‘Innocence is never what you think it is,
Every flower has its purpose,
It’s lure for the bee.
This is yours…’

The four lines were burned into his memory now; he could see her lips forming each word as her voice lingered in his mind. He’d torn the damn letter open and now he was busting a gut to get back home. The images she’d laid out in there for him had become his favourite dream, this morning he’d woken so hard he’d hurt. In all the years he’d been on the road he’d never woken like that, he’d wanked himself sore that morning but it didn’t solve the itch, the need to feel her wrapped around him, buried as deep as he could be in her body. Growling as he fought the road he was on, as soon as he was able he was contacting someone and they were coming to get him.

Even now as he drove his erection nudged at the confines of the denim he wore, sometimes having a healing factor can be a disadvantage.

( I know you find this difficult Logan, mind you so do I when I see you walk past me without a shirt. I’ve lost count the amount of times I’ve wanted to run a tongue down your skin, to taste you, to lose myself in the forest of your body. Jesus Logan you can be dense, I know you caught my scent more than once but you must have put it down to the others I was stood with. Hormonal teenagers aren’t the easiest thing to sort out in your head (trust me on that one) but Logan every time you passed by me you passed through my thoughts too.

The road from home to Laughlin wasn’t smooth for me, had to give a few hand jobs to get to the next town an no matter what the adverts say, ‘cherry flavour’ ain’t ‘cherry’. Thing is Logan I was felt up, groped, wanked over but no one ever ‘came in’, cherry flavour or no cherry flavour. Always said I had my period, most men don’t even want to know and if you tell them that your last bathroom was over five hundred miles back they tend to get the message.

So when I snuck into your trailer I was hoping for something more than just a lift if I’m honest with you and myself. I wanted to touch you, to have you touch me too, even if it was just for a ride but seeing you there at the bar, alone…well lets just say I think we both needed the company. I did wonder how we’d have managed later if we hadn’t had been interrupted by Sabretooth, I mean I got from your memories that you were already interested in me. Wolverine was anyway an I think it’s time you listened to the things he’s been telling me, you see whether you acknowledge him or not they’re still inside your head and I think it’s time we both admitted to having them.

The first one he gave me was just after the stabbing incident, when I’d gone out of the area, senses rocketing I’d gone to calm down. Ororo found me pretty quickly and left me to it in the small rec room just off the library, I didn’t fancy going back to bed. Too many questions and too many scents, so I just took to a chair and that’s when Wolverine showed me what you’d been thinking about me. About what we’d have done if the mangy fur rug hadn’t dropped in.

We’d have stopped for the night, there’s nothing along that road for nearly six hundred miles and you knew that, you wanted to lose yourself for a while. When we’d stopped you’d have just crawled out into the back, no invitation, no message but the one you were making with your actions. Then coming forward and pulling me out of the seat to sit across you on the bed, knees either side of your thighs. Rubbing your bare skin along the fabric of my jeans, feeling the heat of me through them, face level with my chest. Dropping your head into my covered breasts, your breath warm and scented, my hands being put on your skull by you. Keeping you there as you nuzzled into the warmth and heartbeat you found just under the deadly skin I told you about. Sensing my fear but making me trust you, your mouth nipping and biting through the cloth of my clothes; you don’t want something I can’t give you. You want everything and if it means getting creative to get it you’ll do it, but you want to see if I’m complete first.

I’m so lost in the feel of your hair, of your skull against my chest that I don’t feel the slide of your hands to my hips but I feel you as you pull me towards your dick. The heat, the raised bulk of you against my thin denim, my nerves you put down to fear but I’m riding the seam of my jeans and you feel so fucking good. You’re grinding me down against you, making me wetter with each pass over you, making sure to get your fingers between us, rubbing my clit, holding me tight as the first waves of it go through me. You can sense by my reaction that I’m not used to this, I’m shuddering against you, my hands lost in your hair, eyes tight shut against the feelings that have just exploded across me.

But it’s not enough, not for either of us and you’ve got me up and on the small table across from the bed before I can even come round. The sound of ripping denim is loud in here and I’m still coming down when your tongue runs over me through the slit in the denim. Your hand’s are gripping my arms to keep me still, I’m lost, floundering in feelings that I can’t comprehend and your just growling as you taste me. Then your up, one hand undoing your jeans first while still holding me down, before you position me, your finger checks me out. Testing if I’m ‘complete’, if you’re the first to enter here and when you come to the thin barrier inside me your lost as much as I am. My eyes are still closed as you lay me open, your huge hips widening my own. Pulling me down so you don’t have to hit your head against the roof, there’s a sliding pain and then we’re joined.

