The Xavier Mansion

She wasn’t in her room.

Logan padded silently through the house, following her scent. Ignoring the curious looks from the students, ignoring the curious looks from some of the newer staff. They wanted to say anything about him and Marie, they were welcome to try: She’d been graduated more’n a year. It had been three hours since she’d gotten out of Hank’s office and she still hadn’t come to see him. That alone made him nervous, even if he didn‘t wanna admit it. She always came to see him after she’d been through a fight. But tonight-The Kid wasn’t some little scaredy-cat who hauled ass at the first sign o’ trouble, he liked that about her, but she’d gone ten rounds with Sabre-tooth, and that’d put a dent in anybody’s armour. Lethal, life-sucking skin or not.

He pictured the look on her face when she’d made skin-on-skin contact with Creed that first time, and immediately felt sick to his stomach. He’d never wanted her to see the things Victor Creed was capable of.

Or the things he’d helped him do.

He could hear her crying from outside his door, when he finally caught her scent. She was giving out tiny, broken little sobs, the air about her perfumed with her distress. He pushed open the door to find her curled in a little ball in his favourite chair, her arms and legs pulled tightly about herself like she expected to be attacked at any minute. Her dressing gown almost hanging offa her shoulders, her little feet bare. Face scrunched up in so much pain he wasn’t sure how she could stand it. The bandages on her wrists and shoulder were ghostly against her flesh, and she was shaking so hard he was surprised she didn’t break apart right there where she was sitting.

This was a lot worse than he’d thought.

He crouched down in front of her, pulling the comforter off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. Chafed his hands against her arms, trying to warm her up. Pushed the hair back off her forehead, his hands coming to rest at the back of her neck, and that seemed to be all the encouragement she needed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close and within seconds she was curled in his lap, crying. Muttering desperate, longing, aching somethings so fast he couldn’t make out. For a second he was awkward, all fingers and thumbs and confusion. And then he began to rock her, his hands supporting her under her arms. Taking her weight onto himself and pulling her closer. Closer then closer still.

“It’s alright, Marie,” he whispered gently, “It’s okay, I got ya-”

He could feel her breath hitching in her throat then. Feel the sobs ease. She seemed so small, so fragile in his arms that he had to hold her tighter. It just wouldn’t be right to do anything else. He wanted to tell her to buck up, to offer her a beer and a sneaked night down at the Whiskey Trap like he normally did when she was poorly, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Creed had nearly killed her; in fact if Storm hadn’t gotten there in time he probably would have. He’d said later that he could smell Logan on her, that it was why he knew he had to take her out. “You know, little brother,” he’d crooned as he was led away, “I think she mighta liked me. Pretty little piece o’ flesh like that. Think I might have t’come back a-wooing, come May-”

It had taken Hank, Kurt, Storm, Colossus and Warren to pull him off the bastard. And if they hadn’t been there, he wasn’t sure what he’d have done to his former brother for laying hands on his Marie.

He realised that she’d stopped crying then.

She was staring at him now, her gaze intense and curious despite her red face. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she stopped him. Laid a careful finger against his lips, the flesh cool and soft. Suddenly what had started as an attempt to calm her seemed to be turning into something else. Something… unexpected. Something that was the last thing either of them needed, after a near-death experience.

Logan might have been a bastard but he was smart enough to know that.

“Marie-” he began awkwardly then, but she shook her head, silencing him. Shifting herself so that she was even closer to him, though her hands weren’t roaming. Yet.

“Just need ya t’be quiet for a minute, sugah,” she murmured instead. “Can you do that for me?” And those chocolate brown eyes gazed at him from beneath lowered lashes, her voice dropping to a deeper pitch he hadn’t known it possessed.

I could do anything fer you, he was tempted to tell her. But given their current situation, he didn’t think it’d be wise. To start encouraging her. Or maybe to encourage himself. So instead he nodded, muttering a gruff, “Sure.” Holding still like he would do fer Hank or Jeannie. Hoping that would be the end of the matter-

But then hope was fer morons. Everyone knew that.

Because Marie closed her eyes tighter, letting her fingers trail down his face, the contact too brief to really hurt him. Just tantalizingly long enough to cause a tingle underneath his skin. Her breath was warming against his throat, her nose ghosting softly across his nose, his cheek, his Adam’s apple. Her movements so careful, so gentle, that you’d think he was the fragile one and she the dangerous risk. Without quite willing them to Logan’s hands drifted up her arms, the touch equally light, equally tender. His breath coming in deep and sharp now, his fingers drawing circles on her arms. She shifted again, murmuring something too quick to make out, one knee going on either side of him. Holding him in place, holding him to her. They were glued together practically from hip to chest now, and despite the intervening layers of cloth Logan knew he was going too far with this, knew something was gonna haveta give-

And yet, he couldn’t smell any arousal coming offa her. Her actions, so provocative coming from a grown woman, were entirely innocent. To her, at least.

Aw, Hell.

Logan shifted then, looked at her face for the first time since this had started. Using every sense he possessed to guess why she was acting as she was. Because clearly, she wasn’t trying to seduce him; This wasn’t about sex. It mighta been about the other shit besides sex a man finds with a woman, but it certainly wasn’t about making the bed-springs hum. She seemed to be searching for something, her face curious despite her closed eyes, her touch questioning. All of her attention focussed on him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be happy with her dividing that attention again after this. But aside from that her actions were a mystery to him. As was she. He was tempted to ask her what it was she was looking for, but he didn’t: That would involve talking, breaking this thing between them here, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted the moment that came after This Moment to arrive just yet. In fact, if he were being honest, he knew he didn’t.

She sighed gently then.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Voice breathless. Her hands were now resting on his cheeks, the fingers warm against his mutton-chops. She laid her forehead briefly against his, exhaling, and Logan suddenly realised he’d been holding his breath. “Ah- Ah couldn’t make him quiet on mah own,” she continued, chagrined. “Sorry.”

