Logan strode down the hallway, doubts and self-recriminations running through his head, realizing only halfway down that the girl was struggling to keep up with his long strides.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly, and even to his own ears the words sounded more like an accusation than an apology. Christ, he was going to scare her away before they even got in the room, and he had no idea if that was what he wanted to happen or not. He slowed his pace, and felt her eyes on him as he fumbled with the key. He had never actually been in one of the “appointment” rooms. It was a remarkably ordinary bedroom. Luxurious, certainly, in keeping with the rest of the house, but no rotating bed or red brocade wallpaper or handy selection of whips mounted on the wall.
There was, however, a small bar in the corner, and Logan was downing a glass of whisky in half a minute flat. He turned around to find the girl still in the doorway, eyes wide.
“Oh. Wanna drink?” he asked belatedly.
“Um, no thanks. But thank you.” A small half-smile turned her mouth up at the corners and lit her eyes. Was she laughing at him?
He suddenly realized how it must have looked to her -- the way he had barrelled down the hall, and then downed his drink like he was about to face a firing squad.
He felt an answering quirk to his own lips. “Sorry. Again.” He thought of her words -- I want him to pretend like he really wants me -- and realized he was not exactly being reassuring. He felt ridiculous saying it, like a child complaining about being picked last for kickball, but he said it anyway. “No one ever picked me before.”
He could tell that surprised her. Well, that was something. She looked at him seriously. “Are you sorry that I did?”
He was suddenly sure of his answer. He shook his head slowly. “No.”
She smiled again, warm and wide this time. “Me neither.” Finally, she stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her.
They each took a step closer, and then stopped. “This is weird,” she said. “How do you think we begin?”
Logan looked at her -- the lush body, the creamy skin, the flushed cheeks. Forget the rest, he thought. You want her, all you have to do is make damn sure she wants you back.
He took the remaining steps until he was standing right in front of her, stopping himself from gathering her up against his body in the nick of time, suddenly remembering her rules. Instead, he ghosted his fingers along the lock of white hair, then rubbed his thumb just a hair’s breadth away from her lower lip, finally brushing his fingertips just barely over the soft draped fabric of her dress between her shoulder and breast.
“Your rules,” he said. “Complete control. So tell me what you want.” He saw her shiver at the low, husky tone of his voice, smelled the spike in her arousal at his words. He felt it himself, thinking of the words that might fall from those soft lips, the requests she might have for him. His body was painfully aware of the heat that radiated from hers, so close that their clothes brushed, their breaths mingled.
He saw the challenge light her eyes. “I want to see you,” she said, and he damn near came in his jeans.
He leaned down, nuzzling his face into her hair a bit, his words a warm breath in her ear. “Go ahead.”
She pulled her head back in surprise, but then the light of challenge was back. She placed her gloved fingers on his chest, pressing a little as if testing the texture of underlying skin and muscle before her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. She had to get up on tiptoes to push it off his shoulders, and he laughed at her little noise of frustration when he didn’t help at all. She pulled his undershirt out of his jeans, and he had to close his eyes as the fabric scraped his oversensitive skin. This time he helped, lifting his arms and throwing the shirt free.
“Oh.” Her eyes were wide, as she took in his chest. She reached a hand out towards him, and then stopped. “Can I … touch you?” she asked seriously.
He smiled at that. “Darlin’, you don’t have to ask. I’m all yours.”
She drew in her breath at that, and then smiled. She pulled on each finger of the glove on her right hand, and then stripped it off. She repeated the action with her other glove, and he had just a moment to wonder at the softness and paleness of her skin, as if she rarely went without the gloves, before her hands on his chest made him forget his own name.
He was not usually one for soft touches. His history was more about fuck-’em-hard-and-fast-in-an-alley-and-then-head-home-alone, but something about having to restrain himself in the face of her gentle, almost reverent exploration aroused him almost to the breaking point. Her soft hand ran across his neck, bristling the small hairs at the nape, over his chest, brushing against his nipple and making him suck in a harsh breath and stifle a groan. One hand drifted down his side, and he automatically grabbed her hand to halt it as she hit his ticklish spot.
Fast as lightning, the mood was broken. She jerked back, wrenching her hand from his, accusation in her eyes. Christ, her damn rule. What was with that, anyway? “Sorry,” he said, although even he could hear the irritation in his own voice. “I’m ticklish.”
