"I have a plan."
"A plan?"
"Yeah, a clever plan."
Logan stared at Rogue across the pool table. "Tell me, genius, what's the plan?"
As he bent to take his shot, she said, "We go away for the weekend and we have sex."
The eight ball flew off the table and slammed into the wall, as the cue ball ended up in the right corner pocket. She bent and picked up the eight ball as he stood and stared.
Finally, he said, "Not funny, Rogue."
"I'm not kidding."
He leaned against the table, absently stroking the pool cue. She shivered, imagining those hands on her body.
"You and me go away for a weekend and have sex. And this does what exactly for us?"
"It solves our problem. I won't follow you around anymore like a wounded puppy. You won't growl at every guy I bring home and drive them all away so you can have me to yourself."
"You've been reading 'Cosmo' again, haven't you," he said in resignation.
"Come on, Logan! The sexual tension between us is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I swear, sometimes just the way you look at me almost makes me come." He swallowed, her words making him hard. "Like that!" she continued, her voice triumphant. "Right now, you're picturing me naked, aren't you?"
"Marie--" It came out more as a whine than a growl.
She nodded in satisfaction, filing away the use of her real name, which indicated deep emotion of some sort from him. "I thought so." She cocked a hip and looked at him, lower lip pushed out in a pout that had been labeled adorable by more than one admirer. He returned her stare with a heated gaze of his own. "So, what do you say?"
"Why do we have to go away? Why can't we do it right here?"
"Because then everyone will know."
"You're ashamed to be with me? Is that what you're saying?"
She exhaled, exasperation clear in her expression and the way she stood, hands on hips. "God, no! But think about it. If you and I get together here, someone is bound to find out about it. What happens when people find out about it? They start asking questions. They think we're in a 'relationship.'" She made sarcastic air quotes. "I know how much you hate that. This way, we do it, get it out of our systems, and no one ever has to know."
The curl of his lips told her how skeptical he was, but she was certain this plan would work. She'd tried everything else to get over him over the past five years, up to and including almost getting engaged to Remy and trying to cultivate a crush on Cable, of all people. That had lasted until she'd met Domino. Rogue was tough, but she wasn't stupid.
He nodded once. "All right. Let's go."
She blinked.
"Now?"
"You got something better to do?"
She fought down the waves of excitement and nervousness that flooded through her. She tried to sound nonchalant when she said, "Guess not," but she couldn't keep her voice quite steady. "Let me go get a bag."
"You're not going to need much," he warned. "I don't plan on letting you out of bed for too long."
She gave him a dark look. "My skin--"
"Oh, your skin, your skin!" he mocked, rolling his eyes.
She knew he was teasing, he wore his ‘I know you can’t resist me’ grin, but she still worried. He might not take her mutation seriously, but she had to.
"Logan--"
"Believe me, your skin is no problem. And if none of those guys you dated knew how to get around it, then they were even stupider than I thought."
She smiled, her expression softening from anger to tenderness. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
He grunted and shrugged one shoulder. "Go get your stuff. I'll be in the garage."
Rogue spent the ride up to Xavier's cabin in the Adirondacks fighting off the jitters. She never noticed the autumnal glory of the trees lining the highway. Logan glanced over at her a few times, cigar clenched between his teeth, and she was reminded of their first ride together, the day they'd met. He'd had that same speculative yet wary look on his face, and she'd had the same excited dread gnawing on her stomach.
Of course, that day, she hadn't expected she'd get to sleep with him, ever. In fact, up until a few months ago, she'd never expected it, had worked hard to get herself to give up on that fantasy, because he'd only ever treated her like a kid. She was, as Bobby had put it once, when she'd refused yet again to go out with him, Gilligan to Logan's Skipper -- always the little buddy, never the love interest. She neglected to mention the Gilligan/Skipper slash fiction she'd found on the Internet, and walked away with a smile that left Bobby baffled.
She shook her head. Thinking about Gilligan and the Skipper was putting the brakes on her arousal, and she didn't want that. She knew her scent was driving Logan crazy, and that thrilled her in ways she didn't even have words to describe.
