Sound of running water drew her back from the parched dreamscape she had been wandering around for the past hours. Water. Close by. She cracked open her swollen eyelids. Hard, wooden floor under her back. She rolled on her stomach and rose on her hands and knees, mechanically, and scanned her surroundings. A faucet, attached to a wall. Walls around her. A room. A sink, and faucet, water running from it. She crawled to it and dragged herself up to quivering legs, ducking her head under the spray of water and drinking. She remembered Logan’s warnings earlier. Not to drink too fast or she would get sick. Reluctantly she turned off the faucet after few sips, then turned around.
Small room. Wooden floors and walls. A fireplace. Table and two chairs in front of it. A bed. Logan sleeping on it. Guns still strapped on, booted feet tangling over the side of the bed. He hadn’t gone to sleep. He had collapsed.
She turned back to the sink, turned on the faucet and drank some more. Took off her clothes and rinsed off as much of the accumulated grime and dust as it was possible. Feel of cool water flowing over her skin was heavenly.
He had stumbled to the settlement just after sunrise, Marie hanging limply on his arms. Generous wad of cash had ensured them a room from an inn. He had dragged his weary corpse up the stairs, sickening whine echoing inside of his skull. He knew he should have taken care of her, should have woken her up and given her something to drink. But he had been too tired. He had put her down on the floor, near the sink and turned on the faucet, hoping that the sound and scent of water would rouse her from her stupor. Mission accomplished he had walked to the bed, fully intending just to sit down for a moment to gather his strength. He had managed two whole steps before his legs had given up and he had fallen on the bed face down. Unable to move. Unable to stay awake.
Now somebody was shaking and prodding him. Fuckers. Didn’t they have sense enough to let him rest?
“Logan?” No. No Logan in here.
“Logan?” Why couldn’t they let him be? He was so fucking tired. They could go and get somebody else. There were others.
“Logan? Wake up.” Logan. There was no Logan. They had beaten him in to hiding. Was this some new way to remind him about that?
She wanted to clean him up. She didn’t know for sure, but she had a hunch that he couldn’t be very comfortable right now. Gritty sand chafing his skin, stench of sweat and blood coming off from him in waves. She had tried for several times to rouse him, but he stayed dead to the world.
“Wolverine?” She whispered hesitantly. Logan’s eyes blinked open and he sat up.
“Could you stand up?” Why the fuck the Mechanic sounded so scared? She had to know there was nothing he could do. He obeyed tiredly. She took his hand and led him to a sink.
“I’ll take these off and clean you up. You can go soon back to sleep. Okay?” He nodded mutely when she started stripping him from his weapons.
“Can you get your clothes off?” She asked. Yeah. He could do that. Probably meant that he was going to stay here for a while. Good. He was in no condition to go back to the field. He stumbled a bit, wobbling awkwardly on one leg, then on the other, kicking off boots and shrugging down his jeans.
Yellow gaze followed her every move with no real interest. Lights were on, but there was nobody home. She doused her shirt under the faucet and started sweeping Logan clean. First his face. Then neck. Low rumble, almost a purr echoed from deep within his chest when cool, wet cloth swiped behind his ears. Yet that blank look didn’t leave his face. She rinsed out the shirt and continued over his shoulders, down to his chest and back. Rinse, swipe and repeat. Rinse, swipe and repeat. A day before she would have balked at the idea of touching him so intimately, but she knew she had to get all of the sand away.
He could have done it by himself. She could have just left the rag and let him take care of himself. But she seemed so determined to clean him that he didn’t object. She even washed the crack between his buttocks. And he had to admit he felt already better. She hadn’t used any soap, but at least the thickest layer of dirt and grime was gone.
“Drink this.” A bottle of water was pushed to his hands. He downed it, eyeing the Mechanic absentmindedly. She was straightening the bed, dusting off sheets and blankets. She was naked. Firm, strong body. Had taken some damage at some point in her life. Old scars littering her skin. Well, fuck it. Everybody had scars.
When he lied down on the bed, Mechanic crawled under the blankets with him, still smelling scared, but wrapping her hands around him. A word rose to his mind. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he spoke it out loud.
“Marie?”
“It’s me, Logan…” Mechanic muttered softly, and scent of her fear started to evaporate.
He woke up disoriented and groggy. Last thing he remembered was walking up the stairs and opening a door. Heavy metal door of his bunker. Marie was sleeping, small body curled against his side. Events of the past days started to come back for him slowly. Narrow escape. Fighting. The desert. Traveler’s Inn. Another door. Door to this room opening. Then nothing. He let his gaze sweep over the room, taking in all details. Clothes and gun holsters on a pile on the floor, near the sink. Tattered backpack next to the bed they were sleeping on. Fireplace. Table and chairs. Scent of other occupants imprinted to every surface. Toilet seat next to the sink. Made out of steel. Heavy locks on the door. At least he had locked it behind them.