“Sabretooth?” he guessed. He didn’t wanna say the name, felt like a profanity said in front of her, but he had to. “Was it-”

“Yeah. Ah could see mahself through his eyes when he hurt me. Feel what he wanted t’do t’me-” And she shook her head. For a second it looked like she was gonna cry, the smell of salt tears hanging on the air but then she seemed to pull herself together. “The Wolverine in mah head howled at him ‘til he quit his yellin’,” she murmured instead, smiling though it was strained, going to move away. Logan belatedly realised that he was holding her in place, way tighter than he should have been. Her shoulder-blades felt fragile as porcelain beneath his hands. “You can let me go, Logan,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “Ah ain’t in danger any more, you’ve seen t’that-”

“So that’s why you wanted me to touch you?”

He coulda kicked himself fer saying that.

Fer inviting a conversation that couldn’t end well. Fer practically telling her that he’d had another reason altogether in mind fer her actions. But she just nodded, eyes open and honest. She seemed mercifully unaware that there were many, many other reasons a woman usually wanted to touch him, ranging from teenage kicks to compulsive loneliness, and all the weird-shit happenstance of human existence in between. He hadn’t had anyone simply want him to hold them in all the years he remembered being upon this wretched earth, and in that one way at least, she was his first. He realised he liked that.

A beat.

“Ah needed you inside me,” she murmured then, eyes still widely innocent. No idea how damn seductive what she’d just said was. “He was trying t’take over, him’n Eric-” Her face creased with pain now. “You shut ‘em up, just like you always do.” And then, panicked- “Ah didn’t hurt ya, did Ah?”

She was actually worried about him, after everything she‘d just been through? Suddenly his throat was scratchy. “No, darlin’,” he practically growled. “No, course not.”

“Good.” Her eyes had widened at his words- It was the first time he’d ever called her darlin‘- and for a full second they just stared at one another. Half his brain wanting to touch her again, and the other half screaming at him to let her walk away with her innocence intact. Maybe she saw the conflict in his face because she shifted herself suddenly, moving so that she was perched on the arm of the chair. It was an invitation for him to stand up and he took it. His skin felt cold without her nearness, and Logan let that be his cue to exit. Getting to his feet quickly, awkwardly, and then gesturing for her to take the seat.

“I’ll make sure they keep you some dinner,” he rumbled. Hand dragging through his hair, going to the back of his neck. “I know you always need space after-” And he gestured randomly. Not sure how to mention the mental effects of her mutation without talking about what they’d just done. Marie nodded distractedly, her expression equally awkward. Her gaze fastened on the chair’s footstool as if the fate of the entire universe depended upon her examining its position in the room from every possible angle.

Another beat.

“Sure,” she muttered then, eyes not meeting his. “Ah’d appreciate that. Be down later.” And she slid herself down into the chair, where Logan had previously been sitting. Her face now pensive in the lamplight, as he pulled the door quietly shut. All he could smell from her as he walked away was confusion, worry, maybe even annoyance. The incident had upset her somehow, though he knew better than to push tonight and try to find out why. After all, the last thing either of them needed was to think about touching one another. Little darlin’ had enough problems and worries, without adding him into the mix. Logan nodded firmly to himself, ordering his body to calm down and not remember her melded against him. He’d go out tonight when the kids were asleep and find himself a prospect. A blond, blue-eyed. A looker, with a bit of experience. Someone who knew what touching a man got you into. Someone who wouldn’t ask him to hold her, because- Well, maybe that was just fer him and Marie. Logan nodded to himself, happy with his plan of action and headed for the kitchen. He’d tell the cook about Marie and then head off. Get this outta his system. Because nothing had changed, nothing had happened-

Except that, upstairs in his room, sitting in his chair, Marie had made a realisation.

Her friends were right, he wanted her. And for the first time in the two years she’d known him- It occurred to her that she might want him too. She stared at her bare hands, practically burning where she had touched him. Felt that growling lust-and-trust presence of Logan moving beneath her skin. She’d just wanted his help, just wanted to silence Victor and now- Now she couldn’t un-know that she wanted him. Just like she couldn’t un-know that he wanted her. It was a disaster, or maybe a miracle, she just couldn’t decide which.

“Aw, crap,” Marie muttered into the silence.

The Wolverine in her head just growled.

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

She wasn’t really sure how to take this.

Marie pulled her legs in on herself, tucking her chin on top of them and ordering her body to just calm down a bit. Ignoring the way her skin was tingling, ignoring the way her heart was thudding in her chest. She could hear Logan stomping through the Mansion- He’d backed out of the room so fast she was surprised he hadn’t left vapour trails- And she knew he was heading for the garage. Doubtless intending to drive into town to get wasted and lucky, though not necessarily in that order-

Also doubtless stealing Storm’s bike to do it, which would mean Hell to pay when he got back.

The chair creaked beneath her as she moved then. The scent of leather and cigar smoke filling her nostrils, causing another spasm of warmth to bloom in her belly and tingle up her spine. For as long as they’d been in the Mansion this had been Logan’s place to think, the closest thing he had to a Wolverine-Cave. Whenever he was at home and didn’t want company he came here: The damn thing had brooding marks on it, from where he sat and growled. The first month after Jeannie died he’d practically lived in it, so wracked with rage and guilt that nobody would dare go near him. So filled with hopelessness that the only person he’d talk to was Rogue. And so it had been Marie who sat with him, saying nothing, just listening. Making sure he ate something outside of whiskey and tobacco, ensuring that he slept some and talked some and didn’t hurt himself or anybody else. If you wanted to know how he was in those days, you asked Rogue about it. If you wanted to speak to him for any reason, it had been Rogue who’d given you clearance and watched over him while you did. Storm, Hank, Kurt, everyone had been furious, but she’d been adamant- He needed time to recover. And thanks to her formidable reputation, nobody in the Mansion had dared challenge her on it. The Wolverine had been left in peace and given time to heal, as much as he ever would do.

And Marie had somehow shifted from “possible Lolita,” to “Mamma Bear,” inside the public consciousness of the Mansion. After that summer when he lost Jeannie, she stopped being seen as a possible girlfriend, and started being seen as a possible sister.

