They spent the rest of the afternoon, until after the sun had gone down, rocking back and forth in their chairs, occasionally switching the position of the feet against the railing, popping beers that almost magically appeared, courtesy of Rose behind the bar, when the ice bucket ran low. Sometime they were quiet for long periods, just watching the boats and pelicans. Sometimes they talked about nothing important…just everyday things. What she’d experienced for the first time: flying commercial, fishing, swimming in the ocean, snorkeling, the mild burn she received her first day until she learned to use sunscreen, shopping for new clothes, getting her nails professionally done.
Everyday things, just like normal people. Not X-men, not mutants. Just a guy and a gal, kicking back.
When the dinner crowd started to come in, she sat up stretched. “Much as it’s easier to be around people now, I’m still not a fan of crowds.” She stood up, grabbed her purse from the floor and grinned at him. “While flying on something other than the Blackbird or Xavier’s jet was a new experience, I’ve got to admit I’m not doing that again if I can help it.” She waved her hand in front of her face as though the remembered smell of almost 200 hundred bodies tightly packed in the hermetically sealed plane still haunted her.
Logan put his boots back on and surveyed the ever filling restaurant. After such a pleasant afternoon he was not particularly keen to have the day end so soon. “You hungry?”
“Not really, but I do want to freshen up. Lord, you have to take showers 3 times a day down here, it’s damn hot,” Marie said as she flapped her skirt playfully with her hands, showing Logan flashes of tanned thighs.
“You’re not kidding, I could definitely use one myself.” Logan wasn’t necessarily conscientious of his hygiene, as he was a man who’d had rough it often and on many levels, but this heat was something he really wasn’t prepared for, nor was the fascinating planes of Marie’s exposed skin. A shower was definitely in order, very cold.
He followed her to the parking lot, intent on following her back to wherever she was staying, not only to continue the evening but also to make sure she wasn’t doing something completely reckless like camping. It wasn’t the Brotherhood he was worried about ambushing her through a flimsy wall of nylon, but the prospect of hunkering down in the malarial night air, that made him a bit nervous. No way was he going to not stick around and watch over her now that he’d spent so much energy getting down here. And it would nice to hang out with Marie one-on-one with her being in such a good mood.
Next thing, I’ll be considering scuba diving myself he smirked, knowing that any attempt to go in the ocean would result only in him sinking like a stone, weighed down as he was with over 200 extra lbs. of adamantium.
“Where’re you staying? Please tell me it has A/C,” he asked as he slung his leg over his motorcycle. Marie grabbed a small bag from the jeep she had apparently rented and climbed up behind him on the bike unexpectedly. It took him a moment to quell the shiver that ran through him as he felt her bare arms encircle his waist as she snugged herself again him in preparation for the ride.
Logan kicked the bike to life, goosed the gas a little more than strictly necessary just to make the engine throb. He was definitely enjoying the feeling of Marie’s chest, covered only in that top and tantalizing scraps of cloth she called a bathing suit, pressed against his t-shirt. He revved the engine again and she whooped with laughter, shaking delightfully against him.
“I’m out there.” Unwrapping one arm from his waist, she gestured. He took a moment to slide his eyes down the length of her arm, noting the soft appearance of the crook of her elbow, then down to her tapered fingernail pointing to a long, narrow spit of land covered in palm trees, that were placed a little too perfectly to natural, that jutted out into the ocean about 300 yards down the beach. At the very end stood a massive white house, perched at the end of the single peninsula and surrounded on three sides by shimmering water. It was practically its own island over a quarter mile off shore.
“That place? You’ve sold a lot more Girl Scout Cookies than I thought to swing something like that,” he shouted over the bike’s engine.
Marie leaned forward and spoke almost directly into his ear to avoid yelling, “It’s Warren’s.”
Logan’s stomach dropped a few inches inside him. “Worthington? Is he here?” He did not like the idea of her staying with Angel. He was exactly the type of guy Logan suspected a girl who can suddenly touch would want to touch first: good looking and disgustingly rich. That guy was too loaded to be actually as genuine as he seemed. Logan secretly suspected Angel to be a manwhore hiding in a choirboy’s appearance. Of course, in Logan’s estimation any man that took interest in his Marie was a creep. He had never liked the way Warren looked at Marie during his visits to the Institute. As if she was something to be added to his collection, like a painting or a new sports car.