She didn't know what had effected the change in his attitude. Maybe he'd finally been away long enough to notice that she'd grown up when he got back. Maybe seeing Jean pregnant with Scott's baby made him realize he'd never had a shot there.
All she knew was that suddenly, the air between them seemed to crackle and every conversation took on a double meaning. The hot, hungry stare that used to follow Jean now caressed Rogue, making her limbs heavy with a sensuality she'd never felt before, and causing her to remain in a constant state of arousal. She knew Logan was in the same condition, and the jeans he wore didn't allow him much room for denial.
Her eyes drifted down to check out the way his erection was straining at the tight denim as they sat in the slow-moving Friday afternoon traffic on the Thruway.
With mischief in mind, her hand landed on his thigh, her fingers slowly climbing toward his groin.
He growled in response, and she took that as permission to continue her exploration, until she reached her goal. He let out a hiss when she stroked him. The jeep swerved violently when she unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand into his boxers.
Through the thin silk of her glove, she could feel his heat as she gripped the shaft and gently stroked him from base to tip.
He rumbled again, low in his chest, encouraging her to continue as his grasp on the steering wheel tightened. She closed her eyes for a moment, calling up faded images, memories of how he liked this done. She jacked him harder, her eyes locked on his face, trying to read him. He continued to grunt, and began to thrust into her grip.
And then suddenly, he grabbed her hand and growled, "Stop."
"Logan?"
"It's not safe."
She blinked.
"You're lecturing me on auto safety?" she squeaked.
"Ironic, ain't it?"
Remembering once again their first meeting, she said, "Just don't hit any trees."
He snorted. "Okay."
She was silent for a few moments, looking out the window as he fixed himself up, keeping one hand on the wheel.
"Is it me?" she said finally. "It's me, isn't it? I did something wrong. Because you like the danger. You love the risk." She recalled his memories of riding down the Pacific Coast Highway in a convertible as a redhead sucked him off. Every man's American dream. "So it had to be me."
He shot her a concerned look. "No, kid. It's not you at all." He paused, then, "Well, no, maybe it is you, but not in the way you mean," he continued quickly as she gasped and stiffened. "I mean, I never cared before, if something happened. If we got into a crash -- I knew I would heal and, well, I didn't really care about any of those women. I mean, I didn't want them to get hurt, or anything, but I never even thought about it.
"With you -- I worry. I don't want you to get hurt, and if I get too excited and drive us off the road into a ditch, you could get hurt. And if I get knocked out or something, I can't help you. So, it's just safer to wait." She had a warm fuzzy feeling in her belly at his words. Which wasn't quite what she expected, and she had a vague hint of doubt that this idea wasn't going to work the way she planned. She thought he was done and opened her mouth to speak when he said, "And we still have an hour to go. I didn't want to make a mess."
She giggled. "Of course not."
They arrived at the cabin about an hour and a half later, having stopped off at the local supermarket to pick up some food for the weekend.
After she unpacked her own bag, she opened his.
She stared into it and fought to keep the laughter bubbling up inside from escaping, because he'd hear it and he probably wouldn't appreciate it.
Underneath the pair of jeans, white tee shirt, hunter green corduroy button-down and four pairs of white socks, there were two pairs of long johns, three unopened packages of Hanes Sheer Elegance black tights, two sheer scarves (green and white) and four -- no, five boxes of condoms. Twenty condoms each.
One hundred condoms.
“Dear God!” She collapsed on the bed, unable to help herself, laughing hysterically.
He opened the door to the bedroom.
"What?"
She stood and dumped his bag out on the bed.
"Going a little overboard, don't you think?" she asked, indicating the abundance of condoms.
He grinned wolfishly, which made her melt. "Told you we wouldn't be leaving the bed." A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Well, maybe for the bathtub. And that couch looks sturdy..."
"I don't have a healing factor," she reminded him.
"I'm willing to share," he replied, and, still grinning, he pulled her against him, molding himself to her back, his hands running urgently over her hips.
She shook her head. "Don't even joke like that, Logan. I don't want to hurt you. This is -- we have to be careful here."
He sobered immediately. "You're right," he whispered, brushing his lips down the white streak in her hair. She shivered, relaxing into him as he stroked his hands soothingly over her. "I've got it all figured out. Tights for you or long johns for me. Whatever you want. We'll be fine."