Needless to say, she wasn’t happy about that.

Marie twisted herself in the chair then, curling up more soundly inside it. Glaring at the footstool like it could give her answers to what had just happened here, though she knew that it could not. Of course, she’d understood people presuming stuff about them when they first arrived: An older man and a young girl travelling together always raised eyebrows. And the fact that he’d threatened every boy she’d ever gone out with hadn’t exactly put the rumours to rest. Nor had her tendency to glower at his women, until they’d proved their worth to her. But it hadn’t meant anything. Family looked out for one another, and that’s always what she’d told herself they were to each other. She’d even been flattered, kinda, by Jubes’ and Kitty’s earnest assurances that he wanted her, though she’d privately told herself that the idea was ridiculous. Because seriously, what would the Wolverine want with her? She had his memories and she knew the kinda women Logan ran with: She might have had the dexterity to do that stuff with the ping-pong balls, but she’d never have the éclat to pull it off in real life. Despite her best intentions, she was still an innocent abroad, they both knew that. And truth be told, she’d been terrified of the idea of matching up to those women: It had been safer to be Mamma Bear than Lolita, especially considering what she knew about Logan’s track record-

And how much she knew it would hurt to lose him, which was the logical result of taking him into her bed. She understood him well enough not to doubt that.

So they’d ended up here. Her pretending to be his sister and him pretending she’d never be anything else to him. Both of them telling themselves denial was just a river in Egypt-

She tried to pull herself together then.

She was making a mountain out of a molehill, she told herself sternly. This wasn’t going to be a problem, because neither of them would let it be. She was happy being Mamma Bear, if that was what he needed. And just because she hadn’t realised what she was doing to him earlier, it didn’t mean that they had to jump into the sack now. In fact, he would probably never even mention it within her hearing again- It would just be one of those things they never discussed, like the time (post-San Francisco) he picked a fight with an escaped Magneto, and she asked him straight out if his mainly metallic ass was suicidal. Or the time he found her alone in a hotel room with a red-and-black eyed frat boy named Remy whom he’d cheerfully pummelled three shades of shit out of for giving her liquor and then trying to score while she was drunk. This was how they needed to play it: Their friendship was too important to just throw away. But despite herself she felt disappointment wash through her. Not because she didn’t think she’d read his reaction correctly, but because she knew damn well that she had done. Of course he’d brush this under the carpet and never deal with it-

And of course she now realised with dawning dread, she couldn’t do likewise.

Because once you’ve woken up and smelled the sexually repressed, jeans-and-flannel-wearing coffee, it’s damn impossible to go back to sleep.

Her eyes wandered to his bed then, still unmade. Fingers tracing patterns on the leather armrests, picking out the marks his claws had made upon it in the time he’d been here. She really needed to get her mind onto something else. Because with him gone, with her alone in this place that smelled and tasted so much like him- Now things were getting interesting. Colourful. Kinda, sorta bordering on the pornographic. She could feel the ghosts of his hands moving underneath her skin still, making her just aroused enough to render moving undesirable- And just aware enough to recognise that if she stayed here any longer he’d be able to smell where her thoughts were taking her. And that wouldn’t be good. But try as she might she couldn’t bring herself to leave the chair.

Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to make her body let him go.

Instead she found herself twining her arms around the chair, pressing herself down into the leather that smelled so much like him. Gasping, her body warming with the thought of what might have happened. What if he hadn’t pulled away? Her mind whispered. What if he’d pulled her closer, those big, warm hands roaming, fitting her hips to his? She sat on her fingers, trying to force them to behave themselves, but it did her no good. She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, any more than she wanted to control where it went. Would she be wet now, would she be ready for him? She wondered. Would she be making him scream her name? Marie whimpered, wanting just for a second to be Lolita, and not the Mamma Bear she’d grown into in everybody’s eyes. The leather cool against her back as she moved, her shirt riding upwards. The springs creaking quietly, with the rhythm of her movements now.

What if she’d bitten his lip as she tugged his shirt off? Would he have liked that? Would she have? What if she’d kissed, licked, sucked, rocked, fucked him? What if she’d whispered that she wanted him inside her so badly she‘d scream her head off and not give a flying fuck who heard? What would they have done together then? Marie arched her back, her hands moving underneath her clothes now. Panting. Trying and not succeeding to gather her thoughts and calm the Hell down. For a good little Baptist girl, she’d never realised she had such a dirty mind, especially when it came to Logan. But Sweet and Holy Lord above, it seemed she did have-

And now it had been awoken, this completely neglected part of her psyche wanted to come out and play.

The Wolverine inside her head was growling now, encouraging her. Reminding her the way his teeth could nip and bite, but never set her skin off. That his claws, his bearded face, his gloved hands could do things to her she couldn’t even imagine the feel of yet. That’s it, darlin’, that’s it… Move fer me… She heard his voice rumble. You got so many pretty scarves, surely you wouldn’t refuse me one if I wanted to taste you- You want that, don’t you, Marie? She groaned, curling in on herself tighter. Hips rocking. Pulse pounding now. Skin tingling, muscles clenched, back arching. Body teetering on the brink of orgasm and as she whispered his name she got closer still. So good, it felt so good, the thought of him inside her- She was grateful that he wasn’t in the Mansion, because he would have smelled the state she was in now within seconds and Marie couldn’t decide which would be more mortifying: Having him think she was reacting like this to some stranger (in his chair) or realising she was reacting like this because she was thinking of him- And sweet Jesus, what if he saw her like this?-

“Oh God,” her whispered, unable to stop herself, “Oh God, oh God- Logan- Make me come-”

And then there was light.

Well a flicked on light-bulb, to be exact.

“Marie,” his voice sounded from the doorway, “I’m glad you’re still here. I gotta talk to ya-” And he pushed the door open to find her writhing in his chair, hair everywhere. Dishevelled. Aroused. Near naked.

And the remains of his name dying on her lips.

