Rogue observed him from the distance. She couldn't seem to call the man with her affectionate 'Professor' anymore. She had even called him that ridiculous nickname Logan had dubbed him –New Charles. The Professor was such a warm fellow –the old one, that is. He was all hairless and fatherly, his eyes full of wisdom and sincerity. It was hard to think of anything but respect and hope when you were around him. Now, though, New Charles was a fucking weirdo.

New Charles, with his thick head of hair, liked to flash the ladies his boyish smile and witty one-liners. It was hard read the expressions on his face. Not to mention that whenever you conversed with him, his eyes seemed to bore into you, like he wanted to intrude on your thoughts and, uh, something else. She expected him to be composed, just like his old self, but New Charles was definitely the New Charles. It was as if he was becoming this different entity, and the old Professor was becoming but a part of the past. It's not like she didn't like New Charles, but he was definitely NOT the Professor anymore. Maybe this was what he had been like when he was younger –quick, humorous, charming, and ah… like what Logan said, a pansy.

Logan.

The man was such a pest. If it weren't for Sabretooth's heightened senses, she wouldn't have managed to avoid his now becoming all too obvious stalking. He liked to corner her, but the strange thing was, whenever he found the chance to be alone with her, he just resorted to gaping at her, like he was sizing her up, trying to figure her out. She didn't want to read his intentions just yet, although a part of her felt glorified for having his attention all to herself, finally. But she realized even she couldn't say anything to him, too.

Knowing about Victor Creed's connection to him crowded her dreams at night, that she decided not to sleep at all. She would pretend to retire to her room (in the guest rooms, next door to New Charles –which was another problem all together), but fly out her window and sit by the roof. When she felt Logan doing his evening patrols, she would fly so high up in the sky till her face had turned blue because of frostbite.

But did she feel anything different for Logan?

Yes, definitely, but she didn't want to decide to be specific with her emotions just yet. For now, Rogue was willing to play along with the pretense that she was back for good, ignored the relief on everyone's faces when they found out that she chose not to take the cure because she was still wearing her gloves (sons of bitches) and she just went over a drastic makeover –which definitely aroused most of the male population whenever she was around. The fuckers.

For now, her mission was simple: don't be an idiot and confess her literally undying love to him, which can only be accomplished by avoiding the big lug. Ha. Yeah right. So whenever her Logan senses tingled, she had to act like he was going to give her STDs. Which was actually stupid, because she could heal –STOP, she reprimanded herself. Don't even go there.

"Roguey?" Scott's voice asked, his head popping by the door in the TV room. He jumped over the couch to sit beside her. He plopped his feet on the coffee table and grabbed the remote control between them. He changed the channel, which made her look at him in disgust. "Um, I'm not even sorry. It's my telenovela time. Conchita's about to confess to Alejandro." Instead of dropping his TV habit, he actually embraced it even more –especially wen he found out that the Conchita character was a Latina bombshell.

"Why do I bother," Rogue said, rolling her eyes. They sat side by side on the sofa, and thankfully, she didn't feel the intimidating leer Logan sent their way whenever they were together. Besides, Logan had classes to teach this morning. She didn't even mind when Scott called her Roguey. Because what the fuck, right? Trying hard to think of something else, she read the title of the show: "Dame Tu Amore. Do you even know how to speak Spanish?"

"No," Scott laughed. "But I think it means 'give me your hot lovin' or something." He said the last part with his eyebrows wiggling up and down from his visor.

"What the hell, Scott?"

"Hey, this is actually pretty good!" he defended his show. "The emotion in their voices are so intense and…"

They both started laughing. When Conchita reappeared on the screen, Scott forgot she even existed that all Rogue could do was frown at him like he had a second head growing out of his back. Well, it was certain that her friend didn't care one bit if people caught him watching the show, the same way he didn't care if everyone thought he was definitely a different Scott now. Somehow, she felt proud of him. If only I were that confident, she sighed.

Then Rogue felt it –that familiar tingle down her spine, making the hairs on her body stand on end. He was watching them. Her gloves felt so hot and cold at the same time. "I'm gonna go, Scott. I think I'm coming down with something."

Thankfully, Scott was too immersed with Conchita to hear her lie. "What?"

