Story Notes:

Thank you to my lovely beta RogueLotus for all her hard work and a great title. The blame for this fic rests on Hurtslikeyourmouth for her constant posting of Wolverine and Rogue pictures and listening to Honky Tonk Man ( I was hearing this one, but Dwight Yoakam's Honky Tonk Man would make for an excellent third part.)

By now a couple of whiskeys have been downed and he's nursing a beer. He's searching the crowd, looking for the right one. It's the same every time, only he's held out longer this time. Trying to convince himself he can control it.

I didn't understand at first, only saw that Logan would disappear for an evening. The pattern was always the same. There would be a need for us to work closely together or I'd help demonstrate a maneuver in his defense class, anything that brought us in close contact. Then he'd avoid me for several days until he went out for the night. Afterward, things between us would go back to being more or less normal.

This time thought was different. I took a nasty fall in combat training and something snapped. I only remembered being dizzy and on the verge of throwing up with Logan standing over me. Next thing I know, I woke up in the infirmary, the smell of leather and cigar smoke filling my nostrils; the taste of longing on my tongue.

Over the next couple of days, I put the pieces together. I prepared carefully. I needed to be at the bar. I needed my longing satisfied too.

My outfit was well chosen; close to what I would normally wear, but without all the layers. Denim jacket over a long sleeved top, flirty skirt with tights and my cowgirl boots. I always wore my hair down, or in a bun for training. Tonight I had Kitty help me do one of those fancy braids that are in fashion. I'm every bit the cowboy's dream.

The fake I.D. that Jubilee procured for me, got me in the bar no problem. The bartender didn't even blink when I ordered. I perched myself on a barstool to sip my beer and wait.

The bar has filled up, overflowing with the crowd. I'm being bumped and elbowed, but I have enough confidence in my control to not worry about these quick touches. A familiar presence presses into my back, a gruff voice calling for a drink over my head. A shiver runs down my spine. The smell of the crowd and a dab of musky perfume mask my scent.

Logan leans forward for his beer, his chest sliding against my shoulder. A come hither smile on his lips as he glances at me from the corner of his eye. Just as quickly he takes a second look and almost drops his beer.

"What the fuck…" he trails off as recognition dawns on him.

I pour on all the Southern accent I can muster. "What's wrong, Sugar? Did you forget your manners?"

I can hear him curse under his breath, a growl rising in his chest. The only problem, it reverberates through me and I purr in response.

He takes off like a shot, the crowd parting ahead of him. I hurry to catch him before he disappears. Grabbing his sleeve, he slows. Though he's facing away, I can see the way he is gripping his beer and I'm surprised it hasn't shattered from the force.

Please, Logan, let me explain." I'm begging, pleading for him to stay, to give me a chance.

He looks over his shoulder at me; his eyes are hard and unreadable. I tremble with fear. He's never looked at me this way, the usual softness is gone. I've stepped over the line in the sand and there is no way things will ever be the same again.

Nodding, he changes direction and walks toward the back of the bar. The crowd is thinner here; he finds an empty booth and takes a seat. I slide in opposite him; he places his beer in front of him, an added barrier between us.

I think of asking if he chose me for the evening before he knew it was me. But we both know he had. There's no need for idle chitchat, my mere presence tells him I know about his nights out. I've seen his memories of the women and the nooks and crannies they step into for sex.

"I want to be her tonight." My statement is blunt and raw out in the open. He almost flinches. Tonight I want to be the woman who stands in for me.

"No." He doesn't even consider it; he's reasoned it all through a thousand times before.

I turn away. I want this even more now than before. If our friendship is going to die, I want at least a token of what I wanted it to become.

"Why?"

"You're my student and too young." Longing has crept into his eyes and I can see what a toll this has taken on him. The small laugh lines around his eyes that I helped put there have started to fade. Smiles have been harder to come by as of late.

"Not too young to understand what you struggle with." I tap my head. "I'm eighteen and won't be your student in a couple of months."

Unmoved, he takes a drink of his beer. I didn't really expect those arguments to work; they were the false fronts we put up to keep from the real problem between us. Logan thought he was too: jaded, rough, violent, close to his animal nature; take your pick, to be any good for me.

"You think I'll find some nice guy and settle down." I know that's what he thinks is best for me. But that wasn't necessarily what would make me happiest. "It will make me bitter. I'll end up in places like this looking for a man that will give me what you won't."

