After a breakfast relatively peaceful breakfast, broken only the occasional brushes of skin meant to drive each other crazy and one or two mind-numbing kisses, Rogue and Logan headed upstairs to shower. He suggested showering together to save time, and she glared at him. “Somehow I doubt you, me and a shower equals quick. I'll save that one for another time, sugar. Shower time is individual right now!” she said firmly, stepping into her room and closing the door.
Rogue gathered up underwear and a towel. She entered her bathroom and turned the shower water on so hot it would probably be close to scalding, then carefully she stripped away her exercise clothes and looked down. Somehow Logan hadn't noticed the faint darkening of her ribcage, which was good because he would have gone all over-protective and started lecture mode. Of course, if he had she could have just peeled down a little of one side of her shorts to show him the huge fucking bruise he landed on her with that damn kick. She'd taken most of it on the hip bone, and now the very black and blue evidence was staring her in the face, so to speak. She didn't tend to bruise easily, which meant that she'd taken one hell of a beating during her solo fight and then their little session—for lack of a better word.
Rogue stepped into the shower and whimpered in pain as the strong jets of water hit her skin. Unfortunately it wasn't the heat that was causing her pain, which made her wonder how she was going to get through the day without revealing her state to Logan. She was just going to have to try, she thought grimly as she slowly shampooed and soaped up, wincing each time she had to turn her torso or stretch out her leg on her bruised side. Raising her arms was a no-no as well, she discovered, and once she was out of the shower and turned her back to the mirror she was able to see a huge bruise along one bicep. This was Not Good. If Logan caught sight of any of these bruises...Rogue gulped a little at the thought. He was always trying to tell her to be more careful during training sessions, but she'd just get so into the fight that she wouldn't care or feel what was being done to her until an hour or two later.
And now you're gonna pay for it if Logan sees these, Rogue girl, she told herself as she slathered on lotion and slipped on underwear and her bra. After she combed out and dried her hair, she went into her bedroom and looked through the closet. She'd shoved all of her long sleeved shirts and pants into the back, ruthlessly relegating them to winter wear. Now she was just thankful that she hadn't burned it all. It would have been a terrible waste of clothes that she could have used again, but it had been so tempting a month ago...Rogue sighed and searched until she found what she was looking for.
A pair of black leather pants that fit her like a second skin and managed to limit her mobility enough that she might not give away how much her hip hurt went on first. A red tank top paired with a sheer black blouse became the next part of her attempt to misdirect Logan. She looked into the mirror and groaned, dropping onto her bed and burying her head in her hands. She was so screwed.
There was no way Logan was going to see her in this outfit and not realize that something was up. She hadn't worn this much clothing since gaining control of her mutation, and it definitely wasn't the season for it. He was going to ask questions. She wouldn't be able to lie to him, even if she wanted to, because he always knew when he was lying. Stupid mutation. Yes, she was screwed.
Resigning herself to a game of Twenty Questions, and swearing she wouldn't cave on the first one, Rogue opened her door. To her chagrin Logan was leaning against the far wall, looking as hot as usual in jeans and a white T-shirt, and he frowned when he saw her. His eyes flickered down to her bare hands and then back up to her face. Rogue tried to ignore him and started down the stairs, Logan sticking to her side and silent as she headed toward the TV room. Maybe someone would be in there, witnesses so that he wouldn't feel compelled to—damn it. The room was deserted. Granted it was barely nine o'clock, and it was Saturday, but wasn't anyone else awake? Anyone?
“Okay, Marie, what's up?” Logan asked as she headed over to the DVD cabinet, still carefully avoiding looking at him.
“I just thought it'd be nice to watch a movie together while everything is still so quiet,” she replied, deliberately misunderstanding him. She reached out blindly and picked a random movie as she felt him move in behind her. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes. She felt his hands on her shoulders. One hand slipped under the collar of her black shirt to caress her skin.
“Hmm...mutation still off,” Logan said, his voice low, his mouth so close to her ear that she shivered as his hot breath whispered along her skin.
Rogue forced herself to turn around and gaze up at him innocently. “Have you noticed that maybe the air conditioning is working a little too efficiently?” she asked, grabbing at the first desperate thing she could think of.