For a second Marie froze, just like a deer caught in the headlights: Even she could smell how turned on she was and she didn’t have his blood-hound’s nose, so the sweet little baby Jesus alone knew what he was thinking. Or what he saw. He looked rooted to the spot, mouth open, hazel eyes staring. Fists at his sides and clenched like he was furious, but his eyes roaming everywhere that was sweaty or naked or both. Marie just stared back, brown eyes wide. Chest heaving. Body still on fire with the desire to have him inside her now-

She said it without even thinking it through, hand held out to him.

“C’mere, sugah-” she growled.

That was all she got out before the door slammed firmly shut.

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

There were times when Logan hated his sense of smell.

Because it had a tendency to bypass everything else in him, including training and self-preservation. Including courtesy and dignity and even common sense. And right now, that’s exactly what it was doing. Making him feel more like an animal than a man. Making his breath catch and his heart pound and his dick twitch in anticipation at a thought which neither of his brains should ever have entertained. And yet he couldn’t help himself. Because seriously, how often in life did a sight as perfect as the one before him meet him? And how often was it likely to meet him again?

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she realised he was there then. Heard the click as the door swung shut. It felt ominous, as if it was sealing his fate somehow-

But he realised he didn’t care.

Marie, his sweet Marie, was writhing in his favourite chair, looking tumble-down gorgeous and completely seductive. Hair tossed about her shoulders. Skin alive and warm and blushingly hot still. Perfuming his room with her unique, sweet-spicy scent and in all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her completely abandoned to anything but sensation and pleasure- He couldn’t take his eyes offa her. Couldn’t even begin to pretend he wasn’t turned on as Hell. His gaze travelled helplessly across her pleasure-flushed body, her breasts, her ass. Coming to rest on her swollen, arousal-bitten lips, and oh sweet Jesus, the sight of that did shit to him nothing else had ever been able to do-

She’d been calling, whispering, growling his name as he walked in here, he realised then. She’d been calling, whispering, growling his name as the thought of him alone made her come.

The beast in Logan growled at that. The man in him did the same.

Her scent was filling his head now, pushing out everything else. The effect of it almost making him feel stoned. Somewhere inside his mind, in that tiny place which held onto sanity, a voice was screaming at him that he’d had a reason for coming back here. That Hank had asked him to go get Marie and test her, considering the new data they’d discovered about Sabre-tooth and the reasons for his attack. But that Jimminy Cricket voice was becoming merely an annoyance. something to be gutted, slashed or otherwise dealt with, but certainly not to be heeded now. Because Marie was here, in his chair. In his sights. And she was holding her hand out to him in invitation.

“C’Mere, sugah,” she growled, staring at him through heavy-lidded lashes. “C’Mere and let me show you just what Ah can do.”

And in that moment, Logan knew he was lost.

He didn’t remember taking her hand. Didn’t remember nodding. All he knew was that she was in the chair one minute and then, then- Then his back slammed hard into the door behind him as Marie’s momentum made him stagger back. One bare hand clawing at his shoulder, the other pulling his hips closer as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Those flushed young breasts burning against him, soft and hot and heavy in his hands as he squeezed them- You like that darlin’?- As she panted something which- Jesus- sounded a Helluva lot like his name. “Logan,” she was whispering, hoarsely, “Oh God, Logan- Please, please-” Her sweet voice hoarse and low-down and a justification fer every type of sinning known to man and angels- One hand sliding up his back to tangle in his hair even as the other went for his belt-buckle, his cock-

Sweet Jesus his Marie was good.

He hissed in pain and pleasure then- His favourite fucking combo- as his dick was freed from his jeans. Those elegant, clever hands closing over him, squeezing him, and just for a second Logan thought he was gonna lose control it felt so fucking good. His hips began to buck in time with hers, both of them trying to find their rhythm. Both of them panting and out of breath now and desperately straining for release. She bit his earlobe hard, twisting it with her teeth and again he hissed in pleasure. “You like that, doncha darlin’?” she murmured devilishly, nails scratching at his fore-arms. “You like it when your sweet little Marie fucks you-”

Her words were the thing that finally pushed him over the edge. Hearing her talk dirty in that perfect Good Girl Southern accent was the last Goddamn straw.

Logan snarled then, switching their positions so that now he was thrusting her back against the door. Taking one wrist in each hand and forcing her arms and legs apart, spread-eagling her against the door while he sucked and bit at her neck. Marie laughed breathlessly, delightedly, begging him to bite harder even as she rode his hips, his knee. His prick. “That’s it, sugah,” she murmured, “You fuck me good and hard.” Logan closed his eyes, breathing in the drenched with sweat-and-sex perfume of her, and then reached for her top. Tearing it offa her. Hands at her jeans, squeezing her ass, and then her legs were bare too. His mouth moved down, nipping and biting at her shoulder, her collar-bone, her breast. Tongue laving the nipple and then sucking it hard through his teeth, his reward a gasp and another raking of her fingers against his forearms. Another round of pleading, her voice hoarse with longing and want. She snaked her bare foot around his hip to rub against his ass, the other hand tangling in his hair to hold his head in place as he sucked her. He slid his fingers inside her, growling approvingly at the silky, honey wetness which greeted him and then began kissing his way upwards, already anticipating what it would feel like to be inside her. To fuck her long and deep. She was whimpering now, his tongue aching to slide into her mouth. His fingers still riding her hard and fast even as she called out for him, brown eyes imploring as he moved in to finally kiss that siren mouth-

And then suddenly he froze. They froze. Soon as their eyes locked on one another Logan stopped moving. Because suddenly his brain registered just who was in his arms.

Fuck.