One hand goes to my hip, keeping me down and open, the other over my head and through the table, you’ve put a hole in it with your claws for extra leverage as you fuck me. Because Logan that’s what we’re doing, fucking, you don’t care about my age, you don’t care if I want to do this, you just want me, all of me, someone just for you, someone you can teach how to suck your dick the way you want them to. How you like them to bend at the waist, grip their ankles and offer themselves to you, letting them do whatever you want to them. You’re being a bastard, an animal an you know what? It’s what I want too.

I laid in that chair all night and I my hands weren’t still Logan, they used that memory more times than I care to admit to, Jesus I even painted it, the canvas is hung on the wall of the art room. Everyone here thinks it’s an abstract but if you turn it ninety degrees you can see that it’s the tear of my jeans and what everyone thinks is a block of dark colour is your dick sliding home inside me.

I found it hard to deal with at first, that you could do that to me, that you *wanted* to do that me, but writing your thoughts and feelings down in the diaries made sense. It helped me to understand that there were parts of you that fitted with my own darkness, that underneath this shell there really was a Rogue and she wasn’t still at coming forward. I survived the journey to Xaviers because of her. And accepting her was accepting you, all of you, Wolverine and Logan, just like you risked everything for me up on the torch. That’s the next thing I want to show you, what I took from you up there, not just your healing but something else. Something important.)


Her words had made him cringe at first, the base way she’d described one of his most favourite fantasies of her, that the whole incident with Sabretooth hadn’t happened. That he’d taken possession of her that night, used her for his own release, kept her like that for weeks, finally resting when the fight season was over. Taking her home and fucking her rigid for hours, taking everything she had to give and more.

The track was bumpy and his dick was sore but Jesus he needed to be inside her soon, his mind filled with her scent from the letter’s edge. She’d let him go, let him loose in the world with this information in his life, hidden for him to find when he felt like it. She’d let him make the choice of whether to read what she’d left him; he’d tried to make her a friend when from the start she’d been more than that. Ever since she’d crawled into his eye line at the bar, her form hidden by the cloak she still wore in winter back in Westchester.


He concentrated on the road, of getting to a phone and calling for a pick up, he needed to be with her and he didn’t need anything. His mind went to the information she’d put on the other side of the single piece of paper he’d found, what she’d taken from him on the torch. What she’d known since that touch on her skin, what he’d left behind in her head, who he’d left behind inside her and who’d been fucking her from the inside out ever since.

(Logan this will be hard for you to grasp but I want you to read this through before you do *anything* okay? It’s about Wolverine, or what I carry round in my head that’s part of you, a piece of you and what he gets upto with me.

Now you’ve read my journal, the real one and so you understand what pain he put me through but the thing is it wasn’t all painful, it wasn’t all nightmares and horror. He loves me, he comes to me sometimes after the nightmares, when I’m trying so hard to relax and sleep. He gives me the other side of you, the one who’d love to touch me, who’d love to hold me, thing is he never sees my mutation as a problem. The way’s he found of getting around it are myriad and creative especially using oil (light body oil not grease although he did share that one while we doing a class on motors with Scott). I know the difference between mucus membranes and skin thanks to him and I know when you get home there’ll be no ‘cherry’ between us that first time.

I’m telling you this because I want you to come home knowing that I understand you, what drives you to take what you need without asking, shit Logan I wanted you to stay but you needed to go, to be alone and I let you. I could’ve hidden in the camper again but that wouldn’t have been good for either of us; you’ve needed this time to get your head in the right place. In the now, not the yesterday or what could’ve been, I’ll wait for you to come home but if you don’t want me you’d better tell me when you get there. Let me have the inner you, the one who fucks me, the one who savours every touch he can get, the one who plays with my clit with his tongue like a pearl in a shell. The one who loves me inside and out, the one who tells me how much he needed to hear me say that I was ‘Okay’ after I fell out of the Blackbird, the one who even now is telling me that you’ll come home after you’ve found this letter. The one that wants me to share the dream which is your favourite just so you know it really is *you* in here the one dream you’ve told me over and over is the one you’d have wished to have happened. So here it is….)

He’d read it through, six times before he’d admitted it to himself, that it was the ‘one’, the thing is she’d never let him know about it, never let on that she knew. Not once, not in her movements or her treatment of him, that she still understood even after telling him ‘that’ dream. It had kept him warm over nights when there’d been no warmth in his world, no light worth holding, it had kept him alive, the hope that one day it’d happen and she’d told him at last that it was possible with her.

