Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

“I don’t need a Goddamn nurse-maid!” Logan snapped.

And he marched over to the door, yanking it open. Wincing in embarrassment and anger because the motion clearly hurt. Marie stared, putting the basin of hot water she’d fetched from his bathroom down, her expression telling him in no uncertain terms that this was the last situation in which she would indulge his Me Big Bad Wolverine Bullshit Routineä and that if she had to tie him down to make sure he got whatever help he needed she would do- Not that he would admit to needing help at all. After all, it wasn’t like being set upon by Pyro, Domino, Avalanche and Toad could be counted as much of a fight. Not by the mighty Wolverine’s high standards. But he looked like Hell, and he had to know it: Those bastards in Ryker’s had had a hold of him for nearly three hours and it was obvious what damage they’d done. Turned out, Sabre-tooth had taken Jubes’ posting footage of Kitty beating the shit outta him on Facebook and then entering it on America’s Funniest Downloads a teensy bit personal, so personal in fact that he’d staged a riot in The Vault Special Containment Unit then threatened to break out and come looking for Jubes. Knowing full damn well that she was pregnant and less able to defend herself- not that he gave a flying fuck. Cue half the NYPD and almost all the X-Men being called in to stop the riot before it got outta hand and Logan and Gambit going off on a John Wayne riff to find Creed before he could break out and go through with his threat to the Ju-Ju Bean-

And leading to Marie being woken at one in the morning to come act as chica’s bodyguard in the Mansion, in case things turned nasty. Because it wasn’t like something happening to Jubes and little Serendipity Marie-Katherine Ororo LeBeau was Marie’s worst nightmare or anything, she thought caustically. Hell no! And it wasn’t like seeing Logan limp in the door the way he had done five minutes ago was the kinda thing that made her see red neither-

Rogue, of course, being well known for her saintly sense of fucking Zen.

“Come on, darlin’,” Logan muttered then. “Get your Florence Nightingale ass back to your own room…” And he gestured awkwardly to the hall, all but dismissing her. Everything about him screaming that he was tired and worried and hurting- But still too proud to let his guard down and ask for her help. For a moment they glowered at one another, this oldest and longest-lasting argument raging between them, its manoeuvres so familiar that they could conduct it with just glares and cocked eyebrows, not even having to holler or -Christ forbid- communicate at all. She matched him glare for glare, snarl for snarl, his anger unwieldy and impossible and unmoving-

And then, as if all the strength had drained outta him Logan suddenly broke eye-contact. Turned so his back was against the wall, voice dropping an octave.

“Please don’t make me do this, Marie,” he said softly, “Please, darlin’…”

She sighed. “Ah ain’t making you do anything at all.”

And padded over to him, laying her hand gently on his cheek anyway. Rubbing soft circles with her thumb as she watched him try to force himself to relax. She belatedly realised that this was the closest they‘d been since she came back to Westchester and immediately she went to pull away from him-

This time however Logan didn’t let her.

This time he wrapped his big, blunt hand around her wrist and held her close as he could.

A beat.

“I don’t need your help,” he muttered gruffly then, still gripping her tightly.“My healing factor-”

“Is sluggish, has been ever since our adventure with Porn Smurf and Daken.” And she leaned into him more, a sense of butterflies buzzing in her belly, the need to see him well over-riding all else. She was waiting for the usual sense of awkwardness to arrive but apparently it was otherwise engaged, or maybe she was just too ragged with worry to give a shit. She could smell the stale sweat and blood on his skin and it was making her belly heat. “Why are you fighting me, shuggs?” she murmured. “Are you mad at me..?”

His eyes flashed at that. “I’m not angry at you,” he muttered, “I’m angry at me.” And he shook his head as if trying to clear it. The pain of the movement making his breath hiss. “You being…tender with me, taking care o’ me, it’s a lousy idea,” he was saying. He gestured to the basin of hot water she’d been holding.“You getting me wet in any way is even fucking worse.” He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath like he was about to do something painful. About to admit something he didn’t wanna give up. “I promised you control Marie,” he whispered finally, “And I wanna keep that promise. I wanna give you everything I promised and more. But if you start touching me I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself…”

And as if he’d admitted to a terrible weakness Logan gave her a tiny shove away, head dropping. His expression as close to defeated as Marie had ever seen-

While Marie’s heart burst into life in her chest.

