Part 24- ‘This Ain’t A Love Scene…’
She wrapped her legs close to the purring chassis of the machine; its vibrations sent shivers through her spine, the roar of its engines sounding over the beating of the thumping over her heart, and the cool night breeze passing through her hair sent her body humming in all directions.
The heat from the bike was nothing compared to the fire that coursing right through her, an intense burning that started form the back of her throat, a fiery path cutting through her chest and stomach, coming to a singular pointed blaze through her loins, pooling between her legs.
It was the adrenaline, the ecstasy and energy after a fight that had her closing her eyes and leaning back on the bike, mouth open in pleasure, arms spread wide at her side as the heavy ccs of the bike pushed through midnight traffic.
Every colour, every light, every street sign blistered with an amazing burst of colour pricking the retina’s of her eyes, meshing together, alive and throbbing with every singular movement of her head or a toss of her hair.
She was on a trip of epic proportions, the ‘E’ she had taken, the drinks and the adrenaline from the fight had her senses pulsating in overdrive. And she loved every minute of it, leaning back on the bike almost flat out, she laughed, a clear, happy sound that rippled through the air.
Marie was in overload, her body, her nerves, down to the blood in her veins screaming at a hundred miles an hour, and she wanted, needed, ached to share this with somebody. No question about it, the intensity of it all had her horny as hell.
She purred in contentment as she shuffled closer to Logan, he was leaning forward, pushing the bikes torque for all it was worth, eyes narrowed against the wind that blistered through his hair, grizzled cheeks battered as he gritted his teeth.
It was the same for him; it was the same every time, after each and every fight, the adrenaline that came was like a drug. He could smell her, fuck even over the fumes of gas piling up from the bike, he could smell her. The musky scent, heavy with desire, laced with thrill, spicy and intoxicating, he could smell her need, the ache that burned through ever inch of her.
And he could feel her, the way she pressed up against him, the throbbing vibrations of her body, beating to a rhythm of its own, faster, louder, more intense even than the energy of the engine of the bike.
He could feel her hands spread across the muscles of his back, raking over the heavy denim of his jacket, until she slipped her hands underneath the material, under his shirt and onto the taut flesh of his back.
Her fingernails raked across his backbone, every square inch of skin responding to her touch, goose bumps prickling up and down his as she moved her arms around his waist, her hands resting against his stomach.
She pressed flush against him, her heels wrapping around his ankles, her breasts pushed up against his back, the fire that burned her passing effortlessly, seamlessly through their clothes, flowing from her and through him.
Intoxicating, heady scents of her, her touch, the gentle warm whisper of her breath passing over his neck, causing every hair to stand on end, he growled as she blew gentle kisses along the nape of his neck. Her hands working lower, teasingly tugging at the belt of his buckle, passing over the front of his jeans and the very obvious strain in his pants and coming to rest on his aching crotch.
His body was in overload, from his skin reacting to the slightest of her touches, from the blood pounding deafeningly loud in his ears, down to the very end of his nerves that were on fire. He leaned back further into her hands, into her arms, his head swimming from her touch, from her caress, the warmth and very essence of her.
It was a drug and he couldn’t get enough, he wanted, needed, had to taste, to feel, to take in every part of her. ‘Marie…’ he whispered. He could feel her nod approvingly, her breath coming in quick short gasps as she raked her fingernails down the inside of his thighs and back up again. She gave his crotch a tight squeeze, pleased when he responded by thrusting his hips into her hand.
The wheels of the bike threatened to veer across the road, tyres burning furiously on the wet tarmac as Logan fought to get the machine under control again, shaking his head sharply, and cursing under his breath as he did so.
But she only laughed louder, and pressed up against him once more, when she began to grind her hips up against his back, and took to nibbling against his ear, Logan took the next exit off the busy road and pulled over at the nearest sign of a motel.