Logan's hands had dropped to her arms as she turned, and now he held her as his eyes traveled down from her face. He smirked, and then one left her arm to cup her breast. Rogue drew in a breath and felt her nipples tightening, and not from anything cold. She felt the heat pooling between her legs, making them a little weak.
“Yeah, it sure is cold.” Logan's sardonic voice broke through the sudden haze of desire she felt, and she looked up into his eyes. Big mistake there because her already wobbly legs went even weaker when she saw the passion there, and Logan must have noticed because his grip on her arm tightened. Unfortunately, that was her bruised arm, and she winced. There was no way that Logan, looking right into her face, could have missed that either.
Of course he hadn't. Rogue could tell from the way his face went from smirking to frowning in less than one second.
“Something you're not telling me, darlin'?” His low voice now had a dangerous edge to it, and Rogue tried to swallow the knot in her throat. She decided that counted as his second question, not his first, so she wouldn't be breaking her vow to herself if she answered.
“Well, I don't think it would be a good idea to walk around looking like a battered woman, you know? People, well, people besides the ones who live here, might start asking questions,” she said defiantly. Her bravado was false. She just knew she was in for it.
“Battered woman? What the fuck, Marie?” Logan growled, and some part of that found that so sexy that despite her precarious position she felt her desire for him grow by leaps and bounds. Down, girl!
Rogue tried for a nonchalant shrug, but it didn't help that she winced again because shrugging had pulled on her bruised muscle. “I'm just a little sore, Logan. That's all,” she tried to convince them, holding the DVD between them as an ineffectual shield.
Logan's hand left her arm, but before she could escape she found her black shirt being pulled over her head. “Logan!” It was too late. He was turning her to the side, and the black glare she saw when she glanced over her shoulder told her that he saw the bruise.
“You were just going to cover this up, weren't you?” he growled. Rogue watched him, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, as his gaze lowered to her pants. “And your legs?” It was harsh and contained a warning that she better not lie to him.
“Not...my legs,” she mumbled, turning away to look at the far wall. Anything so that she could try to control her blushes.
Logan pulled her closer. “Where?” Just the one word, but so very powerful.
Rogue broke. “My hip,” she said shortly, sending her own glare towards him. “Did you think we were exchanging love taps in there, sugar?”
Logan growled again and proceeded to peel down her waistband with one hand while he held her with the other. Rogue bit back a moan at the feeling of his rough skin against hers, knowing that she really shouldn't let him do this in such a public place and that she really, really shouldn't be getting turned on by any of it, especially not the way that the leather pressed into her bruise where it was still covered and hurt just a little, reminding her that it was there, who put it there, and how. She followed Logan's eyes down to the inches of pale skin he had exposed, and more specifically to the large black blotch spreading across it.
“God, Marie,” Logan groaned, apparently unaware of how his touch was seeping into her and turning every nerve center, especially the ones on that hip, into molten lava. “Turn on your touch. Let me heal you.”
Rogue just shook her head. “No.”
“No? Why the hell not?” Logan turned her back to face him. His hands were on her shoulders now, and she wanted to snap that she liked them fine just where they had been...but that would be revealing too much.
She refused to meet his eyes at first. Licking her lips, she told him, “I don't need to heal every time I get a bruise from fighting or...anything else. It's not like it's life-threatening, Logan.”
Logan's eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. Rogue knew he could tell that she had just lied. “What's your real reason, Marie?” he asked, backing her up until she felt the press of the DVD cabinet's shelves in her back and hips.
Rogue let her eyes meet his, and she had a sinking feeling that he knew. “I—like them,” she whispered hesitantly.
Logan stared at her. “You like bruises?”
Rogue ducked her head again, a blush stealing up her throat and spreading over her cheeks. “Not all of them, but...well, it's like a reminder.” Rogue peeked at him through her eyelashes.
Comprehension filled his hazel eyes, and his hands slid down to grip her hips, deliberately digging in slightly. Rogue moaned a little, and he smiled a very wicked smile at her. Ever so slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. He brushed her lips with his lightly at first, increasing the pressure of lips and fingers at the same time, and Rogue twined her arms around his neck to hold him closer. His lips parted hers even as one thigh pushed hers apart, pressing up against her and adding an all new pressure point. She whimpered, and he nipped her lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. She ran her hands through his hair, clenching them when he increased the pressure between her legs.