His attention turned back to Marie. Her lips were still swollen and cracked, but she was already looking much better than last time he had seen her. She must have kept drinking, because her skin was slowly gaining back its healthy glow. He turned on his side, trailing a finger over her features, from her eyebrows over her nose, over her lips. It made her wrinkle her nose and turn in her sleep. She ended up on her back, one hand still trapped between his neck and the pillow, the other thrown over the side of the bed. Her new position exposed her upper body, granting him full access to her breasts.
He spent few minutes just observing, watching how her ribcage moved just slightly with every breath she took. Finally need to touch her made him raise his hand and trail a path from her navel to between her breasts, to her sternum. She squirmed under his feather-light caress and turned back on her side. Quilt fell from her, ending to the floor, exposing her whole body. Angry bruising on her side, shape of the truck’s framework. Another bruise on her arm. Shape of his palm and fingers from when he had grabbed her in the garage. Both looked like they really hurt. And during the whole time she had said nothing. She had complained, all right, but not a word about his rough way of handling her.
“Hi,” she greeted him softly and opened her eyes. Small smile spreading to her lips.
“Hi. Thirsty?” He asked. She shook her head.
“Just glad that you’re back with me,” she mumbled scooting closer and nuzzling her face against his chest. He buried his face to her hair and breathed in deeply. Sleep, sand, and sweat, Marie.
“We got here. What do we do now?” Marie asked, lifting her head to look at him.
“We rest. Gather some supplies. Find a way to disappear.”
“That sounds like a good plan. How long do we have before…”
“Two days at tops. Maybe less. I should go and find us a vehicle,” Logan said, sitting up.
“Don’t go yet.” Her body curling around his waist and her soft plea made him swallow.
“Marie?” Her hands were sliding over his thighs, soothing bunched up hard muscles.
“Lay back down,” she whispered.
She was straddling him, hands caressing his temples and her lips grazing over his. He wanted this. He could smell her need, her want as well. His trembling hands rose and latched to her hips.
“Marie…”
“Hush…” She kissed him again, sliding her tongue past his lips, tasting him. He found it impossible not to answer. One hand still holding her hip, the other tangling to her hair, pulling her even closer.
She could feel Logan begin to harden under her and rolled her hips, enjoying the small jolts movement sent to the pit of her stomach. Logan gasped and sucked her lips more greedily, licking and nipping, making her moan out loud.
Coppery taste of her blood from her split lip rolled over his tongue, making something inside of him stir and pace restlessly. He pushed her up, cutting the contact, concentrating to her breasts instead. Palming them, worrying the nipples between his fingers until they were rock hard, taut peaks and she was nearly sobbing, rubbing her already wet mound over his hard length over and over again.
She leaned over his chest, licking one flat nipple experimentally. It caused Logan to groan and buck his hips against hers; crushing his straining erection between their bodies and making it rub against her clitoris. She repeated her action with his other nipple, giving it a gentle nip with her teeth. Logan’s hand wound in her hair, dragging her up again.
“Don’t.” His eyes were a lighter shade of brown than usual, small golden flecks making their way to the surface, giving his irises yellowish glow.
He let go of her hair when he was sure she had gotten the message. She leaned down again, this time nipping and suckling his throat. It made him arch his back and growl from pleasure. He could feel her slick folds around his cock, the throbbing core just waiting to be filled. He rolled them over, making her let out a surprised gasp. That gasp turned soon to a delighted mewl when he sheathed his cock in to her.
This time there was no pain. She cried out loud from pleasure when she felt him slide in, thick and hot length filling her completely. She wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Christ…” Logan whispered through clenched teeth before bending his head and taking her lips to a searing kiss.
He eased out slowly before pushing back in, small but strong muscles clenching around him rhythmically, milking him. He had often imagined what it would feel like, but nothing had prepared him for this feeling of slick, tight heat that enveloped him. He sucked in one pert nipple and her core gripped his shaft even tighter, making him hiss and let go of her breast.
She was teetering between clear and incoherent, tightening in her stomach spreading rapidly through her whole body. Her palms against Logan’s heaving chest, his head thrown backwards, throat bared to her, hips rolling against hers with steady pace that was slowly driving her crazy. She let her legs slide down from his hips, thighs spreading further apart and nearly screamed when the change of the angle made him bump against her clitoris every time he moved. Logan bent his head, pressing his forehead against hers, locking his hooded gaze to her eyes. They were both falling, tumbling over the edge. Muscles straining, sudden jolt making their eyes water.
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