Damned if I’m gonna let you screw this up, Wolverine snarled. Logan had the disconcerting feeling of being shoved aside in his own head as Wolverine took control of his body. However, mindful of Wolverine’s earlier comment about being able to take control only when Logan wasn’t actively fighting him, Logan was very careful not to shove back once he realized that his lips were pressed firmly to Marie’s.
Uhh, Logan mentally cleared his throat, hey…I’m not gonna object, so how about you move over so we’re both front and center.
He felt Wolverine’s wordless agreement and suddenly his senses were filled with Marie. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her lips against his, the silken strands of her hair caught between his fingers, and the intriguing mix of softness and firmness of her body beneath his.
The press of Marie’s fingernails into his shoulders made Wolverine want to growl with pleasure and the sound trickled from between Logan’s lips.
Her neck… Wolverine barely thought, and already Logan’s lips were fastened over the pulse point in her slender throat. They both wanted to feel more of her against them, so there was no conscious decision from either to slide a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and begin working it up the ladder of her ribs.
“L-Logan?” Marie asked breathlessly, catching his hand in hers.
No no no, they chanted desperately, she isn’t gonna tell us to stop, is she? A rapid, wordless conversation took place between one breath and the next and they agreed that it didn’t matter - if that’s what Marie wanted, that’s what they’d do.
Barely containing a sigh, Logan/Wolverine lifted his head. He left his hand where it was, though. “Yeah, darlin’?” he asked, his voice cinderblock rough.
“Ah…Ah need to know if it’s you or not.”
“Both,” he rumbled, holding her gaze intently with his vibrantly golden eyes.
“You sure about that?” she asked nervously, swallowing hard.
His eyes fixed on the rippling motion of her throat. “Uh huh. Wouldn’t lie to you.” There was a brief moment of thought, its origin unclear, about his shortened speech pattern before it was dismissed as unimportant.
“L-Logan?” With an effort, he pulled his attention away from her throat and met her eyes again. “You’re not just along for the ride, are you, sugar? This is what you want too?”
He nodded and attempted to put the affirmation into words, but all that came out was a satisfied rumbling that sounded like a purr.
It startled Marie at first, and then a wide grin stretched the corners of her mouth. “Well all right then,” she said.
That was all they needed. In a motion so fast Marie barely had time to squeak, Logan had gathered her up in his arms and headed up the stairs toward his room. There was no question of whether it would be his room or hers; she belonged to him now and she would be safely ensconced in his territory. When Marie made no protest as he shouldered open his door, he figured she understood and approved that reasoning as well.
Three quick strides was all it took to reach the bed, and as he followed her down, careful to catch the bulk of his weight on his elbows, an urgent, wordless thought floated up. It’s important she understands….
“Marie,” he rasped, eyes on hers, “you know this means forever, right?”
With his chest pressed against hers, he felt her breath hitch and then leave her body in a long sigh.
“Forever,” she agreed, pulling him toward her.
* * *
Hours - days? - later, Logan lay with a sleeping Marie curled against his chest, his arm around her and their bare legs twined together beneath the covers. He inhaled their combined scents contentedly as he rubbed his thumb over the point of her left shoulder. He pondered without worry the continuing presence of Wolverine front and center in his mind. He no longer heard words from his counterpart, could no longer see him as a separate entity. He was just there, his thoughts and desires in line with Logan’s. The almost constant tug-of-war of the last twenty years was finished with neither side being the winner. Or both sides being the winner, he thought, casting a satisfied smirk at the woman beside him.
The smirk gentled into a smile as he took in her tangled hair and still flushed cheeks. She had been an odd mix of shyness and boldness, he remembered, going suddenly still before gripping him with renewed frenzy. It had happened when he pulled her shirt over her head and seen her nearly bare before him for the first time. It had happened when he first fastened his lips over her breast. When he caught the backs of her knees in his hands and pulled her legs around his hips to let her feel all of him against her.
They had both gone still the moment he slid into her, a confusing jumble of physical and emotional satisfaction overwhelming him, and what he could only describe as startled wonderment on her face. He had watched her face carefully for signs that she was all right, that the pain wasn’t too much. When the barest hint of frustration began to furrow her brows, he placed a gentle kiss there and began to move. Feeling her gasp against his throat, he chuckled and buried his face in the curve between her shoulder and neck, gripping lightly with his teeth. He relished the feel of her nails scoring his back, and as his satisfaction increased, he felt the strangest urge to make sure his hands were not against her body.
As much as he wanted to continue gripping her hips, he nonetheless slid his hands up her sides and under her shoulders, letting her rest against his forearms, his hands fisted several inches away from her head. The position satisfying the wordless urge, he returned his focus to Marie, listening to the changes in her breathing in response to his motions, the throaty sounds she made, and lost himself in her.
* * *
Rogue blinked slowly awake. Seeing her hand splayed on Logan’s bare chest made her smile.
“You awake, kid?” he asked gently, his voice husky.
It was stupid, she knew it was. But she couldn’t help the scalding blush that rushed from her chest, up her neck, and across her cheeks. Cursing her fair skin and the fact that she was currently wearing nothing, Rogue mumbled vaguely into Logan’s chest.
The muscled skin beneath her hot cheek rippled in a silent laugh just before Logan reached across her back to wrap her securely in both arms. He rolled onto his side facing her and hugged her tight. Rogue buried her face against his neck and returned the embrace, feeling a renewed heat to her blush as her breasts flattened against his chest. Logan chuckled and dropped a kiss on her hair.
“You all right?” His voice was still gentle, but Rogue could hear the seriousness of the question.
“Yeah, Ah’m all right,” Rogue whispered into his neck.
“You sure?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Gonna look at me any time soon?”