He let his grip on her loosen then, pulling slightly away from her. Ignoring his cock which was screaming protest and trying to calm himself before he did something even dumber’n that. She tried to pull him closer again but he stilled her. Giving inta temptation and briefly laying his forehead against hers, but then pulling away. Because he remembered who he was. Who she was. What they were doing together and what she meant to him outside this moment and this room. Those chocolate brown eyes belonged to his best friend, not some random, sexually adventurous stranger who happened to look a bit like her. And he was fucking her against a door, fer Chrissakes. He was snarling and growling and not even kissing her, and she was his Marie. He’d gut someone else fer doing this to her-

“Logan?” she murmured then, her voice suddenly tiny and not at all hoarse from longing and want. “Logan, what is it? Did Ah..?” And she let the sentence trail off, biting her lip. Brown eyes suddenly bright with something he suspected might turn inta tears. “Did Ah do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t, darlin’” he growled, breathless. Hands clenched with the effort of not touching her. “I did.”

“But Ah wanted to,” She frowned. “And Ah thought you did. Ah mean, the way ya reacted earlier…” She shook her head, face confused and embarrassed. Bewildered. “Isn’t that why you came back to the room, shuggs?”

And she looked away from him, trying to hide those tell-tale tears.

If possible Logan felt like an even worse bastard than he had before. “No,” he said quietly. “No, Hank asked me t’get ya. Something about Sabre-tooth’s mental state when you fought him.” He’d come to take her to Sickbay, to check on her, and instead he’d tried ripping her clothes off and screwing her without a second thought. He knew he wasn’t the most chivalrous of men, but that was low, even by his standards. And now he’d made his Marie cry, which was the one thing he never, ever wanted to do. Something other people had been known to lose a limb fer attempting-

Jesus, this was a mess.

“Ah should go see Beast then,” she muttered dully. Eyes flat. For the moment she was in shock, though Logan knew it wouldn’t last. She‘d be throwing things by morning. “Can ya put me down?” she muttered, and he deposited her awkwardly back on the floor, looking away as she tried to smooth her hair down. Find her clothes. If he touched her he didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself again. “Ah’ll just head to Sickbay, see what Hank wants,” she muttered, pulling on her blouse and jeans. It was so awkward. “And Ah’ll see ya tomorrow. Night.”

She didn’t look back as she left.

But given the circumstances he didn’t really expect her too.

Logan dragged a hand through his hair then, trying to ignore the scent of her permeating everything. Trying also to ignore the realisation of just how royally he’d fucked up. She’d probably never speak to him again. The chair creaked with his weight as he sat down in it, nearly drowning in the smell of her, the memory of it. Ordering his mind not to conjure the image of her writhing there, his name on her lips like a prayer. He sat there, hands clenched, claws ready to rip at something- And waited. Didn’t move. Sat still. Night fell and with it came a peaceful darkness, but the recollections still didn‘t leave him. Sleep came about four hours after she’d left him-

And when it did, he dreamt of his Marie.

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Logan was long gone by the time she got out of Sickbay.

Wasn’t his fault; Storm had gotten a late night phone-call and woken him at the crack of dawn to go looking for some new mutant. Something to do with a kid in Afghanistan, picked up by the forces on the ground there and perhaps in danger from a mob. He’d taken the jet, him and Bobby, headed out in the wee small hours long before she awoke from her troubled sleep. Long before they’d had the opportunity to not talk about what they’d done. Marie thought he might have come by her room, she could have sworn she heard his footsteps pacing outside her door for a while- But he hadn’t opened the door or said nothing. Just worried the floor for a little while and then bailed. Probably unable to find the words to speak to her-

Because considering what had happened, she surely didn’t know where to begin.

She sighed then, curling her feet beneath her and sinking back further into Logan’s chair. Breathing in the scent of him that still hung about it, no matter how long he’d been gone. It made her feel a little hollow inside, to wonder whether she’d ever be welcome to sit in it again- But she pushed the thought away. If she was gonna have her heart broken, it was gonna have to wait.

Instead she turned her mind back to the problem at hand.

Because Hank had been right to come get her. Turned out that like any other feline Creed went into heat, not as regularly as a cat apparently but just often enough to make “time of the month,” a worrying factor in his mental health. And a worrying bit of information for the poor bastard guarding his cell. When he’d attacked Marie he’d been slap-bang in the middle of his mating cycle, hormones going every which way and the will to mate driving every other thought out of that psychotic, pea-sized skull o’ his. Which was probably why he’d been so damn easy to track. When Beast checked his readings he’d discovered a testosterone and serotonin surge that would’ve put Viagra to shame: It was a wonder he’d been able to walk, let alone carry Marie off when he kidnapped her. But that hadn’t been the most worrying element.

The most worrying element had been Marie herself.

Because when Hank had checked her hormone levels, the readings were off the scale. Enormous. Marie had been more tanked up on testosterone than a human body should have been able to take from her skin-on-skin contact with the monster. And just to make it even more mortifying, Beast had been able to smell the pheromones coming offa her soon as she walked through the door. Just like he’d picked up the distinctive scent of Wolverine. Which had been pretty damn awkward, to say the least. He’d explained her prognosis hesitantly, awkwardly: Apparently she was at that moment in time at least the single horniest, most irresistible woman on the planet. There were rabbits who weren’t as sexually dynamic as she was. Or as ready to go. Marie had listened to his explanation with a mixture of dread, embarrassment, and (she told herself) relief. It had sure explained a lot, like the fact that she’d turned into a sex-mad dominatrix in the space of time it took to sit in a chair. Like the fact that Logan had tried to fuck her against a wall without a thought of the consequences, when most of the time he barely noticed she was female, let alone fully grown. Soon as Hank said the word pheromones she’d understood what had happened: Logan simply hadn’t stood a chance against her- It had been chemistry at its most basic and simple, nothing to do with attraction at all-

Is that so, little darlin’? her inner Wolverine growled dangerously then. Is that what you’re trying t’tell yerself?

Instantly Marie stilled, wondering where this was going. Her inner Wolverine rarely spoke to her except in the heat of battle, and when he did he never sounded as smug as right now.

Of course, that was because he was usually busy explaining how to beat the shit out of her opponent.

What did ya say t’me? She muttered defensively then.

Oh I think ya heard me fine, darlin’. Not wanting to listen ain’t the same as being deaf. And his smile grew wider, turning feral. Marie swore she could feel the ghost of his hands moving underneath her skin, fingers trailing across her lips. Between her thighs. She tried unsuccessfully to calm herself.

