marie. He thought only of her as he continued to pump his own hand over himself, imagining what she would feel like-warm, wet, and tight around him. He saw his Marie splayed naked on his bed inviting him. She beckoned to him and he would be damned if he wasn't going to accept her invitation.

He was pumping harder now, coming close. He tried to think of how she would feel as she writhed and undulated beneath him. How her inner walls would clamp down on his cock as he trust hard into her, taking her to the brink. And how wonderful, how amazing it would be to hear her utter "Logan" as she climaxed.

He sniffed harder and the unmistakable scent of Marie filled him once more and he came, shooting into his hand. He slumped against the chair, hardly believing what he had just done. He felt like ten kinds of pervert-jacking off to some girl's smell. He sighed and got up. He knew this would never satisfy him. He had to be with her. 

Logan looked at the clock- 4:30 am. He couldn't wake her. Resigned to sleep, he shoved his bag off his bed and lied down on top of the covers. Eventually sleep overtook him.