Because in that second of apparent defeat she finally realised what was wrong, what was keeping him away from her. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to give her what she wanted, it was because he did. Seven months ago, when she’d asked for time he’d given it to her. When she’d asked for control, he’d given her that too. And now, when he was hurting so badly he could barely stand and was so worried about Jubes that he could barely keep the claws in check- He was still trying to give her what she wanted. Still trying to put her needs before his. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before, didn’t know what made tonight so different from any other night. But in that moment she knew, knew with a certainty she’d never felt before: She was first with Logan. Always had been, always would be.

It just took seeing him this hurt and still trying to take care of her that finally got that through her thick head.

She took in a deep breath then, feeling it filling her. Feeling it push away two and a half years anxiety and misery and redhead barflies and doubt. Feeling it push away the fear that he wasn’t what she wanted anymore and that she’d never be what he’d wanted again. Feeling it push away everything but the desire to take his heart in hers. Adrenaline began to surge, her pulse hammering: The last time she’d felt this excited she’d discovered the off-switch for her skin. But this was more than that, more than the joy and hope of control or even normality. This was knowing you were in the one place in the universe you were supposed to be and you knew why. She reached up on tiptoes and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, then his cheek again. Ignoring the hand he’s placed back on her heart- “This hasn’t healed, Marie,” he was muttering tightly- “It is healed, shuggs. Now let me touch you-” and pulling him closer. Kissing him, her mouth finding his as if she’d done this every day since she got back here. Her tongue sliding out to taste him, to swallow him down. For maybe a second Logan held still, determined not to respond but then- Then-

His mouth was on hers, his breath coming in sharp and quick and hungry. Arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her so close she thought she might collapse. He reversed their positions, the full, delicious length of him pressing her against the wall and she pulled him close, letting him bury his head in the crook of her neck. That warm, wet mouth working against her skin, his hands coming up- yes!- to cover her breasts. Heat flooded through her, wetness pooling between her thighs; His tongue flicked into her mouth, those warm hands moving all over her and making her squirm. He was bruised and battered and perfect and Logan-

And he was hers. Hers. Always had been. Always would be.

In that moment she couldn’t imagine how she’d thought anything else.

So she took his hand, pulling him towards the bathroom. Reaching down to remove the last of the X-suit and throw it outside. Logan’s gaze followed her as she moved to turn on the shower, as she began slowly taking off her own clothes. Eyes darkening fit to make her belly quiver as she removed the last of her underwear and stepped inside the shower’s warm spray. She took the soap and began lathering her hands- “You still wanna play nursemaid, darlin’?”- before holding them out to him. Her soapy, slick fingers tingling with the thought that they’d soon be touching him again. After a second’s pause he stepped under the spray, making to take the soap off her-The desire to give not take as strong in him as it had always been- But she held the soap out of his reach and began rinsing his shoulders instead. His smooth, warm skin every bit as perfect as she remembered against her own. She kneaded his arms, shoulders, pressing her fingers and then the heel of her hands into his trapezius, working her way down along the latissimus dorsi and the vertebrae until she reached his ass. Her arms snaking around to hold him to her, the hair of his chest scratchy against her palms as his nipples rose. The friction of his back unbelievably erotic against her breasts. He groaned in pleasure and she buried her face between his shoulder-blades, pressing small, butterfly kisses against his skin even as her soapy hands reached down to stroke his hips, his belly, his ass. He was hard, she could feel that, and getting harder, but when she tried to take him in her hand he slid his fingers through hers and pulled them away. Gathered them against his stomach to make sure they behaved. “You start washing down there,” he growled as he nipped along her neck, “Then this is gonna be over real quick-”

“Maybe Ah want it quick,” she whispered.

“Maybe I don’t.” And he kissed her again, wet and hot and searing, so hard she thought that maybe her heart stopped for a beat. His arms lifting her easily off the ground, his face buried in the valley between her breasts. Tongue darting out to taste her nipples, hot breath searing them and making them rise. Before she knew what was happening she had one leg hooked around his waist, her mound pushing wetly against him. Her soapy hands roaming around to anchor themselves in his ass, drawing a tiny hiss of pleasure outta him as her nails dug in. The hot water pounding down on them like rain. “Tell me,” he was growling into her skin, “Tell me what you want, Marie- But don’t say you want this over- Don’t say it has to be quick-”

She put her hand on his face, staring down at him. Letting those painfully intense hazel eyes meet hers and stare. “Ah wanna feel you inside me now,” she murmured, taking his hand and guiding it down between them. Blinking rapidly as she felt his warm, heavy hands against her wet curls. “Ah wanna feel you inside me so fucking much-”