At the sound of high-pitched laughter and running footsteps, Logan abruptly moved away. They stared at each other for a few moments, trying to catch their breaths, and then Logan grabbed her hand and pulled her to the couch. In ten seconds flat the TV was on and ESPN was playing. Twenty seconds later, three students ran in, pausing when they saw Logan and Rogue on the couch. They noticed his arm around her and the way she was snuggled against him, but both had their eyes on the television screen, so the teens shrugged and went to the foosball table for a game.
Rogue concentrated very hard on breathing normally, although that felt like an almost Herculean task. Logan was rubbing her upper arm in little circles, probably in an attempt to sooth her, but since she could feel the tension radiating off of him it didn't help much. Rogue stretched up and whispered low so that only he could hear, “No more public places.”
He glanced down at her. “No more public places without locks.”
Logan looked down at the dark head leaning against his shoulder and smiled despite the frustrated sexual desires he was feeling. Damn kids just had to wake up, didn't they? Oh, well. It did feel nice to have Rogue cuddled up next to him, even if she had taken to teasingly sliding her fingertips under the hem of his shirt to rub little circles on his stomach, using her fingernails more than anything else. In retaliation Logan let his own fingers slip just enough into the waistband of her leather pants to find that particular bruise she didn't want to get rid of and press down lightly. She squirmed, and he could tell by the way that she pressed her hip even more firmly into his hand that it wasn't really in pain. There was the smell of her arousal again. He couldn't believe that she actually enjoyed being marked by him, especially the way it had been done, but it was such a turn on that he wasn't going to complain. Of course, from now on he was determined that any marks he gave her outside of combat practice were more along the lines of bites, nips, pinches....hmmm...
Rogue must have sensed the direction his thoughts were taking—it might have been the way that his hand was creeping up the smooth skin of her side—because she grabbed his hand and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I'm really not in the mood for TV, sugar. Want to do something else?”
Logan let his eyes roam over her body. He smirked at her blush and said, “Well, now that you mention it...”
Rogue slapped his chest lightly. “That's not what I meant,” she said with a quick glance at the kids across the room. Thankfully they seemed absorbed in their game.
Logan tried for an offended expression, but when Rogue just grinned at him he shook his head. “Head out of the gutter, Marie. I was going to suggest that we go for a ride, maybe get some lunch somewhere, since you're already wearing leather. You'd just need to grab that leather jacket I got you for your birthday,” he said. He couldn't resist letting his hand wander back down to cup her backside for a moment, earning him a dirty look that quickly became excited.
“You mean on your motorcycle?” Rogue asked, her eyes shining. “I've been begging Scott to let me learn on his for the past year, but every time I mentioned it he'd just go all pale, so I kind of gave up. I don't suppose you'd teach me, would you, Logan?” she asked.
Logan felt trapped as he stared into those deep brown eyes and tried to come up with reasons why it wasn't a good idea for her to learn on his motorcycle, which was a newer version of Scott's. Every time he thought up a reason and tried to make his mouth open to say it, he'd get caught again. In the span of a few seconds he knew he was lost, though. He'd been quiet too long, and that hopeful expression was dying on that beautiful face...
“Yeah, Marie, once we get somewhere that I think is remote enough that you won't go killing anyone, I'll teach you how to ride,” Logan heard himself say. He managed not to wince.
Rogue jumped up from the couch, leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. “I'll go get my jacket!” she said, running out of the room.
Logan consoled himself over giving in by watching the way her breasts bounced as she left. Then he turned to see that the students playing foosball had stopped and were staring at him with smirks, like they knew he'd just been beaten.
“You know, I bet I could get real creative with combat training next term,” Logan said, a warning growl in his voice. The kids immediately returned to their games, smirks gone. Feeling just a little better, Logan prepared to spend the next few hours praying that Rogue was a fast learner and that his bike would survive.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This one was surprisingly difficult to write. I'm really not sure why. Hopefully you'll like it.
Small WARNING: Okay, so my sex-deprived brain has apparently gone a little kinky. Some hints of S&M here, okay? Not much. Maybe more later. What do you expect with Logan, though?
Small WARNING: Okay, so my sex-deprived brain has apparently gone a little kinky. Some hints of S&M here, okay? Not much. Maybe more later. What do you expect with Logan, though?
Chapter End Notes:
At least I know where the next chapter is going! Thank goodness!