Rogue chuckled in his ear, a sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Of course not, that would defeat the whole point of coming here. He owed me a favor and let me borrow it.” She slipped her arm back around Logan’s waist, squeezing gently. “Hardly a favor, since he has about 20 houses anyway.”
Logan nudged the throttle to take them back to the highway and down to the turnoff to Worthington’s private drive. Once clear of other traffic, he suddenly hit the gas and raced down the long slash of land towards the house, a quick but exhilarating trip made more enjoyable by Rogue clenching her hands into his white t-shirt and throwing her head back to laugh madly as the palm trees that raced over their heads.
Stopping the bike, Logan looked the place over and a whistled at the sheer swankiness of the Worthington “beach house.” Beach mansion was more like it. Three stories, glowing in the light of the rising moon, and so pristine Logan almost felt embarrassed to enter the foyer, as grungy as he was.
“It’s a bit much,” Marie admitted, smiling slyly at him as his head swiveled back and forth from the crystal chandeliers to the 2 story tall windows that overlooked the ocean from various angels.
“Yeh,” he mused, rubbing a hand absently along his jaw line, “It sucks.” He grinned at her then said, “Ok, before I sprain my neck looking around, maybe you can show me where I can throw my shit and take a shower.” He knew, and so did she, it was a forgone conclusion that now that he’d found her he wasn’t going to just leave her there alone. If she’d put up a fuss about it, he would’ve barged in anyways. She didn’t seem to mind in the least.
“Oh god, you have got to see the bedrooms,” Marie said, her eyes twinkling in excitement, “you will not believe them.” As casual as could be, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the stairs. Logan immediately interlaced his fingers with hers, allowing her to pull him upstairs.
“Your room, sir.” With a grand gesture as she flung open two double door to a room made almost entirely of glass, the walls nothing but a giant windows facing the ocean on every side. In the middle, an impossibly large wrought iron bed covered in white linens. He rubbed one of the sheets between two fingers and was simultaneously impressed and annoyed at the lightness and quality of the material.
Angel definitely has too much money.
Logan had to admit that while he could rough it even on the hard ground in the woods, and had on many occasions, even he was a sucker for a nice bed…and it made his feel like a bit of a pansy. Still, it looked awfully inviting. Logan started to sit on the bed, ready to flop back and take a nap after a day of travel and unexpected surprises.
Marie’s shriek made him bolt upright. She shot an accusing finger at him, “Do not even THINK about sitting on that. You’re filthy!” She walked over door on the other side of the room and poked her head inside, “Wow, I haven’t even seen this bathroom yet. I’m almost jealous.”
Logan stood up from the half crouched position her shout has frozen him in and joined her at the door. “It’s okay,” he grunted at the sight of a empty full length Jacuzzi bathtub next to a large steam shower with apparently enough sprayers to put out the Great Chicago Fire.
“Niiiiice,” Rogue said approvingly, walking over to the shower. She opened the door and looked inside. Pointing at an array of buttons in the wall, she said “I think you’ll need an instruction manual to operate it.”
“I’ll live, as long as one of those buttons doesn’t douse me with that cologne Angel soaks himself in.” Marie laughed and turned to go. Logan toed off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head. Logan leaned into the shower and randomly punched buttons to hopefully crank the thing to something useful, finally turning on the overhead spray, and a few others in the walls. Satisfied the overly-complex plumbing was working he raised his arms over his head, flexing his arms and shoulders, stretching as hard as he could in anticipation of a long hot shower. He dropped his jeans and kicked them to where his shirt lay and stepped in.
Oh god. That feels good.