“That I can do.” And she took his mouth for another kiss, even as one long, thick digit slipped inside her. Her wetness coating his fingers and making the most delicious, slippery friction against her skin. He broke the kiss, his tongue tracing its way down her torso even as his hands continued moving within her. His hair slick with the shower’s spray, water drops hanging on his lashes and beard. Marie moaned at the sight, a stream on incoherent pleas and orders tumbling outta her mouth; She knew what he was about to do before it even started but that didn’t stop the jolt of pleasure and sheer lust go through her as his tongue joined his fingers’ exploration. The flat, rough broad-side of that nimble muscle running across her clit in one quick stroke, his other hand gently caressing her inner thigh. She gave a strangled gasp, felt more than saw his mouth pull into a grin against her. Felt his lips and teeth find her clit and suck-hard- the sensation making her hips buck against his jaw. A pleased rumble went through him as she did and suddenly the most important thing in the world was his hands, his fingers, his tongue in her. The rhythm he was setting making her spasm and shake. Marie arched her back, her hands raking through his hair- “Please, Logan, please”- while her fears slipped away and her body took over. Riding higher and higher on waves of pure sensation, the fire in her belly singing through her blood. He sucked at her clit hard one last time and she shattered apart, screaming so loud she probably woke half the Mansion- But she was beyond caring. Beyond anything but the feeling of Logan between her legs. She slid down to the floor, her legs finally going out from under her and he came with her. Still lapping at her pussy as if she were his favourite dish, kissing her with her juices still on his mouth. Marie let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, every nerve in her body tingling with release and he kissed her again. Caressed her. “That was-” she breathed.

“Romantic, darlin’?” he grinned, biting her ear-lobe. “Worth the wait?”

“Totally fucking awesome was what Ah was gonna say.” And unable to help herself to burst into giggles, the stress she’d been carrying finally winding away, her fear with it. His expression softened at the sight. “Ah’d forgotten how much Ah loved doing that with you,” she murmured.

“I couldn’t forget how much I loved doing that with you.” He was nuzzling her thigh now, his grin mischievous. The hazel eyes glinting as they looked up from her lap. “So you didn’t mind being in control fer a bit?” he teased.

“If Ah knew control felt like that Ah’d have tried for world conquest years ago-”

He nipped at her hip. “Not too late.”

“Way too late.” She growled playfully. “Besides, the only control Ah want right not is here- with you.” And she moved to straddle him, delight shooting through her at the look on his face. Because he wasn’t horrified or angry that he wasn’t leading, he looked like he thought this was really fucking…hot. Hot enough to let her push him onto his back, his rough laughter spilling through the bathroom. Hot enough to not complain when she yanked a towel down to the floor and set about drying him- “Don’t want you catching a cold, shuggs-” the soft cloth removing the last of the grime and the blood, as well as the last of his bad mood. Within moments they were a tangle of towels and legs and biting, nipping kisses that made her pulse race. The desire to do more than get dry making them scramble back towards his bed in another tangle of kisses and laughter and sweat. For a few minutes they just made out there on the floor, Marie breathless, Logan purring softly in his chest the way he used to do. The vibration of it travelling through her hands, her lips where she kissed across his heart-

And then he reached beneath his bed pull out something.

A single, long opera glove that she remembered wearing two years ago, its silken green sheen glimmering in the light. For a second he just held it against his nose, breathing in the scent- “The live you smells better, darlin’,”- and then without any explanation he twined the fingers around one hand and the end around the other. Holding it out to her, stretching it as if trying to illustrate its length. Grinning like a kid who’d just thought of the best game in the world and wanted her to try it- Better yet, wanted her to play and win. For a moment Marie frowned, not understanding-

And then Logan placed the glove face down in her hands and turned away from her. His eyes closed, his breath held in anticipation. Smiling as he lowered his head and tugged her playfully towards him, at which point Marie finally got what he wanted her to do.

She placed it across his eyes and pulled it taught, letting him adjust to it.

And then, with a single stroke, she pulled the ends together and tied the knot.