Because now that he’d started talking to her he didn’t seem inclined to stop.

You honestly trying t’tell me you need a shot o’ Victor t’make you wanna fuck me? the Wolverine continued, so close he mighta been standing at her elbow. You honestly saying you never thought about it before now? She tried not to notice what his voice was doing to her insides. Also cursed her body for responding to even the memory of his presence in this chair. She heard him chuckle- Oh, clearly darlin’ I don’t turn ya on none- And she squeezed her eyes shut. Tried to make him quiet. Because she had an out now, when it came to explaining things. She didn’t have to admit she wanted him, she could walk away scot-free-

And do what? the Wolverine scoffed. Go back t’pretending? Go back t’making out ya got ice-water in yer veins Marie, and no fire in yer belly neither? That’s who ya wanna be?

But that’s who Ah have t’be! She retorted. That’s all he needs from me-

And what ‘bout what you need from him? The Wolverine was growling now, showing his teeth to her. Ya honestly think I wanna woman who don’t have a spinal column, don’t have needs of her own? He rumbled in her head, beneath her skin. Getting ornery. Marie tried to push him away but she couldn’t. He just wouldn’t shut up. Why ya think I never wanted Jeannie, Marie? he demanded. Why ya think the Wolverine always chased after you, no matter what Logan said? Because you’re flesh and blood and balls, woman. Not some perfect image he’ll never sully with actual affection-

Then why did he stop things? She mentally snapped. Crossing her arms in irritation. If he’s so interested why’d he push me away?

Because, sweetheart, he’s a moron. Marie gave a ghost of a smile despite herself. And even worse’n that, he don’t know what he wants. Tells himself he gotta have nothing and leaves your sweet self alone and cold in bed at night when you’d both be happier fuckin’ like tomorrow will never come. The Wolverine sighed like a martyr and Rogue fought the urge to giggle. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she wondered how much of this might be a part of Logan and how much of this was her own desires speaking through his voice. You don’t know how many times he’s told himself not to look at you, darlin’, the Wolverine continued. You don’t know how many times you nearly got to road-test your mutation control once you turned eighteen. Shit Marie, even you notice it. Wouldn’ta put so much effort inta pretending if there wasn’t something there you weren’t willing t’face-

So you’re saying this is mah fault? She demanded.

Don’t pull that crap with me, woman, the Wolverine growled. Just cos I said something you don’t wanna deal with, don’t shift this around so it becomes about me. You’re not worried about guilt, you’re worried about fear. You’re worried that you’ll never match up to whatever idea you have about the competition in your head. And that’s your bullshit Marie, not mine.

She rolled her eyes then. He really didn’t get it, if he could say that to her. Well, have you seen mah competition, sugah? She retorted, arms crossed more tightly now. Either they’re dead and flawless like Jeannie or they’re horny and crazy like every other woman he jumps inta bed with. Where exactly do Ah fit inta that?

His smile was smugly serene. Same place ya always have darlin’. Right inside his heart. Marie opened her mouth to answer him and closed it with an audible snap. She couldn’t really say anything to that. We’re both nuts about ya, Marie, the Wolverine continued more softly at her silence, I’ve just got the balls t’admit it. Happen t’be prettier’n him too, but that’s neither here nor there. She shook her head, not really willing to believe him. And not really wanting to disbelieve him neither, if she were being honest with herself.

She couldn’t have admitted that before now, she realised with a start.

But say Ah even wanted to, she began cautiously, He can’t- Ah mean, we don’t- She threw her hands up in the air. Why couldn’t she bring herself to say it? What if you’re wrong about this? She demanded eventually. What if you’re seeing something that just ain’t there?

Now the Wolverine rolled his eyes. Look, sweetheart, just ask him. Straight out. No ceremony. You know us better’n anyone: If he’s lying you’re the one’ll be able to tell it. And you’re the one’ll benefit when he grows a pair and admits how he feels. Ask him what happened and watch him.

You make it sound so easy, she thought gloomily.

That’s because it was easy, before you thought too much about it. It was easy before he went and cocked it up. She felt his hands sliding underneath her clothes now, kneading at her breasts, her ass. It felt- It felt really fucking good if she were being honest with herself. That’s because I’m the best o’ the best at what I do darlin’, he growled smugly. And it ain’t like this chair won’t see worse by the time you an’ him are through with it… So why doncha give me some time t’play..?

Marie tried to concentrate but he was making it So Difficult. Maybe if she lay back and relaxed a little she might have more luck…

The Wolverine laughed again. That’s it darlin’, you get comfortable… Pull that little shirt off and show me those pretty titties again… Without thinking twice she yanked the shirt off, shivering as the cold air hit her flesh and he growled appreciatively. He might not have been the real thing-Hey, now that was uncalled fer- But what he was doing to her sure as Hell felt real. His hands were everywhere underneath her skin, teeth nipping, lips sucking- Marie tried to remind herself that to be caught jerking off in a man’s favourite chair once might be considered unfortunate, but to be caught twice was downright negligence- But the Wolverine didn’t listen none. Just squeezed her, licked her, rocked her. So she didn’t press the point. If she was right and Logan did want her, the scent would drive him crazy. And if she was wrong and he didn’t, if it all went horribly, horribly pear-shaped, well then she’d just tell him Sabre-tooth made her do it and never look him in the eye again. It was a win-win situation- Oh Jesus, sugah, right there, Ah’m going straight t’Hell for this, anyway- And she would just be better off accepting it.

Especially if she was gonna try seducing his flesh and blood counterpart just as soon as he got back home. She could think of this as a trial run-.

That’s my girl, The Wolverine growled. Gotta love that can do attitude.

Marie didn’t think she could get so hoarse from screaming “Yes!”

But three hours later she was forced to admit that she could.

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Whatever she’d gotten up to in here, Logan mused, she’d enjoyed herself.

And judging by the way her scent had permeated the room, she’d enjoyed herself in his damn chair as well. Which was pretty fucking hot, whichever way you looked at it.

