There’s something to be said for a girl like Rogue. Not that anything needs to be said on her behalf, because she says enough for two people whenever she parts those pretty lips of hers and speaks. And her green eyes flash like fire, and she doesn’t back down, not even when her best friend is in one of his darkest moods and crosses one of the only invisible lines left between them, the only dangerous territory that might tear them apart. Not even when Logan leans in close and growls, because he can smell that hint of desire on her, it’s there too often and too often lately he’s been tempted by it. “It’s a wonder you can complain that they think you’re oh-so-pure when everyone knows you’re lustin’ after a mad old dog like me.”

It’s as much an insult directed at himself as a jab at her, and her eyes flash with anger at both––eyes that used to be the color of Mississippi mud but are now brighter than any emeralds and have a lot more fire to ‘em. She stole those eyes, and some more mutant powers to go with them, and Xavier gets real quiet if anybody asks what happened to Carol’s mind. Rogue’s head is a dangerous place.

And Logan has to remember that when she looks at him real sharply like that and he knows she’s looking into him and he feels like she’s pinned him down with that stare.

She's more than willing to cross his lines right back.

Rogue leans in closer until their skin almost touches. She never lets anyone else this close, and Logan is the only one she’ll deliberately get this close to, and he knows it. “Yeah. Ah want you, Logan. ‘Cause I ain’t pure, and you know it, which is why ya want me just as bad. So while Ah’m a pervert, you’re a coward,” she snaps. Then she takes in a slow hiss of breath as the fury and pain flash across his features and he flinches away from her. “And even that animal part of ya that you’re angstin’ about fuckin’ knows it, because he’s afraid of me. He knows how well Ah know him, how much hurt Ah could cause ya, and he’s fuckin’ scared.”

Logan pauses for a moment, and Rogue can see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes drop to her hands as she lifts them and slowly tugs off first one glove and then the other, dropping them so they land loudly on the ground between them. “The question is, are ya gonna let that stop either of ya from pursuin’ what ya want?” Rogue murmurs, blatantly challenging.

There is the slightest change in her scent: the electric buzz of her mutation––like lightning and ice at the same time––vanishes, leaving just the warmth of Marie’s skin and the hazier musk of her desire, heavy and intoxicating.

Logan’s eyes widen. Her exercises, the mediation, the practice...but he couldn’t be sure. Not unless...

Rogue gives a faint moan as Logan grabs hold of her, his hands in her hair as he pins her against the tree she’d been leaning on, his whole body pressing to hers as her hands rake up his sides and clutch at him and his mouth falls on hers, kissing fiercely, hungrily, and God she tastes like everything he’s ever wanted. And her mutation never kicks in and she pulls him closer and arches her body against his and kisses him back with a kind of furious desperation.

They kiss for long minutes until his hips are moving against hers and she’s gasping for breath as she moves in tandem with him, and finally shudders in release, giving a low cry into Logan’s mouth and raking her nails down his back, her nails almost breaking the skin, which heals fast, but the brief flares of pain make him shiver.

Logan pulls back a little, panting. He extends the claws of one hand and soon her shirt and bra are on the ground in shreds. “Mine,” he growls, retracting the blades.

Rogue’s green eyes fall open, blazing bright and shining with bliss. She gives a low rumbling purr and wraps her legs around him. “Mine,” she counters, the expression on her face telling him in no uncertain terms that now that he’s claimed her and been claimed, things will be different, and she’s not afraid to hunt him down.

Strangely, the idea is thrilling to him. His hands caress her breasts and he watches her shiver. He grins wickedly and replies to her challenge by extending the claws from both hands this time, and slicing the denim of her jeans off of her invulnerable skin in two long, slow swipes.

And she just gives Logan a grin that could make the Devil piss himself, and rips open the front of his jeans with a bit of super-strength.

It’s an isolated clearing in the woods behind the mansion, and they aren’t discovered, but over the years, students will be led on training or class trips through the woods and see the one large oak with strange scars on one side: claw marks from the Wolverine, and hand-shaped broken dead spots in the shape of Rogue’s hands.

Oh yeah. There’s something to be said for a woman like Rogue.