Waving him off, Rogue left through the other exit of the room, but she should have known better. Wolverine had been trained for stealth despite his 6'2 frame, that it was like breathing to him. She had to stop herself from flying off the floor when he startled her as she rounded the corner back to the dorms. "Logan," she squeaked, backing against the wall.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" he asked sullenly. He looked hurt, but there was something else in his gaze that made her want to balk –or ravish him right on the hallway.

"I didn't know I was supposed to," she said, which they both knew was a fucking joke. Because they liked to talk. She always made it a point to talk to him, to see him at least once a day. But now she couldn't even look him in the eyes. He was right there, and she couldn't lift one finger up-

"Logan!" she hissed quietly, when he wrapped her in an embrace. Now this she didn't expect, her softness molding all over his firm body. She was melting. Her senses were overwhelmed by his musky scent of cigar, sweat, beer and man. So Logan. I love you, she said in her head, and for a moment she lost herself. The need to bury her face in the crook of his neck and take everything in, pepper his skin with kisses, butno –she tried pushing him away, "Logan, are you t-trying to hurt yourself!" she protested breathlessly, but he locks her in his caress even harder. The super strength she was so proud of was useless in his arms. Her body felt like it was set ablaze, the raging of her heart making a soft slow burn down to her belly. And the hard outline of his belt buckle pressed against her belly and she wondered, what if this was something else… something…

"Marie," he growled softly, almost possessively she couldn't help but whimper in pleasure. His voice felt like fingers inside her body, sliding inside, feeling her everywhere. "I missed you. I miss you."

Rogue moaned out loud when he touched her slender neck with bare hands –and it occurred to her that she had forgotten to put on a scarf, but oh –the delight of his hands on her skin, it was blinding. This was what she wanted all along and it was driving her crazy. She wanted to climb up his body, wrap her legs around his waist and let him take her against the wall in broad daylight where everyone could see just how much she wanted him.

Logan must have sensed her arousal, as he stiffened for a moment and that mere second of hesitating had brought her back to reality. She used a portion of her new strength and pushed him away. "M-Marie…" He looked guilty, like she had caught him sticking his hand down the cookie jar, and for a second she wished it were true in Freudian terms.

"Did I hurt you?!" she demanded instead, trying to change the subject, making them both look even more flustered. She didn't take a thing from him, no, and he knew that the short contact wasn't going to hurt him one bit. But both of them were donning flushed faces and the scent of arousal in the air was thick as honey, just like the wetness forming between her legs. Embarrassed as fuck, and close to exploding, Rogue returned to avoiding his gaze and ran to her room.

From their last encounter at the hangar, they barely had time alone. After the arrival of New Charles, which was a feat in itself, once again the mansion was brought to another level of exuberance with the arrival of Scott, and most of all, the very hot, sexy new Rogue. He hated the attention she was getting from almost every male who was in her vicinity. Though she didn't wear outfits to draw attention to herself, every curve and graceful step was enough to make anyone with a dick look like a virgin teenage boy. It didn't help that she was projecting this mysterious aura about her.

All he could do was observe her. What was so different about her? Her scent was still Marie, his –but, he was quick to alter his thoughts with that, there was this change that made her scent more appealing, more… penetrating. It was almost as if she had absorbed someone so...

Even New Charles was intrigued, he can tell. There were a few times when the young man looked like he was more interested in staring at Rogue rather than talking to her about her previous whereabouts the past few weeks. But she had remained elusive, and just retold the plain version of the story: she didn't take the cure, went to Canada, hoping to get somewhere near Alaska, and accidentally found Scott. It was the truth, but she was evidently not wholeheartedly honest.

When he first arrived at the motel where Scott was staying, he was unable to stop himself from demanding where Rogue was, because her scent was all over the goddamned place. But Scott responded scrupulously –he had no idea where she went, but he knew she had been working at a bar somewhere to earn extra cash. But, he said, he knew she wasn't working lately. But she promised to return, sort of. And then there she arrived, just in time. Her scents were mixed and suspicious, but even those faded by the time their gazes met. Marie. Where had she been, he wanted to ask, but she was so moody and ambiguous. Asking her more questions would probably drive her away so he kept his mouth shut.