And pretty fucking annoying, since he was trying so hard not to screw her senseless now he was home.

Logan shifted uncomfortably then, padding quietly into the room and trying not to wake her. Also trying not to conjure a mental image of Marie’s probable activities while he’d been away. Wasn’t hard to guess what she’d been doing: The scent of arousal was so strong he coulda followed it from the garage, let alone the front of the house. It clung to the drapes, the sheets, his clothes, everything. Filling his head like the sweetest perfume and trickling against his tongue like honey in July. She was lying lengthways in the chair, sated and asleep. Looking innocent. Both legs sliding over one of the armrests, arms hanging akimbo and loose. Not wearing a shirt or bra or- by the look of things- any panties-

Logan sighed then, thinking not for the first time that Marie would be the death of him. Because there should be laws about looking that Goddamn gorgeous around a man, especially if he was trying to be noble and self-sacrificing and salvage his friendship with you. She was Marie, fer Chrissakes, he reminded himself sternly. His girl. His best friend. And all it had taken fer him to fuck things up was three seconds around her when she was out of her mind on someone else’s hormones. He wondered whether ‘Ro would object to him going another coupla rounds with Sabre-tooth, since Creed had caused this damn mess in the first place. And since beating the shit out of him fer it would do wonders fer his sense of Zen…

Marie stirred in her sleep then.

Mumbled something that almost sounded like his name thought Logan couldn’t be sure. Smiled lazily, her back arching and once again Logan was forced to remind himself just who he was looking at and why. Because the sight o’ her was still calling his blood up. Even as she stretched like a cat, yawning, her bare legs flipping so that she could turn herself around in the chair as she woke. Alls she was wearing was her black skirt and gloves and for a moment he considered clearing his throat. Making sure she knew he was there. But just as he went to do it she stood up and turned towards him. Chest bare, hair everywhere. Beautiful.

And also damn near nude.

Well, ain’t that just peachy? he inwardly growled.

“Hey Logan,” she grinned then, like her standing in front of him half naked was a normal thing. Stretched her arms above her head, making her tits- Jesus, he didn’t wanna think about those- rise and jiggle. The rosy prink nipples perking up like they’d seen him and felt they just had to say hi. “Ah was wondering when you’d get home,” she continued, bright-eyed. “How’d the mission go?”

“Fine.” He hadn’t meant to growl it, but he couldn’t stop himself. The sight of her was straining his last nerve. Logan sniffed, wondering whether Creed’s hormones were still in her system, since that was the only reason he could conjure fer her chipper- and distinctly not-throwing-things mood. Not to mention how turned on she smelt. But there wasn’t a trace o’ Sabretooth left in her, which left him feeling wrong-footed. And besides, where were the tears and the accusations about what a bastard he was? Where was the girl who never even flashed him her ankles, let alone her tits?

And why was she walking towards him like a cat intent on making an unlucky canary’s acquaintance?

Because Jesus, he’d never realised how predatory she could look before now. “Aintcha gonna answer mah question, Logan?” she inquired innocently then. Curling one platinum strand around her finger. “Or are ya just thinking about it really, really hard?” And she slowly, torturously, bit her lip, eyes smouldering.

Aw, he thought, now that shit just ain’t fair.

Logan growled then, taking a step away from her. Hands held in front of him, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. Wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings, he just knew he had to keep her outta his personal space. Well, one of his brains did, at least. He tried to step by her and if possible, her smile got wider, growing to Cheshire-cat like proportions. Her hips swaying now, her gait sauntering. And no sign of her putting clothes on anywhere on the horizon. Logan didn’t often think it, but falling back suddenly seemed like a real good idea-

Or as a non-military man mighta put it, running away.

He made a break fer the exit then but she stood in front of him. “You see something ya like, sugah?” she asked sweetly, hands clasped together behind her back. The motion enough to make her breasts stand out even more. Yup, those nipples were definitely saying hello t’him…

“No- I mean-” Fuck. He shook his head. She was too close. “I mean, of course I see someone I like Marie- It’s you, after all…”

“And you like all o’ me, do ya Logan?” Her little hands were hovering near him now, her body heat reaching out to his. She smiled devilishly, tugging lightly at one glove then the other- “You sure you wanna take off more clothes, darlin’?” he muttered- and dropping them to the floor in front of him. The action half challenge and half invitation. Then slowly moved her hands behind her back and pulled the skirt off too.

He realised then that she definitely wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Ah know ya think ya gotta pretend Ah’m your sister, Logan,” she said softly then. He tried desperately to focus on her face but it had way too much naked competition. So he concentrated on her voice instead. “Ah know you don’t wanna hurt me, and Ah know you think getting involved will be a mess.” He nodded unconsciously, hands clenched with the effort of not touching her- She was so fucking lovely, his Marie- “But you oughta remember that it’s not only you has a say in this.” Voice wavering like she was losing some of her confidence, and despite himself Logan reached out fer her, one hand straying to her face to tuck one of her stripes behind her ear. The other- God help him- brushing against her lower lip. She leaned her cheek against his hand as he did it and a spark of warmth shot along his arm, lust and trust mingling together. Something in him twisting at the thought. “Ah want you,” she whispered, brown eyes serious and soft. “Ah’ve- Ah’ve wanted you for a long time, sugah. And Ah think- Ah think that you want me too-

“Don’t you?”

And that said, she leaned up and kissed him.

Once, very softly on the mouth.

In that second Logan was lost. If she’d tried to grab his prick or force him back to the bed it wouldn’t have worked none, but she’d chosen the one thing that would get underneath his defences- The one thing he knew he wouldn’t pull away from at any cost. Because her lips were warm and soft, moving gently against his, and for the first time since any of this started she felt like the Marie he knew now. The Marie he loved. Truth be told this was what he’d wanted to do to her for so long as he could remember. Not fuck her against a door or make her holler his name out like a wild woman. Just kiss him like she was doing now, all soft and sweet and gentle. All warm and completely Marie. He’d wanted to be the man she kissed like this, not the man who scratched an itch someone else had tagged her with-

He was that to enough women already, he wouldn’t be that to her.