He looked up at me sharply. It is a low blow, yet we both know it is a possibility. Nothing in our lives has ever turned out for the best, except that we have each other.

"Rogue…" He doesn't say Marie because Rogue puts more distance between us as he prepares himself for what is ahead. He swallows hard like there is an impossibly large lump in his throat. "You don't know what you're asking for. It would be hard and fast, just like everyone else."

I should be jumping for joy, he is caving. I will get what I came for, however, it has left a cold, nervous feeling in my gut. What if he is right? What if I can't handle Wolverine and his needs? I take a steadying breath. That is what I want to find out.

"Promise?" It's the only what I know to get him to follow through. He has never broken a promise to me. I'm also sure that it will hit too close to home for Logan. I'm hoping it won't be about some anonymous woman satisfying his urges, but he will see me for who I am and what we can be for each other.

"I need this more than I've needed anything from you before."

He stares into his beer, jaw clenched. I shift uncomfortably; I hadn't realized until this moment what was really driving me. It's the same longing and desire that has been driving him, but up to this point, only one of us was getting them taken care of.

"Okay," he says flatly and drains his beer. "I promise." He isn't happy about this, but he will go through with it. I want to smile, but there's a ball of nervous anticipation sitting in the pit of my stomach holding me back.

"How do we go about this?" I ask. I scan his memories for frequently used back rooms and alleyways. Those aren't my preference, but that is the type of place I signed up for.

Standing up beside him, I slip my gloved hand into his. He pulls me through the crowd and out to the street. In silence, we walk down the way to his truck. For a second, I think he means to have sex on the front seat, but he gets behind the wheel and starts it.

Dutifully I click my seatbelt into place. A small smile works its way to the surface, remembering the last time we were in this position. It was a year ago, bit it feels like a lifetime. I was so naïve, to what waited for me. Though I do wish I could recapture the simplicity of my relationship with Logan.

Talking about naïve, I'm sure I'm the least interactive partner he's had. Unlatching my seatbelt, I scoot over to sit beside him. "Should I be doing something?" I ask, running my hand up his thigh.

"No, just a couple more blocks." His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight all the color has drained from them.

I wait in the truck as Logan pays for the room. He exits the office and waits at the front of the truck for me. He's turning the key over in his hand and looks at me for the first time since he promised.

"It's not too late to change your mind. I'll take you back home and we'll forget this ever happened."

I smile at him. "Thanks, but you know neither of us is good at pretending." He flinches at my words, then stares at me for a moment. Finally, he nods and leads the way to the stairs and down the walkway to the room. The click of the door closing behind us is loud and I move to turn on the light.

"Don't," he says as he draws the curtains on the wall of windows.

In the low light, I can see a small round table with two chairs, a queen bed, and a low dresser with a TV on top. The whole thing is outdated, but I see no indications that this is an hourly rate motel. Logan tosses the key on the table and takes off his jacket.

I follow suit, but he stops me before I can get my jacket off. "Don't bother, we won't be here that long."

"Oh." I pull my jacket back on and watch him take several items from his jacket.

He puts a foil packet in the pocket of his flannel shirt and pulls on a pair of gloves. Turning toward me, he walks me back into the wall. My heart is beating wildly and I suck in a breath as he presses into me.

I will him to make eye contact, but he looks everywhere else. I had hoped he would look at me like he so often does, full of hope and longing. Apparently, I've already forgotten what this is supposed to be about.

He grabs my shoulders, pushing me flat against the wall. His lips are hard, tongue thrusting into my mouth before I can respond. I'm ready to protest, tell him to be careful of my mutation, but he breaks away. He moves to nipping at my jaw then trails his tongue down my neck.

All his touches are timed to the response of my skin. He never lingers anywhere long enough for my mutation to react. That's where the gloves come into play when holding my flesh for prolonged periods might be necessary. I steal a glance at him. His eyes are tightly shut; it is the other part of what he does to fantasize that these women are me. He doesn't need to do it now, but its part of the game.

I asked for this. I wanted to be that woman and trying to make this something softer won't satisfy either of us. Not that this coupling will, but I need to see this through to the end.

Logan's hands are busy. One is cupping my breast thumbing a nipple and the other is up my skirt. Even through two layers his fingers are magic on my clit. I hear him inhale my scent; he knows I'm ready from just these few touches.

