The first time was a complete accident. It was early summer, when the time for sunset was starting to creep past dinner and curfew for the students at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The thought of feeling the warm sun on her bare skin tempted her past all common sense. That was how she found herself completing her night time ritual of lotion before bed in front of the window with the curtains open wide. Not that she had to obey curfew anymore, nor had she for years. But it was nice to take some personal time after a long day of teaching and training, no matter what form that “personal time” took.

She thought there was no way anyone would see her. After all, her room was tucked into the back of the mansion-turned-school, along with the rest of the teachers, with only open grounds until trees took over, marching up a hill toward several century-old follies, all of which was too far away to allow unseen viewers a peek at what no one but she had ever seen--the Rogue in all her full, naked glory. And she was glorious, even if she was a biased judge.

So she felt safe luxuriating in the only intimate touch she could know, as she always did while pampering herself with the custom-made lotion that cost far too much but made her feel divine and feminine in a way the few boyfriends she’d had never quite managed to do. If she lingered a bit longer thanks to the warm setting sun radiating through the glass of her window, she didn’t think much of it other than how good she felt. Even the paranoia that crept up on her after she finished her top half, which caused her to turn away, wasn’t enough to pull her away from that heat completely. It felt almost like a caress along the skin of her back and buttocks by the time she was done with the lotion, to the point where she had to climb into bed with the trust vibrating dildo from the website Jubilee directed her to a few years ago.

It wasn’t until the next day--or rather, night--that she found out she wasn’t quite as unseen as she’d thought. It was a quick mission, or at least it was supposed to be. In and out, a pick up gone wrong thanks to the Brotherhood. She wrenched her shoulder enough to make it unusable. He noticed her left arm dangling by her side once they made it onto the Blackbird, and he touched her cheek for the quick draw they’d become accustomed to over the years, only a couple seconds but enough for her to borrow his healing. Those brief touches weren’t even usually enough for her to pull more of “him” into her mind, although at first she’d been quick to warn him it could still happen. But he always shrugged and smiled that grim smile of his, and she knew he thought that and the momentary dizziness were worth the possibility of helping keep her in one piece a little longer. Once he pulled his head out of his ass, he was good at keeping promises.

That night, his thoughts and emotions were so strong upon feeling her skin against his that she almost didn’t pull away in time, and she had to hide her shock so he wouldn’t notice once the weakness of her draw wore off. Because of course, he had seen her. Of all the people in the mansion, he was probably the only one who even could have. Not only that, but he received more pleasure from seeing her than she would have imagined--a lot more!

Underneath the shock, the thought secretly thrilled her. Not that she ever thought there could be more, but because she had provoked that sort of reaction without even trying. And thinking about it later while tucked into her bed, long past the hour she normally retired, also turned her on more than she ever thought possible, enough that she fumbled for her trusty toy once more.

And that’s what really started it, the thought that he might try to spy into her window at the next sunset, and the next. And if she took a few seconds longer exploring her own body each time, if she drew out the experience with the thought that he was out there watching, all the better for her own orgasms at the end of her show, as she liked to think of it. And the very thought that what she did could cause him to lose control like that was enough to send her into the most intense orgasms she’d ever experienced, even if in the end she went to sleep craving more.

And so she spent the next few months, even as her class load lightened to summer courses taught to the in-house students, one or two a day instead of six. That gave her more time to dwell and anticipate the evenings and the glory of the setting sun in ways she’d never thought of before.

Then came another day, toward the end of summer, when a mission pulled both of them away from the mansion together. For the last few months it had been difficult, but not impossible, to act normal around him. The lack of certainty about whether he actually saw her after that first time wasn’t enough to make her edgy, but she definitely thought about it whenever he was near, and she wondered if he could smell her arousal. Surely he could, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t remark on it, especially since they were never totally alone and so he couldn’t have been sure what triggered it.

That day, on that mission, of course she got hurt, this time a gunshot in her thigh. And his eyes when he looked at her wound before he grabbed her bare hand in a grip she couldn’t pull out of. There was something different there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on until his energy, mutation, and memories came rushing into her. And he didn’t let go until the wound closed and the bullet dropped from her skin to ping onto the floor of the Blackbird, at which point she was able to use his borrowed strength to pull her hand out of his and then catch him, careful to avoid more skin contact, as he fell unconscious toward the floor.

He saw. He saw every single time. It had become the highlight of his day, as it was hers. She almost dropped him when she caught that thought among the chaos whirling around in her mind. Somehow she managed to carry him over to one of the jump seats and get him buckled in for the flight home, with Hank hovering at the edge of her awareness as this was a rare case where Logan actually passed out.

Rogue found her seat more through muscle memory than anything else. Inside her head, she spent the flight processing and arguing with her “inner Logan,” as she liked to think of it, which hadn’t had such a complete update in a while.