He pushed the old engine into the red, knowing that the road he was on would take him to a logging outpost, he could sell everything he had there and call for pick up. He’d make it if he drove all night, the thought of Marie waiting for him made his aching body twinge even more but it made him get there in half the time.



Marie saw the Blackbird go, it’s engines burning blue in the night sky, she was awake again, the nightmares in her mind were acting up as usual. Her cycle had moved to that area of the month where the taste of copper and iron in her mouth mingled with the charred pork taste of human flesh burnt to the bone. She hoped whoever they were going to rescue had the sense to take what was offered to them, too many times lately had they gone out only to have the mutant refuse their help. Trying to be normal when the world obviously didn’t want them around, shrugging her shoulders to the sight of the blue engine fire she took her mug back to her room. Her journal was open to a fresh page and her mind would soon be clear again, and hopefully this time she’d be able to sleep a full four hours before dawn.

Something woke her, she’d fallen asleep finally as she’d finished writing, the journal was still on the bed open and her writing was visible in the half light of the false dawn but so was the hand that was reaching for it. Her gaze followed the hand upward, her body resting still as if sudden movement would finally destroy what she thought was a dream, she watched in silence as Logan read the words on the page before folding it shut and letting it fall to the floor.

She watched as he stripped his shirts, felt the weight of his frame on her single bed as he unstrapped his boots, taking off the socks and balling them up into the empty tops. Never speaking to her, just stripping himself bare, resting naked in her room before pulling the duffle to his side. Pulling out something soft and covering, dressing again in soft thin cotton, leggings and socks, the pale colour of the fabric hiding nothing of his form from her gaze. Turning toward her finally, an open question on his face, would she accept him into her bed?

Moving onto her side she let him fill the empty space with his bulk, the springs creaking under their combined weight, pulling her into his arms, covering her with his body against the world. She didn’t speak, neither did he, they both knew the dream, they both knew the outcome of it, what the morning would mean. When she moved her things from this room into his, sleep finally came when the dawn painted the ceiling a deep pink, reflecting the colour of the roses outside against the white of the paint. Marie felt his heartbeat slow down, his breath at peace, a smile on his face as they fell asleep together. Who’d have thought it, that the one thing he’d dreamed about the most was this, this simple touch of another on his skin. The weight of their body against his own without fearing him, without having to wonder if they’d be hurt by him, that they’d wake and stumble away from him with hatred and fear filling his nose. That he needed touch as much as she did, that he craved it even more, something so simple, so easy yet something too hard for him to ask for, a weakness he dare not let anyone know about.

No one came to disturb them, the morning passed into afternoon before they woke fully, the dreams for once were pleasant for the both of them. The other half of their souls had been found again, understood and yet there were questions to answer, things to share and a life to build. Marie woke first, seeing her internal lover here in the flesh made the one in her head react, she wanted to him to touch her, to show her that what he’d been doing to her inside her mind wasn’t just her own wish fulfilment.
“Logan?” She shook him a little and lifted her leg across his groin, feeling him react to her movement with his own shifting against her. When he opened his eyes the smile that crept over his face told her more than words ever could, her own smile mirroring his own. “Want to show me what you’ve been doing to me in here for nearly three years?” Logan stretched and pulled her small frame over his erection rubbing her down his body and seeing her skin flush with the sensation. His answer was deep voiced and all for her, a mix of Wolverine and Logan.
“Darlin’ I’ve been waitin’ just as long as you have.” He drove the point home by thrusting up into her hips which he held steady over his own, “Sure you’re ready for me now?”
Marie growled in frustration and pulled on his hair, dropping herself deeper into his thrusts, riding the sensations he was finally pushing through her body in reality instead of dream.
Laughing Logan took everything she’d offered him, everything she’d told him, everything that had been shared between them through her diaries, through her letters when he’d been all alone out there.



Epilogue
--------
It was two years later when a fund raiser was going on that Logan decided to let everyone else in on what he knew, he walked over to the painting on the wall, picked it off the hanger and turned it ninety degrees. Suddenly the image was plain to see, he turned to look at the room with a smile on his face and walked out of the room with a struggling snorting Marie. She made it to the doors before she just let the laughter bubble out of herself, the richness making his own laughter ring out across the shocked voices behind them, Ororo’s voice trying to explain the artwork to the guests. Knowing that she’d be catching up with them later, it had been worth it, their love wasn’t usual and as such they did the unexpected but to each other it was as plain as writing on a page.