No point in getting them both killed now, he reasoned, as he paid for a room in cash and they made their way down to the cheap room, Marie following a few paces behind, neither of them saying a word.
They stepped into the room and Logan reached for the light switch, she was stood in the centre of the room at the foot of the bed. The nasty gash on her lip from where she had been punched was visible even under the light from outside on the boardwalk.
‘Leave the light…’ she spoke softly but clearly and Logan stared at her. The luminous brown in her eyes was shining with an intensity he hadn’t seen in the longest while. Her brown hair had fallen about her face, the white streaks falling messily; she met and held his gaze through the bangs of her hair.
In the intensity of those few moments he could have sworn they’d stepped back in time, back to when she was Marie, when she was both Marie and Rogue, the passion that burned behind those eyes, which shone with wounded pride when it seemed at last she’d accepted her fate and learned to live with the duality of her nature.
Eyes that had burned with intensity every time she forgot herself, and grown in confidence, adapting to that x-men uniform like a second skin, he’d remembered that look, and for those moments it seemed to bring her back to him. Back to that girl he’d remembered, laughing, shining eyes that betrayed a hundred different emotions, hope and laughter, grief and sadness and the ache for a release.
Chocolate brown eyes that he’d never seen shine brighter than when they’d promised her a cure. Marie, the same girl, whose light he had slowly seen fade, until that god awful mistake he’d made almost five months ago when he’d pushed her away. Marie, she was here now, in this room, the Marie that he’d tried to deny he’d been in love with for so long. That girl, it had to be her…it just had to be.
As long as he denied everything that had happened for the past few days, as long as he pushed that to the back of his mind, as long as he pretended, he could live with it. He could fool himself into thinking, she hadn’t pulled a gun on him, she hadn’t been ready to blow that soldier’s head off, and she hadn’t …she hadn’t killed.
Logan closed his eyes and when he opened them again she was stood right before him, looking up at him, with an intensity, with those brown eyes he remembered from so long ago, remembered the girl from so long ago, Marie…my Marie.
But still he hesitated; she reached up and pressing one warm hand around the back of his neck, pulled him in for a fierce kiss. He could sense her body pressed up against his, the heat that flooded out of her, and the blood that trickled from the cut on her lip.
She pushed him back against the door, her hand wandering up into his hair, tugging fiercely at the locks, her other hand reaching for and pushing his jacket off his shoulders. He growled, a low rumbling in his chest that shook the both of them with its intensity, the animalistic urges in his nature, urging to press further, to probe with his tongue that gash across her lips, prodding the bloodied flesh, revelling in the slow sharp wince of pain that came from her as he sucked at the wound, drinking in the very essence of her, the sharp coppery, sweet tang of her blood, satiating his thirst and satisfying the Wolverine until the animal inside screamed for more.
Her hand curled up on his chest, her sharp fingernails digging into the bare flesh, cutting him open and healing over again. She arched her neck, pressing her lips further against his welcoming mouth, his teeth coated with her blood; she broke away from his grasp, before peeling away the shirt that she wore.
He ran his tongue against his teeth, still tasting her, and tore at the buttons of his shirt leaving the material to fall at the door. She walked backwards and he followed her further into the room, he stepped forwards quickly, sweeping an arm about her waist he hauled her upwards until she was held over his midsection.
He held her there awhile, kissing the top of her breasts over her bra, licking at the material, flicking his tongue over her nipples, soaking the black bra through. She stared at him through the bangs of her hair, pressing her forehead against his; she cupped his face with her hands, running her palms over the stubble of his cheeks.
Logan turned quickly, his knees hitting the end of the bed, he pushed her down onto the bed, lowering himself on top of her, he stared at her intently before he kissed her again. She closed her eyes tight, as his hands roamed over her skin, down her front cupping one breast gently before moving slowly over her stomach, down her thighs and to the hem of her skirt.