He was growly in an irritated, embarrassed sort of way at first, and she realized that he thought she would be disgusted by what he thought of as voyeuristic tendencies. The mental laugh she gave at that thought quieted the growls and almost escaped into actual sounds, although she kept it in. His interest was definitely piqued by her own memories of how excited she got from even the thought of him watching and getting off on her.

Of course, the trip was just long enough for the real Logan to regain consciousness since it wasn’t a complete drain. And of course, she was so busy staring ahead as she worked all that out in her own mind that she didn’t even notice they’d landed until Ororo touched her shoulder on her way out. Oh, and of course the damned man had already taken off.

He knew. He had to know that this time the drain was deep enough for her to get a good chunk of him in her head. Which meant he’d hightailed it out of there to try and avoid a confrontation. Silly man. He forgot she received more than his healing powers when she drained him.

Rogue strolled with purpose through the mansion and out onto the grounds as she followed his scent. It was almost too easy. She couldn’t help but wonder if he expected her to follow him after all. His voice inside her head didn’t think so. Logan wasn’t thinking much at all, only brooding. That fit, of course.

She wound her way through the thickening trees, lit by moonlight, toward the small gazebo that, yes, would have a good view of her window at this height and distance, especially with his enhanced senses. She could see the patterns on her curtains, drawn at this time of night and with no reason to have them open. Each small green diamond stood out against the gold, reminding her how much she loved it--and how much detail he was able to see.

His scent was thick in the gazebo, old and new, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed and sat down on the bench to wait on the bench she knew he used when he watched her. He would come back. He was drawn here, night after night, although it was much too late for him to get his usual show. Their usual show.

She was correct. Soon she heard the sound of his footsteps drawing closer. She knew the moment he caught her own scent on the air. His steps faltered, hesitated, before he trudged onward. She stood, not wanting to be at a disadvantage when he arrived.

His scowl should have been enough to weaken her knees. She was sure that wasn’t his intent, though. He was angry with himself. It was time for him to understand that he didn’t need to be.

She let her lips quirk up into a sly smile. When he finally met her eyes, she could read the shock in those hazel depths even with only moonlight illuminating them, shock that caused him to hesitate once again. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she liked the idea that she could make the great Wolverine stop in his tracks, even if only for a moment.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” she purred, head tilted a little to the side so that the long fall of her hair hung over her shoulder. “Something bothering you?”

His jaw dropped, but then he clamped it shut and surged toward her until they were nose to nose, bare inches between her deadly skin and his.

“You think this is a joke?” he growled.

She raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of him. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this. He always turned to anger to mask other emotions. Not happening, bub.

“Did you think you were the only one, Logan?” she snapped. Time to turn the tables on him a little with her own confession.

“Huh?” That seemed to drain every thought out of that handsome head of his.

“I’ve known for months, since the last time you touched me.”

She watched that sink in. Awareness slowly crept up into his eyes, followed by a dark gleam that had her swallowing against a suddenly thick throat. Her eyes widened slightly, but she allowed a hint of her previous smile to come back.

“So every night…”

“Every single night, I thought there was a chance,” she admitted, tilting her head to the side again. “I liked it.”

Hints of their arousal hung in the air around them as they stared at each other, each one daring the other, although to do what neither was exactly sure. Both knew what they would like to have happen, if it wasn’t for her skin. That was always the ultimate, and deadly, barrier.

“You wanted me to be watching you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Her voice thickened into the honeyed sweetness of a Southern drawl she rarely let loose after years of living in New York. “Every time. I’ll give you one guess what I did after I left my window,” she teased him, her smile widening when he growled.

Finally he broke their impasse by lifting a hand to smooth it down her shoulder, protected by the leather of her uniform and his glove, all the way down her wrist. Even with those layers, her skin became enflamed under his touch, and when his fingers circled her wrist and jerked her forward, all she could do was gasp a little, any warning dying on her lips. He knew the risks. They both did. His other hand lifted to run a thumb over her bottom lip, tugging on it in a way that was oddly erotic.

“I’d rather watch,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched for her reaction.

The idea went straight to her gut, or parts lower, and settled there in an amazing wet heat. They were both instantly aware how much she liked that idea. In fact, maybe too aware. She wasn’t sure she approved of the smug grin lighting up his face, no matter how good it made him look. However, her traitor mouth was against her.

“Same here.” She raised her hand, still gloveless, up and ran it through his hair, where it was safe. “After all, I’ve got the memory of what it felt like, but to see you like that…” She licked her lips, flicking her tongue against his thumb where it still rested next to her mouth.

His eyes shifted up and over her head. “You know, there’s this room I wouldn’t mind getting a closer look at…” he murmured.

“Hmmm, really?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” She broke out of his grip, pulled her gloves out of the pocket on her thigh where she kept them, and tugged them on. She danced away a few steps, laughing, before turning and running toward the mansion with him hot on her heels.