Rogue tightened her grip on him and tucked her face more securely into his neck. Enjoying his scent as she took a breath, Rogue replied, “No.”
She could feel the laugh bubbling up from his chest before it spilled out.
“Embarrassed?” he teased.
Rogue nodded.
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“Darlin’, look at me,” Logan cajoled, lifting the shoulder she was hiding against, hoping for a peek at her face.
“No,” Rogue mumbled.
“Hey, kid, what’s the matter?” The honest worry in his voice made Rogue lift her eyes for a lightning-quick glance at his face. The expression she saw there - an odd mix of worry, tenderness, happiness, love - had her pulling away just enough so they could look at each other when she answered.
“Ah dunno know. Just kinda…Ah dunno how to explain how Ah feel.”
Logan frowned. “Regrets?”
“No!” Rogue exclaimed, shaking her head, and reaching up to smooth the frown away. The gratifying quickness of the denial had the faintest trace of a smile lifting Logan’s lips.
“Then just start talkin’. We’ll figure it out.”
“Did Ah do…well, Ah mean, Ah didn’t do anything’ wrong, did Ah?”
“There’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ together, darlin’.”
“No, that’s not what Ah meant.” Rogue waited for Logan to answer.
“Uhh…not followin’, darlin’.”
The blush was back. “Dammit, Logan! Did Ah do everythin’ right?” she demanded angrily.
Logan howled with laughter, absently catching her fist in one hand when she punched his shoulder. When his laughter finally calmed, he promised, “You did everythin’ just fine, darlin’.” Unable to resist, he teased, “Any better and I think you might’ve killed me.”
“Oh, well good,” Rogue said.
“Good?” Logan snorted.
“Well, yeah. Ah mean, Ah thought everythin’ was goin’ all right, but toward the - the end, when you popped the claws, Ah wasn’t sure. Thought you might’ve been angry with me fer somethin’.”
Logan grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her away a little. “I popped my claws? Where did I get you, darlin’? Shit…you sure you’re okay?” He ran his hands down her arms and along her ribs, trying to find where he cut her.
“No, Logan, you didn’t cut me,” she protested, cupping his face in her hands to make him look at her. “Ah’m fine, sugar, promise.”
He searched her face so intently she felt the blush starting again. “It was when your hands were up by the pillow,” she blurted.
That’s why, Logan thought. That’s why I felt like I shouldn’t have my hands against her. He frowned minutely, wondering at the strangeness of the situation. He had never lost control of his claws with other women, and now Marie was telling him that he not only had he lost control with her, he didn’t even remember it happening.
He reached for the pillow beneath Rogue, gently cradling her head with his other hand. He flipped the pillow over and traced the six slices in the cover.
“I almost hurt you,” he said, his voice low. Whether he meant it as a confession or an apology wasn’t clear.
“No, sugar, Ah was perfectly safe. You wouldn’t let me hold onto your hands. Kept shakin’ me off. That’s why Ah thought you might’ve been angry. But Ah couldn’t ask you ‘bout it when it happened ‘cause Ah was a little…uh, distracted.” Rogue smiled at him shyly.
Hearing her say it, Logan had a vague recollection of Rogue gripping his hands tightly in hers and of him quickly bringing her hands back to his shoulders and holding them there until she started kneading her fingertips against his back again.
Logan frowned again, but dismissed the issue for the moment. Tossing the pillow aside, he rolled Rogue onto her back and braced his weight on his elbows. He began smoothing her hair back while she feathered the tips of her fingers over each of his features in turn before finally sliding her hands down his neck to rest on his shoulders.
A flash of redness beneath the strands of her hair caught Logan’s attention and he brushed the long locks away from Rogue’s neck. There, in the curve between her shoulder and neck, was the faint impression of his teeth. Little beads of blood had welled up and dried at the sharpest points, and the rest of the area was a dusky rose color, the edges of the mark speckled with tiny spots of blood that showed up clearly beneath her fair skin.
Logan ran his thumb gently over the mark, relieved when Rogue showed no discomfort at his touch. A strange burn of satisfaction spread through his chest at the sight of his mark on her.
“I marked you,” he told her, wanting to see her reaction.
Rogue slapped a hand over his. “You gave me a hickie?” she asked, surprised, but not angry.
“Not exactly a hickie,” Logan said dryly. “You’ll understand when you look in the mirror.”
Rogue started to roll away as if to immediately search out said mirror, but she paused at the edge of the bed and looked back at Logan uncertainly. Her shy stranglehold on the sheet covering her chest said it all.
Chuckling, Logan pulled her back to him. “No rush, darlin’,” he said, pretending not to understand her embarrassment, “we can stay in bed all day if you want to.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her soft lips and ran his hand along her ribs toward her breasts.
Catching his hand quickly, Rogue blurted, “Ah’m too sore to do anythin’ right now, Logan.” She blushed a violent scarlet.
“Oh,” Logan returned calmly, only mildly disappointed. He had expected that, after all. “Well then, darlin’, grab a shower while I make us some breakfast." He turned away from her with the pretext of reaching for his jeans on the floor to give her a chance to grab her own clothes.
“Logan!” Rogue’s startled exclamation had him turning his head quickly.
“What is it?” he asked, seeing the worry on her face. Rogue reached for his back, letting go of the sheet covering her breasts. As much as he enjoyed the view, he was distracted by the faint stinging sensation as Rogue pressed her fingers along his shoulder blades.
“Why didn’t these heal?” she asked anxiously.
Logan’s eyes went to the mirror behind her on the opposite side of the room. In it, he saw thin red lines arcing from his shoulder blades forward toward his ribs. From what he remembered of seeing others heal, he guessed that the scrapes were at least several hours old.
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