Her little arms curled up and around his neck then, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. Sighing contentedly against him, her breath filling his mouth, her scent in his nose. She sighed his name again, fingers scratching across his shoulders and he pulled her backwards. Both of them tumbling into his chair. Velvety tongue sliding over hers, just like he’d always wanted to do. Her knees going on either side of him, the heat of her pooling in his lap. She laughed breathlessly- “Can Ah take that as a yes?” and a snarl rumbled through his chest- “Take it as a Hell yes, darlin…”

And then her little hands were everywhere, pulling at his t-shirt, fingers ghosting over his skin. Scratching along his mutton-chops, her nose buried in his neck and his in her hair. She stopped for a moment, her pupils dilating as she stared down at him. Shirt off and growling for her there in the evening light. He ran his hands across her cheekbones, cupping her face with one hand as he brought the other to rest against his chest and she smiled at him. But the smile didn’t touch her eyes, he could tell she was nervous about something-

“What is it, darlin’?” Was she having second thoughts already?

“Ah’m-” She bit her lip and this time it wasn’t about seduction, the brown eyes held genuine worry. “Ah can see ya want it t’be all soft and romantic and all, and Ah love that, Ah really do, but-” she stuttered.

“Spit it out already, Marie.”

She giggled, and despite himself he laughed too. “Well, it’s just that Ah…Ah…” Suddenly she grabbed his face in her hands, nails digging against the mutton-chops. Thighs tightening on his, heart pounding in her chest. “Ah wanna give ya the fuck o’f your life, Logan,” she growled, “And Ah don’t know how t’do that if we keep going so doggone slow!”

He couldn’t help it: he gave another puff of laughter. And then dragged her lips down to meet hers before she could protest. Because how could he resist that? All this time, he’d been worried about whether he’d hurt his innocent little Marie, and she was more like him than he’d ever thought possible. More like him than anyone would have guessed. And if that was what she wanted… She was growling against his mouth, protesting against the laughter as he forced her lips open more roughly. Wrapping both arms crushingly around her, her breath coming in panting gasps from the tightness of his embrace. She came up for air and he grinned devilishly, biting at her lip, tugging at it even as her hand went to his belt buckle and she heaved off his jeans, her nails scraping against his ass. He kicked his way out of them, letting her force his head back even as she bit his neck hard. “Jesus,” he gasped-

“No, Marie, shuggs,” she laughed.

And then she was taking his hand, guiding it down between her thighs. Already rocking her hips against his fingers, as he pumped them slowly in and out of her. Keeping the pace infuriatingly steady and slow. Thumb circling her clit and she hollered- “Oh Jesus-”

“No, Logan,” he retorted-

She growled then, taking his cock in her hand. Rolling her fingers up and down its heavy length, one hand tugging at his balls- He hissed at the pleasure of it- while the other squeezed the velvety head. Her teeth scraping along his neck as she fucked him hard with her hand, her own hips moving to the rhythm he set now. He was so hard it was almost painful but she just kept teasing him, squeezing him. Riding that prick. Whispering what she wanted him to do to her in that smoky, low-down voice she only used on him. Grinding against his hand now, half threatening and half pleading with him to finish her, but he just grinned wolfishly. Edging forwards on the seat now and grabbing that pretty bare ass in his hands. For a second she didn’t know what he was doing, but he yanked her legs higher against his hips and her eyes widened with understanding. Whimpering, she shifted, preparing to take him inside her. Biting her lip as he eased forward and then with another growl suddenly moving upright, lowering herself onto his cock in one swift, wet movement. Fitting them both tightly together, like it‘d been a sin they‘d ever been apart. For a beat both were still, just savouring the sensation. The slick, wet joy of it. Their eyes locking- He needed to look at her right now- and then a look of fierce pleasure falling over her face. Over his. Logan let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, his last worry about hurting her finally fading and then they were fucking. So close, so Goddamn close. Her bucking against him, murmuring his name even as that tight, wet honeyed pussy took him, all of him. Clenched and arched and made him feel whole. She gasped, head thrown back, her mouth making an O of pleasure as her orgasm hit and he pulled her tighter to him. Chest and chest, forehead to forehead. Not an inch of daylight between them now. She was ragged, desperate, calling for him even as he kept pushing into her. Even as her arms and legs clenched him tighter, wanting him, needing him. Keeping him close and making him hers. Hers. He came and it was hot and wet and right and fucking glorious-

And then he snarled, spending himself within her.

His beautiful, lovely Marie.

They were quiet fer a while then. Him still inside her, her head resting on his shoulder and her fingers sliding gently between his knuckles. Occasionally dropping tiny kisses there, where the claws came out. She smelt content and sated, no more worry or anxiety. The scent of the pair of them mixing together, the perfume of it calming as Hell. Logan traced patterns on her back with his hands, growling softly against her with pleasure. Humming as he kissed her, smiling as she giggled when the vibration of it travelled through her lips, her tongue. They spent the night in that chair, rocking and fucking and loving together until the sun came up. And when sunlight slipped gently into the room, they left the chair and finally tumbled inta bed. Satisfied but not spent.

Her eyes were half asleep when she said it. “Think Ah might love ya, sugah.”

She was curled in against him, more trusting than anyone had ever been. Hand on his belly, the other at his chest. It felt so peaceful.

“Good,” he muttered tightly, “Wouldn’t wanna be alone in this.”

She smiled into his chest. “So can we do this again tomorrow?” she asked innocently. Eyes bright and devilish.

“We can do this every day, that’s what ya want, darlin’.”

The grin grew wider. “Ah was hoping you’d say that. But shuggs?” She was scratching along his arms, his chest now. Preparing to go for round two. Those pretty little nipples popping up to say hey. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

“Ah think ya might need another chair,” she said with mock gravitas.

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to head back over there and check, won’t we?”

Turned out, that chair was way tougher than it looked. Just like him and his Marie.

But that’s a story for another day.