He kissed her neck through her hair, and she moaned, pressing herself to his body. She ran one gloved hand over his cheek and then up through his hair, resting her head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder and grinding her ass against his erection.
He continued his exploration of her body, gloved hands slipping up beneath her sweater to cup her full breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. When his thumbs brushed over her already-hard nipples, she moaned and arched into his hands.
He kept up a steady stream of encouragement, whispering in her ear how hot she was and how much he wanted her, as his hands moved from her breasts to her waist, unzipping her jeans and skimming down the slight curve of her abdomen.
"Great minds think alike," he smirked, slipping his hand into the elastic of the tights she wore beneath the jeans.
"Mmm, Logan," she moaned, barely able to catch her breath as he found the tangle of curls between her legs and ran a finger along her wet folds. After a few soft strokes, he found her clit and circled it with his thumb; his left hand continued to tease her nipples, first one, then the other.
It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. His hands, his lips, the brush of his whiskers against her skin -- it was better than she'd ever imagined it could be, because it was Logan. Her fantasies hadn't begun to match the reality of sex with other men, and sex with other men would never measure up to this for her. Later, she would worry about that; for now, she simply reveled in the sensations he produced.
He played her body like a violin, gently but with a firm hand. She tried to get enough leverage to thrust against his fingers, rubbing herself along the length of his body as they stood before the bed. Her whole body tightened like a bow string, and he whispered, "Come on, Marie, come for me." His mouth latched onto her neck through her hair, and he sucked, hard. She bucked against him as her muscles rippled, sending her spinning through the exquisite force of orgasm.
"Inside me, Logan. Need you inside me," she gasped, slumping against him.
"I thought you'd never ask," he said, laying her on the bed and brushing his lips against hers too quickly for her skin to react.
He grabbed a condom, then pushed the contents of his knapsack onto the floor, snagging the white scarf as it floated in the air.
He wafted it across Rogue's face, and leaned in for a kiss.
She eagerly met his lips with hers, and when she gasped at the current arcing between them, he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
Kissing Logan was almost as overwhelming as being fucked by him, she noted in some distant, still functioning part of her mind. The same part of her mind that was sending up warning signals about how not clever this plan was.
As usual where Logan was concerned, she ignored the logical part and gave into the physical. The feeling of his tongue sliding along hers through the wet silk sent a warm liquid feeling through her body, centering on her sex and radiating out.
They broke apart long enough for her to whip the sweater over her head and toss it to the floor. He already had the scarf wrapped around her torso so he could nibble and suck at her breasts. She fumbled with his zipper; when she got it open, she shoved his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, pushing at them with her feet when her hands couldn't reach. He did the same with her jeans, then carefully cut a small slit in the crotch of her tights.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"Yeah," she said, stroking his already-slick cock, enjoying the feel of his hard, hot flesh under her hands, even through the silk of her gloves.
Before rolling the condom on him, she ran her thumb over the slit in the head, then sucked on her finger. It wasn't as good as being able to taste him directly, but it was something. And it obviously pleased him, because he groaned, "God, Rogue."
He hooked his hands behind her knees so he could wrap her legs around his hips, and then he slid into her wet heat.
She locked her ankles and bucked up against him when he stopped moving. "You all right, kid?"
"Better than," she said, raising her face to take his mouth in another searing kiss.
He was so gentle, so – loving -- that she could forget this was about sex and nothing more. Even though she knew he had to be frantic -- the tension in his arms and the sheen of sweat covering his face told her that -- he moved slowly, in long, deep strokes that were driving her crazy.
Again, she thrust her hips to meet his. "I'm not going to break," she assured him with a smile when he hesitated.
"You sure?" he asked, pushing the sweaty hair off her face with something akin to tenderness.
"Oh, yeah."
So he sped up, making her thrash wildly beneath him. She was never so grateful for his strength as she was now, since he was able to balance on one hand while with the other he again circled her clit. She felt the tension in her body spiral tighter and then she was on the edge of a precipice of feeling, a moment of clarity before plunging over into the abyss of pleasure waiting below, and she knew.
"I love you, Logan," she blurted, just as she came, raking her nails down his back in her frenzy.
