It was a simple routine, but one that had taken hold in Logan's life, and he clung to it in the face of all the horrible things he'd done and seen.
The Blackbird landed and he and the other battle-weary X-Men disembarked, not even the desire to shower and change out of blood-stained and smoky uniforms encouraging them to move faster than a snail's pace.
Logan pushed past them once they were in the hangar. He knew Rogue would know they were home. Xavier always kept the inactive partners informed as to a mission's progress. Which meant she would be ready and waiting for him at their special place.
The memories of their first time together there made him smile, even through the residual grimness of the night's work. He carelessly stripped off his torn leather uniform, replacing it with a pair of sweatpants. He stopped upstairs for a quick check on the kids, sleeping soundly in Kitty's care, before heading out to the lake.
The moon was bright and full, though with his hunter's vision he didn't need the light. He was grateful for it, though, as it gilded Marie's floating form, transforming her from flesh and blood to alabaster and platinum. Her body was a chiaroscuro of love and desire, each curve limned by the silvery light, the white streaks in her hair beacons calling him to her embrace.
He quickly shucked the sweats and joined her, his touch once again transforming her from cold, untouchable stone to warm, welcoming flesh.
Gone were the days of worrying about her skin; a second dose of Magneto a few years after the Statue of Liberty incident had taught her the secret of control. Gone, too, were the days when he believed he might have loved another woman, or felt guilty for loving a girl.
She'd grown and changed, become confident -- a leader, a woman. He remembered the night she'd seduced him, a siren clad only in moonlight and adamantium tags, offering love and the comfort of her body after a particularly bad mission. That was before she'd learned control, but he hadn't cared, hadn't feared her lethal touch. He'd only wanted to drown himself in her, the symbol of all that was good and right in his world.
And then, after her first failure, the night Carol Danvers had locked on and not let go until she'd overwhelmed Rogue's mind with her own -- he had brought her here, calmed her and held her until he was sure that she was in charge of herself and the intruder had been pushed back far enough to allow Jean and the Professor to help her sort through it all.
Ever since, for Logan and Rogue, every mission ended at the lake. Since the advent of their children, they didn't work as a team anymore -- even though Logan hated being left behind, he understood the need to make sure that James and Rose had one parent safe, in case -- and that was as far as he ever allowed the thought to go.
Now, Rogue swam languidly around him, all long-limbed grace, a mermaid making her home on his metal-tempered reef. She circled closer and closer, until he reached out and slipped his hands around her waist.
He kissed her hungrily, drinking in the lake water mingled with the fine wine of her taste, drunk on her and always needing more to feel satisfied.
She clung to his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his hips as he caressed her back. He slid one hand into her wet hair, cradling her head; with the other he repositioned her so he was poised at her entrance.
She broke the kiss, gasping. "Logan, please."
His answering grin was wicked and he slid home into the tight grasp of her warmth, filling her completely.
They paused for an endless moment, two halves made whole in love, gazes locked and foreheads pressed together.
Then she leaned in for another kiss, her grip on his shoulders tightening as she used them for leverage to begin moving. He stood still, a rock, as she pumped her hips, the friction driving them both a bit crazy.
Finally, he took control, walking them out to the bank. He laid her down in the shallows, the soft mud molding to her body as the speed of his thrusts increased. She slipped her hand down between them to circle her clit; he groaned at the sight of himself sliding in and out of her as she pleasured herself.
He felt her go tense, breathing in short, sharp pants, and then she grunted his name as her body convulsed around him. Shuddering, he let himself come, bracing himself on his elbows so he could cry his release into her mouth.
He rolled them onto their sides so he didn't have to rest his weight on her, and yet they still remained joined. She draped one leg over his and brushed her hands down his chest, making the muscles ripple in response.
"Oh, what you do to me, Marie," he murmured, the name on his lips used only in the throes of passion.
"I'd like to do it again, if you're ready," she teased, earning a thrust from his hips, his cock hardening already.
"I'm always ready, darlin'."
"I love your healing factor," she managed as he slid all the way out, then plunged deep, lengthening and slowing his strokes to prolong their pleasure.
"I know you do. Think I might be worth keeping around for a while?"
"Uh huh. God, Logan. A very long while," she whispered, nipping at his neck, then laving the already disappearing mark with her tongue.
"That's good, kid, 'cause I'm not planning on going anywhere." A thrust. "I like it right here."
She closed her eyes and met his hips with her own. He came first that time, and she followed, with a longer, deeper orgasm that made her purr in sleepy contentment.
"I love you, Logan."
"Love you, too, Marie."
She drifted off to sleep in his arms, and he watched over her. Later, he'd carry her back to their room, but for now he was content to lie side by side, beneath the luminous moon.
End
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Three fandoms, three couples, one scenario. Based on Nightswimming by REM, but not songfic in the traditional sense. To read the other two stories in the triptych, go to http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool/nightswimming.htm. Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, and Meg. I blame Pete. And REM.