He pushed the material upwards, his fingers probing, seeking the very core of her; she jutted upwards, her whole body arching into his fingers as he ran his hand over the front of her panties. He pushed her back down, steadying her with a hand placed firmly around her thigh, she groaned and wriggled uncomfortably.
Reaching behind her reluctantly, she fished out the handgun from behind her back and stretching her arm out across the bed dropped the Magnum to the floor. He stared at her, her mouth twisted into a knowing smile and her eyes, her eyes shut tight.
He gritted his teeth, look at me dammit Marie, look at me…let me know, I haven’t got this wrong, how could I? Is it you, it has to be, in my arms, responding to my fingers, the heat, the energy pounding through your veins, the scent that hits me like a sledgehammer, pure desire and longing, it’s you…it has to be you…
Logan reached up, her eyes were screwed tight even as she reached for his belt and the zipper on his jeans, but he shook his head and stilled her hands, pinning her arms down, he reached up and took hold of her face firmly in one hand. With harsh force he gripped his fingers digging into the softness of her cheeks, bruising her flesh.
‘Look at me Marie…for fuck’s sake open your eyes…’ She hesitated before her eyes snapped open, staring at him through hooded lids, eyes that shone with frightening intensity, more than the girl he had used to know, something, else, someone else, not just her, a thousand others.
And all at once he could see it, in his mind’s eye, Marie lying to him, using him. Marie wielding that gun, Marie savagely kicking a soldier, Marie rigging up sort of bomb…the smell of charred skin as he had watched the bodies land at his feet, still smouldering, carnage and cindered flesh, and it was her, she pulled the trigger, Marie…killer.
But she didn’t understand and reaching for him still he pinned her back down, pushing her head back down into the mattress, ‘Fuck…!’ He swore loudly, pulling away from her. But she smiled wickedly, ‘Ah thought that was the general idea…’ her voice husky and low made him turn on her.
‘You lied to me…’ he whispered, his hurt gaze meeting her cold one as he stood up, leaving her to prop herself up on her elbows. He stared at her, and he could see she knew exactly what he was talking about.
That conversation in the car, when Marie had fought to push them back, when they’d both fought to bring her back, hold on…hold on to what you are.
‘You told me they were gone…you told me she was gone, you lied to me…’ Logan passed a tired hand through his hair. She swung her legs over the end of the bed, first picking up the gun, tucking it into her skirt, and then pulling on her shirt.
‘What makes ya think ah lied…’ her voice with its tell-tale teasing set him further on the edge.
He hurried up to her, pushing her back against the wall, his hand around her throat he spat down at her, ‘How ‘bout the fact that you’re runnin’ around like GI fuckin’ Jane…’
She scowled, her mouth twisted into a bitter smile, as she pushed him back.
‘Fuck ya Logan…what makes ya think this has anythin’ to do with them…’ she challenged him.
‘Marie…’ his voice boomed, ‘you killed two men tonight…that couldn’t have been you, whatever else the fuck has happened these past months, you…you’re not a killer, a bitch yeah …a cold hearted bitch sometimes, but you’re not a killer, or at least you weren’t.’
She chuckled low, ‘Yeah…? And how the fuck would ya know, things change, ah grew up, ya have no idea what’s goin on with me, ya never bothered before, so what’s it matter to ya now?’
‘You’re not a killer Marie…’ he repeated, his voice fading with every word, unable even to convince him self anymore.
‘Ya mean ah’m not you…?’ Her words cut through and he looked up at her quickly, his eyes menacing, his gaze feral, she was right of course, he was a killer, always had been.
His knuckles flexed, ‘Jus’ give me a straight answer Marie…, they’re not gone are they, she’s still up there isn’t she?’ He choked on the words; the answer he knew was coming would tear him apart.
She didn’t speak for the longest while, leaning back against the door she smiled quietly, shuffling her feet staring at the floor through the bangs of her hair. ‘No…they’re not gone. But ya know what, it don’t matter anymore, ah’m done fightin’ them, they saved ma life more than once, tellin’ them to piss off now would jus’ seem bloody ungrateful don’t ya think…?’