Pausing he frees his cock and rolls on a condom. "Stay still," he commands me as he releases an inch of blade and cuts a slit in my tights.

Roughly he hoists me up, arranging my legs around his hips. I do my best to hold onto his shoulders as he slicks himself on my wet folds. His breath is heavy in my ear and I moan when he teases my opening with the head of his cock.

I want him so badly I can't stand it. If I'm honest with myself, I know I've wanted this since I first saw him in the cage.

His stubble rakes against the sensitive spot beneath my ear as he shifts my weight and thrusts into me. I try and fail to hide the shock of him entering me for the first time. His hands soften their grip and he curses under his breath. The moment stretches out too long.

"You promised," I whisper into his ear.

He growls at me, not liking to be reminded. Wrapping my braid around his fist, he pulls my head back and lightly bites my neck. His other hand tightens around me and he starts a slow testing rhythm. My discomfort has slackened and I relax, trying to move with him.

The pace quickens and he dips his head to suck at a breast through my shirt. Feeling secure in his grasp, I move my hands from his shoulders to explore his body. Without stopping, he firmly places my hands above my head and holds them there.

I lose what friction I had and huff in frustration. He doesn't care as he continues thrusting into me. This was what he meant. I really didn't know what I was asking for. I'm still as naïve as the day I climbed into his trailer.

In protest, I push my hips out from the wall. He grunts, sliding deeper. It's what I need. The tension begins building with each movement of his hips. My leg slips and the tension starts to spiral out of control when he loses his rhythm. I glimpse him biting the collar of my jean jacket as he comes. He slows, then stills and he lets me slide down the wall until I'm on my own two feet.

I'm left leaning on the wall as he leaves to dispose of the condom. I stand there dumbfounded, body still tingling from the encounter. I know with my whole heart that if I don't push this further; don't make him change this around, something between us will be irreparably broken. And I will spend the rest of my days trolling bars, looking for that connection.

He walks back stripping off his gloves and stuffing them in his jacket. "You need to clean up before we go?"

"Is that it?" I ask. I'm left unsatisfied, though from his memories I know the women usually aren't. But then again he picks those with enough experience to take care of their own orgasm.

"Yes." He won't look at me and I can hear the strain in his voice.

"Can we…" Asking for seconds doesn't sound right.

Logan turns his back to me, putting on his jacket. He's finished with small talk. "I'll take you back to the mansion."

I close the distance between us and block his way to the door. "No." I stand firmly in his path. If I let him take me back now he'll be gone before daylight.

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, I pull out a condom and press it into his hand. He looks at me now and there is pain in his eyes. It matches the ache in my heart and I am determined to mend them both.

"I'm not finished, Logan."

"Please, Marie."

I have reduced him down to begging, not for me to join him, but to leave him alone. Maybe I need to rattle the cage of the Wolverine. Wake him up, because the man fucking me up against the wall just a few minutes ago was not him. Unless he was on a leash.

"Kiss me," I beg.

I place a hand on Logan's sideburn. His eyes are locked on mine and a bomb goes off in my stomach. An explosion that draws back in on itself; tightening and twisting my insides into a knot. Desire flickers in his eyes.

It's almost as hard as before, but I force him to slow down, soften. The timing isn't as good and I get a small pull of the animal beneath the surface. Impatiently waiting his turn, clawing at the frayed edges of the man in control.

The animal wasn't wild and untamed, I realize, but just the part of Logan that was closer to nature, more in touch with the world around him. It's the part of the man society doesn't want to see unless they're betting on a sport or fighting for their lives. The part of us all that we like to deny. This feral part of Logan is what has always helped him survive. Finding the patterns in life and giving the man the edge in all circumstances.

The animal was the one who had figured out the timing of my mutation. Knows the warning signs and when to back off. The man is the one who knows the matters of the heart, the one who holds back the emotions.

Logan is staring at me, a flicker of hope in his eyes, yet the spark is dying and I want to add fuel to ignite it. I start to slip his jacket from his shoulders, but he stops me. He gives me a hard look, taking in the outfit that was meant to fool him and shakes his head. "I'll be in the truck."

This time, I let him leave, walk around me and out the door. I glare around at the little room. The room that saw the death of our relationship, whatever it had been and never would become. A tear slides down my cheek.

I let the door click shut behind me. I had gotten exactly what I asked for. There was no Wolverine that needed his cage rattled. Only Logan, the man who might have known what was best for me after all.
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