There weren’t words, at least none that she knew of, for the sound he made then. A…shiver went through him, the feeling of being temporarily blinded pulling the reaction outta him as she doubted anything else would have done. The look of…peace? Contentment? Which crossed his face unlike anything Marie had ever seen. For a moment she couldn’t help herself, she just stared at him, unable to match this new and mysterious creature with the man she’d loved all these years. Unable to believe that this gruff, commanding person would give so much of his trust to her. And this was about trust, she did not doubt it; He was giving her his, just as surely as he would be asking for hers when she took him inside her again. A strange, heady, erotic feeling stole into her stomach at the thought, nervous butterflies of energy dancing up her spine as she watched him. The feeling growing stronger as she moved to gently kiss him. As she wet his lips, blowing gently on them before moving to kiss him again. Repeating this with his throat, his back, his shoulder-blades. Twining her hands in his and pulling them above his head on the floor, tracing the path of his claws beneath his forearms with mouth and teeth and nails. As she teased her way down to his heart. He gasped at the sensation, hips bucking, heavy arms twisting until their most sensitive spots were bared to her. Letting her bite and nip and suck until he growled deep in his chest from frustration, his hard cock pressed into her belly with need. “Tell me what you want, Marie,” he whispered, “Tell me…”

“All Ah want is you,” she whispered. “All Ah want is us…”

“Then take it, darlin’,” he said, voice husky with arousal. “Take it all.”

She started gently stroking him then, caressing, teasing. Using tongue and teeth and nails on his prick as she had on the path of his claws. The sensation of him thrusting into her mouth as arousing- as wanted- as it had always been. The velvety, warm cock-head a welcome weight against her jaw. His hands tangled in her hair, a snarl of pleasure exploding through him as he tugged her head upwards to kiss her, his tongue greedy and tangling and deep, drawing pleasure from every inch of her skin. She moaned into his mouth, keeping time with her fingers as pumped his cock slowly, wetly, as they ghosted across his nipples, his cock and thighs and ass. So good, so good, he felt so fucking good, and he was hers just like she was his. Every inch of her wanting every inch of him and determined to have him, so far inside this feeling she’d found with him that she couldn’t even begin to want to stop. She tugged his cock again, earning a hiss of pleasure and this time without warning she took him deep inside her. The length of him stretching her, filling her, the look on his face as he thrust his hips up to stroke her cunt almost enough to make come there and then. He growled as she began riding him, slow and steady. Growled again as she tugged his big, heavy hands upwards and cupped them against her breasts, her ass. One greedy, wet mouth latched onto her breast, his teeth taking the nipple; His other hand ghosted down to stroke her clit and thumb it, sending shocks of pleasure through her and making her shake with need. She showered darting, butterfly kisses on his face, his throat, his body even as he pinched and sucked her nipples. Even as he stroked deep inside her with that velvet-skinned, hard-and-wanted, deliciously pleasing cock. There was so much heat now, so much feeling. So much emotion in her body she thought she might burst. Their movements got faster, their kisses more heated. He was saying her name over and over now, his voice harsh with longing, the desperate need to come making him growl and grind into her, making him howl and hiss and shake how much he fucking loved her even as she screamed that she loved him. Marie let herself go, let the tension and pressure building in her fly apart even as she felt him coming deep inside her. Even as she heard his own sharp hiss at his spending himself inside her. She collapsed against him, eyes closed, breath heavily-

And when she could see again hazel eyes stared down at her, his smile almost but not quite shy. Dazzling.

A long, languid, luscious beat.

“Enough control?” Logan murmured then, stroking her back, her cheek, her belly. “Or do you need more, Marie?”

He held the glove out like a promise against her skin and grinned.

“No,” she whispered. “Ah think maybe only thing Ah really needed was you.”

And she buried her face against the crook of his neck, the wave of emotion at what had happened finally hitting her. The need to look away because looking at him would be too fucking much right now apparently something that Logan got. He held her close and rocked her, whispering soft, meaningless things into her hair that she knew meant the world to him. Trailing feather light kisses along her temple, her jaw, her cheekbones as he slowly caressed her into peace and sleep. They whispered and loved until the sun came up and never once could Marie find a shred of doubt within her about them, about what they’d just done together. She fell asleep in the dawn’s buttery light smiling at the thought.

And somewhere, deep inside her psyche, her inner Logan let out a deep, contented purr. Surveying his real-life counterpart through Marie’s eyes and satisfying himself that the moron was on the up and up. And that if it came down to it, he could totally take him in a fight.

Knew all that patience would get to her in the end, the inner Logan muttered, feeling smug as all get out.

And I didn’t even have to sing “I’m a little teapot,” once.