She laughed at her own attempt at humour. He shook his head at her, ‘how long?’
‘Ya mean how long since they’ve been back…?’ she asked him, her hand hovering behind her back, still shuffling her feet, looking like the little school girl caught in a lie. If only it was that simple. ‘Sugah…they never really left…’
He sat down heavily on the bed, it had been a lie, damned fucked up sort of lie, all of it, down to the moments in this room when he thought he had her in his arms, it meant nothing, he had meant nothing, as far as she was concerned he could have been just another john, another mark for her to work over, because it was not her, not Marie, not the girl he remembered, not the one he ached over.
She sighed quietly, a soft whisper that carried over the quiet air, ‘It ain’t too bad, not this time, ah’m in control, ah control them not the other way round…’
He didn’t give her a chance to finish before he pounced angrily, ‘If you really believe that…’ he stood in front of her glaring tapping the side of his head, ‘then you’re even further gone than I thought!’
Marie was defiant, ‘But ya know what, ya know the best thing ‘bout having ‘em up there?’ She paused, making sure her next words would sink in, ‘They pushed ya out Logan, all those years of carrying ya up here,’ she pressed her fingers to the side of her head, ‘and they finally pushed ya out. No more room for ya up there, ah don’t see ya…ah don’t feel ya…ah don’t taste ya, not anymore.’
His eyes widened at her every word, ‘No more wondering, hoping, thinkin’ ‘bout what Logan would say, or what he would do, no more of your fucked up memories twisting away up here, hurtin’…hurtin’ all the time.’
She smiled at him, and he realised she had the Magnum in her hands, clicking the safety on and off, rubbing the muzzle of her gun against the back of her head, ‘They killed the part of ya inside me Logan...’
She might as well have shot him a hundred times over, put the gun smack bang in the middle of my head baby and just pull the trigger; she chuckled coldly over his expression, and spoke softly up at him, ‘still think ah’m too far gone sugah?’
He gritted his teeth, ‘You were wrong Marie…’ his voice cutting and broken because of her words struggled to be heard. She tilted her head and regarded him curiously, ‘You were wrong, in the car when you said I chose a side and regretted it since…’
He stood up, his fists clenched by his sides, struggling to contain everything he felt, anger, disappointment and this burning ache, heavier than his adamantium could ever have been, heavier than all the fights he’d ever been through, burning through all the horrors he’d seen inflicted on himself and those he’d visited on others.
He walked carefully over to the window, Marie was stood in the far side corner of the room, her face cast in shadow, arms crossed defiantly over her chest, ‘I didn’t choose a side Marie…all those years ago, it was never ‘bout sides…I chose you.’
He couldn’t read her expression, but suddenly she had her gun drawn and aimed, ‘Logan…’ she spoke cautiously, the syllables of his name uttered carefully, ‘Logan, get the fuck down…’
His brow creased in frustration and confusion, she was crossing over to him quickly, until at the last few steps she dived on him pushing back against the wall. At the same time the window shattered, the glass raining inwards and he saw Marie lifted clean away from him and punched against the far wall.
Her head snapping back with a painful thud, Logan watched as her mouth fell open in surprise and shock before she slowly slid down to the floor, a trail of blood smeared down the wall in her wake.
He saw the red pinpoint dot hovering where she had stood, hovering across the patterns on the wall, and all at once realised what was happening.
Sniper…
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Marie was in overload, her body, her nerves, down to the blood in her veins screaming at a hundred miles an hour, and she wanted, needed, ached to share this with somebody. No question about it, the intensity of it all had her horny as hell...
A/N: Definitely a fave chappie to write so far, but if you listen really carefully you can hear the exact moment Marie breaks Logan's heart...:(
A/N: Definitely a fave chappie to write so far, but if you listen really carefully you can hear the exact moment Marie breaks Logan's heart...:(