Suddenly her eyes softened and grew blurry with incipient tears. She turned away and he saw her wipe the tears away with a quick angry swipe. What the hell? He tried to soften his voice. “Darlin’? What’s wrong? I’ll -- I’ll be more careful.”
She took a step away and a deep shaky breath. “I’m so stupid.”
“What do you mean?”
She whirled around now, eyes blazing, voice bitter. “I mean I don’t know anything! I’ve never even touched a man like this. Never kissed anyone goodnight on my doorstep, never made out in the backseat of a car, nothing. I thought somehow I could learn it all in one night, but that was just stupid. How can you make up for all the touch you missed over a decade in one night?”
He was sure he looked as stunned as he felt, mouth hanging open. This luscious girl had never been touched? “How...why...” he heard himself sputter.
Her face closed down, and she shut her eyes wearily. “It doesn’t matter why. I was...sick. And now that I’m...better I thought if I met someone and really liked them, and was ready to -- to be with them -- they would know. They would know right away that I didn’t know anything, and then I would have to explain, and I just thought -- I just stupidly thought that I could do this all in one night and then afterwards I would just be normal. Not a virgin, not ignorant as hell, not so anxious about what I should or shouldn’t be doing that I can’t even let myself feel...” She was almost trembling with agitation, the words spilling out of her in an ungovernable rush.
“Hey,” he said. “Stop it.” Unable to touch her without fear of her reaction, he did the next best thing, stepping up close to her again, letting her feel the heat of his body, his breath in her ear. I can do this for her, he realized. I want to do this for her.
“I’ll show you anything you want to know. Teach you anything you want to learn. And I’ll make damn sure you feel it...”
He saw the shudder run through her at his words. She slowly leaned forward until her forehead was resting against his bare chest, her trembling subsiding as she took in his warmth. Then her arms wrapped around him, her cheek -- still damp from her tears -- pressed against his hot skin. She seemed to melt against his body with a sigh. “I want that,” she said softly. And more urgently, as her arms tightened around his waist, “God, I want that so much.”
He clenched his fists at his side to keep his arms from wrapping around her. He was not someone for whom reassuring words came naturally, and he groped for what he wanted to say. “This is good,” he said finally. “You’re good at this.”
She laughed, half a chuckle and half a snuffle against his chest. “Oh, great. I passed Hugging 101. What’s next, Professor?”
Christ, a brief image of her in a short plaid skirt and that was not helping his restraint. “Let me take your hands?” he asked. She nodded, and he put his large warm hands over hers, turning them and taking a step back so that the wall was at his back, guiding her hands over his body in the path she had traced earlier. “This was good, when you did this,” he said, guiding her hand over the nape of his neck. “And this...this feels very good," he said, guiding her hand to his nipple, pressing down hard so she could feel the change in texture, moving her thumb to flick a little.
Half-unconsciously, he started tilting his hips, pressing the bulge in his jeans gently against her soft belly as he moved her hands over his body. “I’m a little ticklish here,” he said, skimming her hand over his side and shivering, “but here feels good.” He pressed her hand against the warm skin of his taut belly, muscles rippling at her touch. “Truth is, darlin’, men are so happy to be touched they don’t really care too much where or how you do it.”
Her eyes were heavy with lust, the scent of her arousal pooling around her body. She leaned her head in, licking at his nipple, and then sucking. “Christ!” he ground out, and she smiled. “I’ll remember that spot,” she said with a mischievous glint, and he growled a bit. “And how about here?” she said, pure wickedness in her eyes as she pressed her hand against the bulge in his jeans.
The growl choked off into an anguished moan as the simple pressure of her hand almost made his knees buckle. He felt those deep chocolate eyes on his as she slowly unbuckled his belt, pulling it completely off with a satisfying swish. “Especially there,” he rasped, as her small soft hands worked the buttons of his fly. He toed off his shoes and socks as she reached the last button and hesitated.
Logan fought the urge to take control. He wanted to pull her hard against him, devour her mouth, press her up against the wall and plunge into her sweet body. Instead he clenched his fists and waited. She stood up on her tiptoes, hands still on the last button, slowly drawing closer and closer until her breath mingled with his.
“Darlin’...” he said, and heard the underlying plea in his own voice.
“Marie,” she said, her lips finally meeting his, soft and sweet and hot, tongue slicking over his lower lip as she released the last button and took him fully and firmly in her hand. He groaned into her mouth, deepening the kiss, possessing, invading, shuddering with pleasure as her hand moved over him, sweet torture and relief all at once.
