Logan sat on the roof, his long legs sprawled, his back against a chimney when a breathless Rogue found him with an open bottle of whiskey planted between his knees. The night was clear and starry, but she didn’t notice. Plopping down beside him without saying a word, they sat in comfortably familiar silence for a while.
Rogue noted that his hands were less swollen. He was wearing jeans and socks, an unbuttoned shirt, and he hadn’t taken a drink from the bottle while she’d been there. Laying her head against his shoulder, she finally asked, “How much did you drink?”
“Prob’ly the equivalent of two doubles, maybe three,” his voice was slow and a little slurred.
“How does it feel?”
“Well, normally that amount wouldn’t affect me at all - nothin’. Things seem to be a little different now, since I ‘was’ standing up the last time I looked.” Rogue mannerly squelched a giggle with her palm pressed to her mouth, then elbowed him gently.
“You know, the pain medication you’ve been taking could have a lot to do with that. Pills and booze don’t mix, so give me the bottle, okay, Butch?” She set the bottle aside, out of his reach.
With mocking and inebriate seriousness, Logan said, “You’re too young to drink the liquor, but not to lick the drinker.”
With an audible snort, Rogue lost all sense of decorum and they both laughed themselves silly in the darkness, taking turns rocking against each others’ shoulder.
“Why is it when you’re the one doing the drinking, I’m the one feeling giddy?” Rogue grew silent as Logan’s hand eased onto her thigh and he teasingly squeezed her leg.
“You don’t ‘feel’ giddy to me; you feel warm. And soft... female,” his head turned toward her in the darkness, and he leaned into her again, nuzzling his face into her hair. “I know I’m drunk, and messed up, and all that shit, but don’t you dare think that’s the only reason I’m doin’ this.”
With a rush of heat, Rogue felt his tongue caress the shell edge of her ear, then his lips worked over her, teeth nipping softly at her earlobe. He had turned a little toward her and was easing his arms around her, drawing her onto him, and she allowed it, snuggling into the circle of his arms as she slowly crawled over him and knelt astride his hips. She felt his whiskey-warm breath drift across her skin as his tongue ran down her cleavage, nuzzling her shirt further open. His hands rested lightly on the swell of her hips, and she felt him harden beneath her, the heat and pressure against her body becoming obvious.
“Sugar, you’re not ready for this,” Rogue whispered into Logan’s ear, then gasped aloud as his lips wandered over one fabric-covered nipple, his teeth raking lightly over the protruding flesh. Rogue instinctively ground her pelvis against his, making him groan.
“I was ready the first time I saw you. I just had to wait until things were right with you, and now they are,” his hand came to her belly and he tried to grasp the edge of her shirt, pulling it up to reveal her to him, but his swollen fingers and aching hands wouldn’t cooperate. Plucking at the shirt’s edge again, he finally released it and let his head rock back against the brick chimney. “Fuck, and I promised you minimal fumbling last night.”
Leaning her forehead against his, she laughed softly, “You actually remember saying that? I thought you were mostly asleep and under the influence of the pain meds.”
“I remember sayin’ it. I meant it, too. I guess you’re right - drunk and doped up on the roof ain’t the way to lose your virginity. Sorry, babe,” he glanced down between them with a slight wobble to his head. “Hello, blue balls.”
Rogue tucked one hand beneath his chin and lifted his face to hers, “I could take you to the shower again. You seemed to like that last night.”
“Mmmm... you tempt me, darlin’.”
Rogue unfolded herself from above him and stood up on shaking legs, then reached to ruffle his dark hair through her fingers, “If you can stand up, I’ll take care of you.”
Logan was on his feet in moments but wavering slightly, so Rogue pushed him against the chimney and allowed her hands to wander over his bared chest beneath the open shirt. She’d never touched a man like this, all warm skin and thick muscle. She had always wondered if she could feel the metal on his bones in places other than the backs of his hands. Maybe in other parts of his body where the muscle layer wasn’t so massive she would, but here he was just hard and warm and strong and hairy. Her fingers laced through the dark hair on his chest and belly, enjoying the silken tickle of it. Closing in to him, she nuzzled him, brushing her cheek against the soft hair, then her lips went to his throat and he rolled his head back again, exposing his throat to her. Rogue wondered if that was a feral trait of submission in him, to expose a vulnerable part of himself to someone he trusted. He was giving her the power over him, laying himself open to her in complete trust and surrender.
Shyly sliding the tip of her tongue over his bared throat, she tasted him, caressed him, kissed him, stroked him, nuzzled him until he was groaning again and thrusting his groin against her belly. Her fingers edged around his ribs inside the shirt, making his skin tingle and tighten. The pads of her fingers brushed lightly over both his nipples at once, making him gasp and flatten himself to the chimney for support. Rogue saw his head snap down, eyes gleaming in the sullen glow from the distant security lights around the mansion. Panting with desire, he kissed her hard, fingers clumsily lacing through her hair, then pulling her shirt upward from the back and stroking his hands over her skin. She could feel the scrape of his stitches against her bare skin, but said nothing. Knowing at some gut level that she had accidentally set the Wolverine loose when she’d only intended to give Logan some physical pleasure, she now had both of them to deal with here on the roof.
And both of them were drunk and horny.
“Logan,” she breathed against his shoulder, “let’s go down to that shower I promised you. It’ll be more private than here.”
“Don’t care,” he muttered as his mouth sought her throat, “want you here, on the floor, up against the chimney, on your knees, don’t care....” He bit her lightly, then harder and held on to her skin as his hands circled around to her breasts, thumbs rubbing firmly over her nipples, again making her feel streams of fire shooting through her body, mainlined into her crotch. She had to keep her head.