So softly that later she figured she'd imagined it, he whispered, "Love you, too, Marie," as she felt him shudder and come.
Post-orgasm, she'd always been one to fall into a deep sleep, and this time was no different. When she woke, it was dark, and he was gone. She felt a brief moment of panic, that she'd scared him off with her unguarded words.
Then she remembered some advice he'd given her when she'd started dating: "Never believe a man who tells you he loves you right before he comes, while he's coming, or right after he comes."
So he wouldn't have put any stock in her words; hadn't he even said it back, proving that it didn't really mean anything? Even though she'd meant it.
She pulled her sweater back on and called, "Logan?"
"In the kitchen." She walked the few steps to the kitchen, where he was unwrapping the steaks they'd bought earlier. "How's dinner sound?"
"I could eat," she said with a smile.
"Good." Another wolfish grin. "Gotta keep your strength up. It's a long weekend."
"Mmm hmm." She gave him her best seductive smile and went back into the bedroom.
She took something from the drawer in which she'd put her stuff, and went into the bathroom. He wasn't the only one who'd packed a few surprises, she thought, changing into a sheer black nylon bodystocking with a convenient opening at the crotch.
It was new -- she and Remy had broken up before she'd had a chance to wear it, and her sex life had dried up in the fifteen months since then.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she grinned wickedly. She had a feeling Logan would like it as well. Her gloves were the only thing missing. She had a pair of extra-long opera gloves in the same sheer fabric, since the bodystocking was sleeveless, but she couldn't wait to see his reaction, so she went out into the kitchen.
"I'm ready," she said. He was slicing the cantaloupe they'd bought, so he didn't turn around right away. To get his attention, she cleared her throat and said, "Looks like a nice, juicy one."
"Yeah," he answered. "Just gotta use your nose --" He turned and looked at her and his words petered out. "God." It was a breath, no more. "You look incredible."
She blushed and reached out a hand for a slice of melon. "Thanks." The cantaloupe was as sweet and juicy as it smelled, and when she bit into it, the nectar dribbled down her chin and into her cleavage. He swallowed hard and leaned toward her as she finished chewing and licked the juice off her fingers. "Mmm."
"Yeah," he said, his hands already at her hips as his tongue licked at the drops of juice clinging to her breasts.
She picked up another chunk of fruit, taking a small bite and offering it to him. He ate it from her fingers, not even flinching at how close his lips came to her bare skin. She made a low noise in the back of her throat, and then he was lifting her onto the table, pushing everything aside so she could lie flat.
"Logan?"
He raised an eyebrow in response, grabbing a handful of chopped cantaloupe. "Lie down." She did.
He ran the pale orange fruit over her lips, growling a little when her tongue came out to swipe a drop of juice off the corner of her mouth. Then he traced it down her neck and over her breasts, circling the hard peaks of her nipples and then licking and sucking. She moaned and squirmed, her legs falling open naturally to let him stand between them. He popped the chunk of fruit in his mouth and chewed it, a wicked grin on his face.
"I thought that was for dessert," she said, panting.
"Maybe I'm a dessert first kinda guy," he answered, taking another piece of melon and skating it over her body, then licking the trail it left. "Though you know, cantaloupe can also be an antipasto." She moaned in response, as his hands massaged her breasts, sending currents of pleasure through her body. "And I plan to make a meal out of you."
She groaned at the cliché. “You make the lamest jokes, Logan.” He chuckled, and she shivered at the feel of his whiskers through the sheer material that kept him safe.
Another piece of cantaloupe, and he knelt between her legs, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. She jumped when the cold fruit ran over her wet sex, and he laughed softly. "This is gonna be so good, kid. So good." His voice was hoarse as he placed the fruit on her abdomen so he could slip his gloves on. He rubbed the cantaloupe against her swollen folds, then licked it. Her eyes widened as he swallowed the fruit and smiled. "God, you're so sweet. You taste so good."
"I think that's the cantaloupe," she managed, as he began the sweet torture again, with another chunk of cool melon, circling it against her clit before taking it in his mouth.
He laughed. "Trust me, it's not."