Water pounded him from several directions, hitting his thighs which were stiff from the ride and the spot in his lower back that always hurt, no matter what. He sighed and leaned into the spray, letting it thrum into him. He rested his head against the cool tile and rethought over everything that day. Especially Marie’s legs. Those long tanned legs, and those inviting lines of freckles that traced over her calf, behind her knee, and disappeared under her skirt. He wondered if she had freckles elsewhere, and his imagination took over: a light sprinkling on her breasts, another on her shoulder that arced over and down her back. He pictured himself kissing every single one, savoring that long hidden skin, showing her the difference between a touch and a TOUCH.
Logan ran the soap across the back of his neck and massaged it in, then smoothed his hands across his shoulders, wrapping fingers around and over cords of muscles that twisted down to his forearms. His hand made hard circles on his forearms where the flesh was the most strained by his claws. He soaped his hands vigorously then worked them over the hard planes, working out the kinks that always built up from consciously holding back the claws all day. He groaned when he hit that exact sore spot in between the radius and ulna that ached the most, but when he worked it for a few minutes the knot came loose. He sighed in relief and popped his claws then retracted them, which felt a lot better now than it would have a few minutes ago. He turned on the steam function to take care of the last of the aches, then returned to soaping his chest, resting against the far wall and a particularly strong jet that pulsed against the small of his back.
It wasn’t hard to imagine it was Marie’s hand on his chest, not with the images of her breasts in that tight bikini filling his mind, the remembered feel of her hand soft and gentle on his arm, her scent still lightly tracing the air from her short walk through the bathroom. Latching onto her smell, Logan could almost believe she was there, touching him. He closed his eyes and let the hot water fall over him, visualizing that it was Marie’s tongue that was now tracing an arc down his cheek, past his jaw line, pausing for a moment to dip into his collarbone before continuing its downward journey past his chest to his waist. Her scent was almost a taste he could savor in his mouth and Logan couldn’t hold back any longer and gripped himself in his fist. The soap was a natural lubricant as he stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing at the base and releasing at the head, then harder as he thought of those freckles behind her knee, the ones he imagined circle her navel. Her scent on the superheated and saturated air turned him on intensely.
God Marie, you smell so good he thought, and furiously upped his tempo, turning into the sprayer, letting the pulsing water pound his abs and pelvis as he pistoned his shaft in his hand. He leaned the other hand against the wall, holding himself up with one forearm as he jacked harder, squeezing almost to the point where the pleasure became pain and he felt his balls tighten against his groin. Logan panted at the mental picture of running his hands along that trace of freckles up both of Marie’s thighs to her sex while her hand closed on his cock and worked it with those powerful but small hands. Along with that thought was the fantasy that she was touching herself in her own shower and it finished him off. With a groan that was more of a growl torn from his chest Logan came hard in two hard spurts that shot on the wall and floor, his cock jerking in his hand. He moaned in satisfaction as he spasmed hard, twice, in his fist. He jerked on more time and another shudder ran through his frame, causing the muscles in his abdomen to clench hard with pleasure, then relaxation poured through him, spreading from his now relaxed cock and radiating outward to every muscle in his body all the way to top of his head. Almost dizzy from the strength of his ejaculation Logan and leaned forward and rested his forehead against the tiled wall, breathing hard, took his hand off himself and bashed it into the control panel, miraculously turning off all the jets but the overhead.
Slowing his rapid breath, he let the water pool over the back of his neck and down his body. He finished lathering up and washing off, more relaxed than he’d been in a long time, and he started to whistle as he rinsed the last of the suds from his frame. Marie’s scent had drifted away. Walking naked back into the bedroom he grabbed another pair of jeans and threw them on. He thought momentarily about putting on his shirt but then decided not to. If she was going to flit around in a tank top, he was going to fuck the shirt altogether. Bare footed, he walked down the hall and called Marie’s name. No answer, he sniffed the air and followed her fading scent down to the hall to what was surely her room. He listened at the door and, hearing nothing, slowly opened it and poked his head in. The sound of a water running from behind a closed door a few feet away told him she was enjoying whatever passed for a shower in her own bathroom. Again the image of her with tendrils of water pouring through her hair and over her breasts flooded his mind. He shook the thought away, chiding himself for a dirty old man, and went to find the kitchen.
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Chapter End Notes:
I just had to get him naked in the shower. You understand!