“Logan, listen to me. I don’t want to do it here. I do want my first time to be with you, just like we talked about last night, but not on the roof, and not drunk, okay?” That seemed to snap him out of the lust, and he looked down into her dark eyes with an unreadable expression on his face.
There was a heart-wrenching tone of regret in his voice as he leaned into her and held her close to him, his hands staying at her waist, “I’m sorry, Marie. You deserve better. I’m drunk and fucked up in the head, and you deserve better.”
“Come downstairs with me now,” she asked him, trying to gently ease them both out of the rush of sexual arousal. “I want to go to your room together, and we’ll take it from there. You comin’ with me, or do I have to bait you?” She gave him an innocent smile.
“I’m all yours, Sundance,” he regarded the abandoned whiskey bottle, “but my friend comes along with us.”
“Promise me you won’t drink any more tonight, and I’ll agree.”
Logan crossed his heart with two quick strokes of his finger, then watched as Rogue retrieved the bottle from the rooftop. “Are you too drunk to maneuver the steps, sugar?”
“Nope.”
“Come on.”
In the shower, she noticed that he got both hands wet immediately as he pushed her into the shower’s spray, letting the warm water run over her bare skin as he slipped slowly to his knees before her. His tongue snaked between the folds of her cleft and he began the stroking that had made her explode in orgasm the night before. The warm water cascading over her body eased away every hesitation and regret that she’d been harboring as she allowed the fire of his mouth on her to melt her inside and out. Finally she collapsed against him on the shower floor when she’d stopped shaking inside, the orgasm making her legs turn to butter. Easing herself into position, she slithered forward to brush her lips over the silky skin of his jutting cock. Logan gasped at the touch and pulled her head up from him to regard her.
“Baby, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to learn how. Teach me. Just tell me if I do something wrong,” she parted her lips and slithered her tongue over the smooth head as he twitched at the intimate touch, but allowed her to explore him with her mouth and hands. Warm water rained softly down on them both as his hard flesh slid between her lips. He groaned and writhed at the heat and silkiness of her tongue on him, guiding her gently one way, then another, and finally separating himself from her with both hands.
“I’m gonna come, and you’re not ready for me to come in your mouth. Trust me on that, baby. This is all too new for you,” without a word her hands went for the soap and then to his demanding erection. Growing bolder with the experience, she grasped him firmly and stroked him quickly to climax, making him shout her name as he pumped into her hands, the creamy drops sliding away in the flow of the water. They crawled together and laid in the soft fall of liquid warmth, arms wrapped around each other and still trembling with the experience. Washing each other quickly and gently, they each rinsed and dried before collapsing in his bed. Thirty minutes later, Logan slept soundly as Rogue tip-toed into the bathroom and checked his prescription bottles. He’d missed an antibiotic and one pain pill, but he was still sleeping and apparently comfortably. Putting the antibiotic bottle on the bedside table, she turned out the lights, and snuggled against him to drift off to sleep.
Down the hall, Shelly thought over the snatches of conversation she’d heard: the groans, the soft words of encouragement, the way the man had growled the woman’s name and then gasped. A man only made noises like that for one reason, and Shelly knew it. Little Miss Rogue and the teacher called Logan had been in the shower together, and having sex. Just how important that information would be was of less interest to her than what she could do with it. Teaching small children was boring, and she’d yet to make any new friends in the mansion since she’d come back as a staff member, so there was precious little to do but listen and think and imagine.
Shelly decided to figure out the puzzle of who was dating who, who was screwing who, and who cared about who, just to amuse herself after school hours. Rogue was supposed to be Bobby Drake’s girlfriend, but she was secretly screwing Logan. Bobby was sniffing around that little Kitty person, but still keeping tabs on Rogue. Kitty seemed to be all-eyes-on-Bobby, hardly noticing anyone else, even when the big guy Peter-something had asked her out and she’d begged off with an overload of homework. It was all just too much like a soap opera, and she adored her afternoon stories. The teaching job had cut short watching her soaps, but the real-life story here was much more intriguing. The floor was quiet now, only the sounds of relaxed breathing coming from the surly guy’s room. Everything else was quiet except Storm’s office where the sound of papers being shuffled was predominant.
With one last check, Shelly settled down in bed and grabbed a pen and her new journal. Dating the opening page, she wrote:
“Monday: the story begins. Shower sex, overworked headmistress, and love-struck teenagers. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.”
She started writing snippets of what she was overhearing, and assigning anonymous names to the characters. Maybe some day, when her assignment here was done, she’d write a best-selling novel!
Down the hall, Bobby knocked on Rogue’s door, but was met with silence for the second night in a row. With only a momentary hint of invasive guilt, he tried the knob and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open, he scanned the room, then called her name once into the emptiness, then switched on the light.
The sweater she’d worn on the mission was tossed onto the bed. She’d been here after their return from the city. He pressed on the sweater pocket and felt the lump that was the ring box, the ring he’d given her as a birthday gift. She still hadn’t tried it on.
Bobby had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew where she was, but he didn’t want to deal with that inevitable confrontation again. Turning out the light and closing the door behind him, he headed for the kitchen. It would be a long night.
Shelly added one last phrase to the journal before she turned off her light.
‘Young, handsome cuckold; such a gullible fool.’
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Groping, grinding, and eavesdropping. VERY ADULT CHAPTER! Consider yourself warned.