Even though he sat at the bar with his back to the door, he knew the moment she walked in. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of lilacs and honey mixed with her own, tempting fragrance. He was strong, though. He didn't have to turn, didn't have to watch her saunter across the room with her friends, hips swaying as if in time with the song blaring from the speakers above his head. His head apparently felt differently, however, since it turned of its own volition, eyes seeking out the slim figure, the soft curves in all the right places.
He swallowed convulsively and took a long pull at his beer. It was his fifth, not that it mattered. His mutation made pretty quick work of metabolizing alcohol. He wasn't even buzzed yet. So why was he getting light-headed? He felt a shiver run through him as he took in her short black skirt and tiny green tank top with thin straps barely holding it on.
Dammit, she wasn't supposed to wear shit like that! She was way too young for that outfit or the black stiletto heels, the tousled curls that made it look as if she'd just gotten out of bed, or the smoky make-up that somehow gave the sweet innocent he thought he knew bedroom eyes, the kind that dared you to push her up against the headboard and—dammit, no! His hands clenched into fists of their own accord, and he barely kept the long, sharp claws hidden beneath the skin from popping out at the way the other men int the room were looking at her. The only thing that stopped him cold was the thought that popped into his head.
MINE!
Only she wasn't his. One deep, passion-filled kiss while she was drunk on the success of finally controlling her powers did not make her his, no matter what his instincts kept insisting. It didn't make him hers, either. A friendly kiss between...well, friends wasn't a sign of anything except how comfortable they were with each other. Even if it had involved tongue. For a second. Maybe five or ten. There was no need to go overboard, to assume that something was there that really wasn't.
“Rogue!” One of her friends was already at a booth, waving the small group over. Logan watched through narrowed eyes as the younger man grabbed her hand—her bare hand—and pulled her down into the booth, wrapping his arm around her in a hug that lasted a lot longer than Logan thought it should have. The moron was asking for a beating, even though he could tell from across the room that Rogue barely paid attention to the arm around her shoulders.
MINE!
No. No, she wasn't. She didn't think of him that way, and even though he knew she'd just passed her twenty-first birthday—hell, he'd provided the booze for the party—she was just too young. It wasn't right. He didn't even know how old he was. It would never work.
From across the room Logan saw a smile light up those dark brown eyes, her beautiful lips curving with the laughter he heard so easily despite the music. Then she turned, and those eyes were looking straight into his. Something about her smile changed as she stared at him. Her eyelids drooped just a little, masking her eyes ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips spread further with an expression that was practically feline. Was it the way she licked those lips slowly or the wink she gave him before turning back to her friends that did it? Either way, something inside him snapped.
Logan downed the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle down on the bar. He rose, incredibly grateful for whatever impulse caused him to open a tab tonight. Nodding to the bartender to indicate he was done for the night, he headed toward the booth that held Rogue and her friends. She glanced back in his direction, and her eyes widened when she noticed him approaching. Did she really think her flirting wouldn't come with consequences?
“Rogue, there's something I need to discuss with you,” Logan ground out once he reached them. Rogue's eyes dropped to the table for a moment, and she fiddled with the napkin in front of her.
Jubilee's voice broke in before Rogue had a chance to reply. “Aw, c'mon, Wolverine! We just sat down! Plus, it's Friday! Work doesn't apply for another two whole—” by that point Jubilee had actually turned around to look up at him, and she shut up pretty fast.
Rogue raised her eyes to Logan's and smiled slightly. “It's okay, Jubes. I'll be right back,” she said reassuringly as she slipped out of the booth to stand beside Logan. He caught her hand in his and began pulling her away.
As they left he could hear her friends speculating in the background. “Do you think it's the skirt?” “No, I'm betting on the top. Papa Logan doesn't want to see all that skin on Little Rogue.” Snickers all around.
They have no idea, Logan thought, dark humor filling his mind for a moment before his focus shifted back to Rogue. He led her through the bar until they reached the side door he'd been headed for. He shouldered the door open after a quick look at the bartender, who knew him and just winked.
The alley was quiet as they entered it. Just enough light penetrated from the street to see that it was reasonably clean. It helped that this was Westchester and not New York City. Logan dropped Rogue's hand and turned to face her. Step by slow, torturous step he moved forward and she moved back, until her back was pressed to the rough brick wall.
“You know you're not really going back in there, don't you, Marie?” Logan asked, placing his hands on the wall to either side of her face, trapping her.
Rogue's eyes, huge and dark, looked up at him. “I'm not?”
“No, you're going to be too busy for that,” Logan replied, his lips hovering over hers. Her scent changed slightly—not fear, arousal!
It was too much for the animal inside him howling MINE! NOW! This kiss was wilder, hotter than the one she'd given him earlier that day. That kiss had been all heat and excitement, it was true, but this was an inferno. Rogue stepped closer to him, twining her bare arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. His hands found the sweet curve of her ass, the smooth skin of her back. The little moans she made in the back of her throat drove him further until he was ready to push her skirt up right there, but thankfully he was able to latch onto a small piece of sanity and drag his lips from hers—by about a fraction of an inch.
“We are not doing this here, Marie,” he growled, although his hands, and other parts of him, told a different story.
“All right. We'll save that for another time,” Rogue said wickedly, sliding her hand down his chest to cup his erection through the denim of his jeans. “If you're sure you don't want to finish first.”
Logan groaned and pressed his cock against her briefly, reveling in and tortured by her hot, slender fingers. He dropped his arms, grabbed her hand once more, and hauled her toward his bike. This was going to be the longest six-minute drive of his life.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Marvel owns the X-Men. I'm just playing in their sandbox. No copyright infringement intended. Too bad they didn't decide to have the characters do this or I wouldn't have to write it. This isn't a songfic, but I got the general idea from the George Strait song "Wrapped."
Author's Chapter Notes:
After one kiss, Logan can't take it anymore!
Chapter End Notes:
If you object to actual sex scenes, you might want to stop with this chapter and just imagine what is about to come. (Pun intended!)