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.