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small sheer square of cotton. Once again, he skated a small chunk of melon along her folds, but this time, he pressed the cloth to her, and traced her labia with his tongue.
"Logan," she groaned. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, and buried his face in her mound, licking and sucking eagerly. She ground her hips against his mouth, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her tight passage while working her clit with his tongue and lips. She grabbed the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension, and strained toward her release.
"God, Logan. I'm going to come. God, Logan. Logan!" Her hips bucked against the table and her legs tightened around his head as the powerful orgasm washed through her. She felt a sudden gush of wetness and he pulled back slightly, face damp with her come.
He licked his lips greedily. "That was fun."
"Uh huh," was the only response she could manage, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm. He slid her boneless body down onto the floor and used his tee shirt as a barrier so he could kiss her. He tasted of cantaloupe and him and herself; sweet and sticky and pungent and right.
It was right.
She just didn't know if he felt that way, too.
They cleaned up, ate dinner, and spent the rest of the night and the next two days in the same fashion. When they weren't having sex, they were cuddling, talking, sleeping.
Rogue was very careful not to let her feelings show again. She didn't bring up the future, or even the fact that they idyll would end on Monday morning when they drove back to Westchester. She tried to convince herself that this was what she wanted, was all she needed from him.
Unfortunately, it didn't work.
Rogue woke abruptly, as the nightmare that had her heart racing and her palms sweating faded into the dim light of the pre-dawn.
She shifted in Logan's arms, turning to face him.
He looked younger and more innocent in sleep, the grim lines on his forehead and around his mouth smoothed out, his hair sticking up wildly at all angles.
They were going back to the mansion this morning, and she realized that her clever plan had been the biggest mistake she'd ever made.
She swallowed the tears that threatened. Now that she'd been with him, had had his full attention for three days, she didn't think she could go back to being friends and nothing more. She was in love with him. Always had been, if she was honest with herself. And it was much worse knowing what she was missing out on than it had been never having it.
She struggled out of his embrace. He grunted but didn't open his eyes. "Rogue?"
"Bathroom, sugar."
He let her go, slipping back into sleep.
She turned the water on to cover the sound of her tears, and sank to the tiled floor of the bathroom, sobbing into the damp towels that smelled of him.
Logan turned over and felt Rogue's absence. The sheet was cool.
Shit.
She'd gotten up to go to the bathroom, but she shouldn't have been gone long enough for the sheets to get cold. He tensed, worried, until he heard the water running. Shower. She's taking a shower. But the sound wasn't right. And he heard something else that the sound of running water couldn't quite cover.
Crying.
Fuck.
He rushed to the door, wide awake.
"Kid. Kid, what's wrong?"
He heard her sniff. "Nothing. Go away."
"Open the door, Rogue."
Another sniff. "No."
He tried the handle -- it wasn't locked.
"Rogue--"
She looked up at him, eyes red and swollen from crying; her nose was running and her hair was snarled.
"Marie, what's wrong?"
"This was a mistake," she choked out.
He felt his heart drop into his stomach. He'd never quite understood what people meant when they said that; now that he did, he wished he didn't.
"What?" He folded himself into a sitting position on the floor next to her. "What do you mean?"
"This whole thing. The plan. The clever plan wasn't so clever after all, was it?" She sniffed and rubbed at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. "It was supposed to finally help me get over you. I'm so sick of being 'poor little Rogue, pining for Logan.' I thought, I thought--"
"You thought this," he gestured between them, "was about sex."
She nodded. "Didn't you?"
"No. We've never been about sex, Marie. That's why we're us."
"But--"
"Shh." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she laid her head on his chest. He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head and said, "You know I suck at this heart-to-heart business, kid, but I think this could be -- this is what love feels like." He buried his face in her hair, hugging her to him.
"Love?"
"Yeah."
"So, maybe it was a clever plan, after all?"
His lips hovered over her ear as he replied. "Yeah, I think so. And I've got another one. We don't have to be on the road until noon. We haven't tested that glider out back yet."
"It's cold out there, Logan."
"I'll keep you warm."
"Sounds like a plan."
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, and Meg. And thanks to Beth, who makes me laugh. This cantaloupe's for you. Spot the Frankentim reference if you can. *g*