The song has gone on long enough and I reach up to turn it off. Then it strikes me; I haven't had a radio in years. Haven't had a bed or pillow either. Something about this scene is familiar, and I realize; I already did the seventies version of this.
Turning my head I quickly take in my surroundings. She isn't close by, but the pillow smells like Marie. The adrenaline shoots through me yet I resist the urge to jump up and go off half-cocked in a search.
Letting my senses be a guide, I latch onto another scent. It's familiar, but not as strong as Marie's. Sitting up I see the crib at the far wall. Laura. My heart starts beating wildly in my chest, I've been out of hope for a long time, but I don't want this to be a dream.
Slowly, I make my way to the crib, taking in the impersonal nature of the room as I go, one of Xavier's guest rooms. Looking down into the crib I don't need the scripted L emblazoned on the frilly blanket to know this is Laura. Same dark hair, Marie's nose, and complexion are enough.
I want to hear her sweet cooing again, but I hesitate at disturbing her. Marie probably spent a good deal of time putting her down and won't be happy to have me waking her. Laura's breathing is even in deep sleep and I settle for watching her a moment.
Meanwhile, I can hear the sounds of kids changing classes in the background. Then I hear a familiar walk, unmistakable even in sneakers. She pauses outside the door saying goodbye to Kitty and Jubilee.
The door opens and I'm gripping the railing of the crib so tight my knuckles are white. Marie's scent rushes in filling the room, I want to drown in it.
"Hey." The hushed tones of her sweet Southern accent slide over me, soothing my nerves. "Baby girl still asleep?"
I grunt. Can't get anything else to leave my mouth. In fact, I have to remind myself to breathe.
"You were supposed to pack after your shower. Looks like you took a nap instead," she reprimands me. She's messing with a duffle bag that was on one of the chairs. "Logan?" This time she sounds concerned.
Prying my hands loose, I turn to face her. Damn, she's more beautiful than I remembered. All curves and long hair that I can tangle my hands in.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." I try to put on a smile, but it feels shaky. I want to believe this is true way too much. "Woke up from a nightmare."
She stops what she is doing and puts the bag back down. "The future one?" she asks, stepping over to me and placing a hand on my sideburn. "Do you need to talk about it?"
"No." I rest my hands on her waist. "I think they're over with."
Squinting at me skeptically, she finally pats my cheek. "Good, get to packing mister."
I don't let her leave; instead, I start working my hand under her shirt. I need to touch her, reassure myself she isn't going away. "When was the last time I told you how beautiful you are?" She blushes and averts her eyes.
What the hell is wrong with me in this timeline that I haven't told her, just saying it makes her blush? Then I remember that you take very little for granted when you're living so close to death every day. With a quick look around I can tell that there was no urgency here. We had time, there was always tomorrow to tell her how I felt.
"You're beautiful, I'm lucky to have you." I kiss her then, soft at first so I can explore her mouth.
She lets out a little sigh of pleasure before pulling away. "We should be packing," she insists, her Southern drawl thick and seductive.
"Mmm," I agree. If there is time for packing then there is time for other things. Nuzzling her neck, I can smell her arousal and press my cock into her belly.
She giggles as I hit a sensitive spot and pushes me away playfully. "Logan," she chastises unconvincingly.
I slip my hand under the waistband of her sweats and try to walk her back to the bed. I need to show her how much I need her, how much I've missed her. She doesn't even budge; looking down at her I'm worried something's amiss in this timeline I've not picked up on.
"This ain't about packing." That wouldn't be Marie in any timeline; she hates to pack after carrying around that huge duffle when we met. No, this is something else, more serious. "Did Hank or Jean-"
She cuts me off. "No, no. Everything's fine." Yet she is looking everywhere but at me.
Gently, I place a finger on her chin and turn her face until our eyes meet. Raising an eyebrow I wait for an answer.
"I'm out of shape," she sighs heavily, shoulders slumping.
"Really?" I ask pulling at the neckline of her t-shirt and glance at her breasts. "Look good to me."
Flushing bright red, she lightly smacks at my hand. Despite the smile that has crept on to her face she's serious. "I haven't trained in almost a year and there are lines...Everywhere."
So that is the big hurdle, Marie is self-conscious about the way her body has changed. None of it matters to me, she is alive and we are still a family, though I can see she needs some reassurance.
"I'll be the judge," I tell her. She eyes me doubtfully, but doesn't say anything or resist as I pull off her shirt.
My hands settle on her waist. "Still fits right," I observe before skimming my hands up her sides. A shiver goes through her and her scent grows stronger. Unhooking her bra, I slip it off her shoulders and drop it with her shirt.
Gliding my fingertips across her chest, I cup her breasts. "Hmm," I put on a frown. "These might be larger, I'll adjust."
Marie snorts at me but doesn't protest any further. In fact, she leans toward me for a kiss as I move my hands lower. She wraps her arms around my neck and presses herself into me deepening the kiss.
She pulls back, teeth tugging at my bottom lip and I start to push her sweatpants down over her hips. Peeking over my shoulder at Laura, Marie huffs quietly, "What if she wakes up?"
I tilt my head, listening to the baby's breathing. "We're good unless you start screaming."
She pushes my shirt up. "If I remember right, I wasn't the loud one."
"Only one way to find out," I comment when she gets my shirt off and kicks off her shoes.
This time she lets me walk her back to the bed. The rest of our clothes have been shed and I draw her down beside me. I want to go slow. I promised myself more than once in the other timeline that when I got the chance I would take my time and make love to her. But with the way she's touching me, I don't know how long I'll last, especially since I'd pretty much written this possibility off.
She pushes me onto my back and straddles me. The hesitation is back and it appears like she wants to ask permission to be in this position. Then I remember how young she is and the fact that she probably let me take the lead due to experience. The Marie I remember took the initiative because of the life we led; here there's been no need to.
"Anything you want, Darlin'." I make a mental note to work on letting her take charge more often.
I watch her intently, not wanting to miss anything. She blushes a little under my gaze but doesn't stop until I'm buried inside her. Caressing her thighs, I wait for her to make the next move.
Leaning over she kisses me and begins to move. Slow at first then setting a pleasurable pace. Her head is tilted back, breasts swaying in my face and I cup them, thumbing her nipples. She gasps and stalls in her pace, definitely overly sensitive.
Carefully I nip and lick at her breasts when her rhythm picks up again. From the set of her jaw, she has her teeth clenched trying to keep quiet. I grab her hips as the first wave of her orgasm hits her, hoping to keep her moving. She's so damn beautiful I have to shut my eyes as my own release burns through me.
When I open my eyes she's staring down at me, still gently rocking. Finally, she smiles, giving me a quick kiss before tucking herself into my side. I'm at a loss of what to say, Marie and I have only ever had practical small talk afterward. I'm not sure what we've been like in this timeline but it can't be massively different if we made it this far.
"Love you." It's barely a whisper, but the most heartfelt statement I've ever made.
She pushes herself up and studies me; I can tell my tone has caught her off guard. "I love you too, Logan. Very much."
She draws some random patterns on my chest with her fingers for a moment. Making up her mind, she pats my chest, "Come on mister, you have some packing to do."
I chuckle and get up with a groan. Apparently, we don't do pillow talk after sex now either. "Yes, ma'am. Off to the little cabin in the big woods." She smiles brightly and throws my pants at me.
I know the minutes I've counted in this timeline. Soon I'll be able to count the days. Maybe counting isn't so bad this time around.
~*~
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