Whenever Logan heard the young men in the mansion planning to ask her out, he had growled at them shamelessly and told them to think again. He didn't even bother to explain himself, all that was clear to him was that they couldn't be with her, no. Not when he's around. Even when he wasn't around, actually, but that wasn't the point, was it?

Whatever makes you sleep at night, bub.

Logan was teaching in self defense classe when he saw Scott's brown head pass by the hallway. He smelled the usually-sane-turned-snappy mutant walking down the corridor, probably on his way to the common room with the wide screen TV. The man had been watching television more than the average person, he wondered when Ororo would start doing an intervention.

My Marie, Wolverine chided. She's there too.

Annoyed once again with the thought that those two were so familiar with each other, and thinking about them kissing and fucking –OH FUCKING HELL NO! "Get a partner and practice, I'll be back soon, NO SLACKING OFF, I'll KNOW IF you guys didn't do what I instructed!" he said in one breath and slid out of the room to follow One-Eye.

You fucking slowpoke.

And that's where he caught them. Sitting beside each other like he and Marie would have months ago. Watching TV. Laughing. It made him want to tear them apart with his claws. He always had Marie all to himself whenever he was in the room, even when she had been dating that Ice Prick –how long had he taken that for granted? Marie would look at him like he meant the world to her. Meant. Past tense.

Fuck that.

His heart did a jumpstart when Rogue excused herself and went out the other door. She knew. She knew he was watching.

He followed her so quietly he even surprised himself he was capable of that shit. No one was around, and he liked to believe she'd spare him some of her time. He felt like they needed to talk –what about, he didn't know, but he had to try. When he blocked her path all of a sudden, he decided to ask the only thing on his mind, "Why aren't you talking to me?" He recoiled in his head about how pathetic he sounded, like he was a kid who wasn't allowed to play with his new toy.

"I didn't know I was supposed to," she answered.

She didn't? Logan felt angered and betrayed. But as he watched her, he saw Marie –his Marie, looking a little lost and helpless, caught in the thoughts and voices in her brain. Fondness, affection and a whole lot of other things he couldn't explain flooded through him. He just had to hold her close, so he gave into the need and took one big step towards her and trapped her in an embrace.

The embrace was initially a good one. It was meant to be innocent, between friends. But then she called out his name, "Logan!" and that's when all the inappropriate things swirled in his head, especially now that his body could feel every inch of her softness squeezed against his. It was addictive. He wanted to push harder, see how much he could do until she moaned. It was… "Logan, are you t-trying to hurt yourself!"

Her skin. Her beautiful alabaster skin, now tinged with pink. He liked it, like the breathy tone of her voice and the soft locks of hair tangled in his arms. Bet she didn't think he would embrace her like this, like he wanted her. "Marie…" he heard himself saying, and it felt foreign to his ears, because he sounded so desperate, so whipped. "I missed you. I miss you." I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry, his rational brain thought, but I want more. More. His hands sought out her skin, and the only place where he could touch her without barrier was her long, smooth neck, and so he did. He let his palm rest on that warmth, felt her hair weave through his fingers, felt the soft beat of her jugular against his palm. She was so alive, so here, so soft. He waited for the pull, but it didn't come.

Instead, she moaned.

Fuck, he thought. You weren't supposed to sound like that, baby. He knew he was hard, but thankfully his jeans were tight, but his belt buckle was probably poking her to death. Logan wanted to slide his hands lower, cup her ass and lift her up. What the fuck am I thinking? "M-Marie…" She had sense enough for both of them when she pushed him away; when did she become that strong? He wanted her back in his arms, but why the fuck…

"Did I hurt you?!"

Marie, the only thing hurting me is the cock strained in my jeans. He could only stare at her, get lost in the sensations their contact made…

Was she wet? he wondered foolishly. Because she was. He could smell the sweet aroma invading his nostrils. Fuck.

He couldn't move. One wrong move.

Fuck, Marie was a kid. She…

Before he can do anything else, she saved them once again by being the one strong enough to leave.

He missed her already.

He was still hard.

Wolverine was laughing in his head contentedly, mocking him.

What the fuck just happened?