“Marie,” he said, as they broke the kiss, each gasping for breath. “God, Marie...” as he dived back in, sucking her lower lip, tongue slick against his, reflexively pushing his body hard into the warmth of her hand.
She pushed his jeans off his hips and he kicked them aside. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him completely naked.
“Oh. Wow.” she said. She moved her hand experimentally, drinking in his expression as he clenched his jaw and threw his head back with the pleasure of it. He heard her breath hitch, saw her pupils dilate further. “Show me how,” she said. “Tell me everything.”
Logan’s hand covered hers. Christ, he was so aroused he would be lucky if he could formulate a sentence. “Like this,” he said, his hand guiding hers. “Harder than you might think. Like...God, Marie, just like that.”
“It feels...” she started to say, and then stopped, apparently at a loss for words. “I like touching you.”
He groaned at her words, his breath coming in pants as her hand began to move on his body with more confidence. Suddenly she stopped, and his heart stuttered as she dropped to her knees before him. Her hand moved on him again, her breath hot against his cock. “Tell me...” she said again.
“Christ, Marie,” he said. “Just...please, take me in your mouth. Suck on me.” His body tensed with pleasure as she followed his instructions, licking and then sucking him into her mouth.
“Harder, baby...Jesus, like that. And your hand...” He showed her what to do, her soft hand and sweet mouth on his body driving him wild.
“More. You can take more.” He didn’t even know what he was saying now, he just knew he never wanted her to stop, never wanted this to end. “God, baby, that’s so good. Harder, baby. Please.”
God, she was so perfect. Unpracticed, but so responsive, so eager. He was making rough noises in the back of his throat now, hands hovering over her head as he fought the urge to bury them in her soft striped hair.
“That’s it, darlin’. Fuck, Marie...more. C’mon baby...oh fuck, that’s it. Fuck, don’t stop. Christ, Marie...” The smell of his and her arousal surrounded them, as erotic to his heightened senses as the sight of her -- kneeling before him fully dressed, the silky curtain of her hair brushing his thighs, her eyelashes dark crescents on her flushed cheeks as she closed her eyes with pleasure, her small pale hand on his body. Her other hand crept up to the back of his thigh, squeezing as she pulled him harder into her soft warm mouth.
His hands clenched and opened helplessly. “Fuck, Marie. So good. Oh, fuck.” He wasn’t sure she was ready, knew he should stop her. “Marie...Christ, Marie, stop. God, baby, I’m gonna...”
Her eyes fluttered open and met his for a moment, and he saw the understanding in them as instead of stopping she took him deeper, sucked harder, squeezed tighter.
“Oh, fuck!” He felt all the sensation in his body gather like a ball of lightning at the base of his spine. The urge to touch her was unbearable, and in a moment of clarity he instinctively held his arms rigid at his sides, palms out, popping the claws into the wall to pin himself in place. The surge of pain made everything more acute, the unaccustomed restraint unbearably erotic. He pressed his shoulderblades back against the wall to try to restrain himself from thrusting into her sweet mouth as he came hard with a roar.
“Ah God...oh, fuck...fuck, Marie...” he couldn’t stop the raspy words as he pulsed into her mouth, feeling her lick and swallow around his body, her hand still moving gently, drawing out the pleasure of the release, keeping him shuddering and spasming helplessly for infinite moments.
“Marie...” A final lick and she released him, rocking back to sit on her heels. He sheathed the claws with a snap, falling into a crouch in front of her, still recovering, breath coming in desperate pants, his heart racing, sweat sheening his skin.
“God, Marie...I need to touch you.” It was more a low, gravelly command than a request, but still he waited for her response.
Her eyes met his, dazed with lust, her voice sounding almost sleepy with arousal. “Yeah. Touch me, Logan.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Finally, the train arrives in Smut City. Still a little slow to get started, but I've decided to just stop apologizing for that. A little more graphic than my smut usually gets, but still not too explicit I think. Probably one or two more chapters to go. A little more smut and some kind of ending for our favorite couple. Thanks for indulging me! Please review if you're willing -- smut needs love too! ;-)
Oh, I just realized this might be a point of confusion. Marie hasn't taken the cure when she talks about being "better", she has just developed control over her power, but her control is somewhat tenuous/untested. Hence her second "rule," it's a contingency in case her control slips.
Oh, I just realized this might be a point of confusion. Marie hasn't taken the cure when she talks about being "better", she has just developed control over her power, but her control is somewhat tenuous/untested. Hence her second "rule," it's a contingency in case her control slips.