The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Just a reminder, this one isn't for kiddies. And yes, Marie is underage so ... potential squick for some.
The smooth click of the lock resounded through her head like a gunshot. Marie stood at the door, hand still on the latch, shaking a little as she contemplated her own daring. She may as well have used a loudspeaker, or hired a marching band. “MARIE D’ANCANTO. NOW DEPARTING NORMAL.”
Something had been itching her inside lately, making her rash and impulsive, but this? This was turning her back on the sweet little life she had built, and stepping out into the great fucking unknown. Goodbye, sweet Rogue; hello again, fucked up Marie.
Seven months, she had lasted. Seven months of tremulous smiles and “yes, sir’s” and that shy little giggle that she had come to hate. Seven months of “oh, Logan, he’s like my brother, or maybe my favourite uncle.” So fucking convincing, that Rogue – even Marie had begun to believe her.
And now, what had she done? Gone and called him on it, that’s what. It was a sly game of evasion they played: I’ll pretend you don’t want me if you’ll pretend I’m just a little girl. We’ll both pretend to be safe, and normal, and tame enough to be good little X-men. Their own little devil’s bargain, torturing them a little more each day.
“I can’t do it anymore,” she moaned. “It hurts too much.”
His grunt of concern startled her back to the moment. The locked door. The man in the corner of her room, struggling to do the right thing. Marie forced herself to breathe, hanging over an abyss. Cut him free of his honour, or truss him tight with lies?
But how could you keep the truth from a man who swore lies left a stink in the air? A man who knew when you were bleeding, and could smell you wanting? Tell you were beyond that, caught so deep in your desperation for touch, and him, and his touch, that you spent entire nights writhing in that bed, reaching for a peak that never came. Agony. Her personal brand of sharp, hot, slicing, desperation.
The command came from that place. “Tell me.”
She thought he would ignore her. Pretend he hadn't heard. Growl at her to open the door, and stomp out. A transgression of their carefully maintained boundaries. A sin against the order of things here at the Mansion.
Instead, he sighed, and folded his long body back into the chair with what might have been weary resignation. Marie steeled her nerves to look at him, needing to know whether or not he would hate her for this. He was sinking fast into the shadows as the summer twilight abandoned her room, but she could still make out the line of his lip, and the furrows on his forehead. His eyes, though, were warm and forgiving. And something in them spoke of relief, and release.
She was surprised, for a moment, and then she remembered. She had become used to the other man. The one they called Wolverine. But just like the Rogue, he was a chimera built by a million false assumptions and ill-considered expectations.
Tonight, she was with Logan.
*
“What do want to hear? I’ve got some pretty damn detailed fantasies, Marie. Or do you want to hear just how I would touch you? Oh, darlin’, I’ve been there a million times.” His voice was rough with want, she realized. She hadn’t been the only one crucified by this charade. It also held a cynical edge she hadn’t heard since that first day in the camper. After Liberty Island, he had spoken to her the way you would a scared kitten; after Alcatraz, she’d been upgraded to amusing protégé.
Now, he was treating her like any other woman. Impersonal, perhaps, but there was heat in his voice and dark intent in his eyes. It made her brave.
“Either, sugar. Both. But let’s start with the here and now.” She crossed back to the bed, no longer shaking, and stretched out full length on her back. Their eyes clashed briefly in the shadow of the room before he raised a brow and conspicuously examined all she had put on display: breasts, waist, an endless length of legs. The room heated as the showy leer softened into honest appreciation. Wolverine rarely allowed himself the time to look at her, Marie realized, just as Rogue was careful not to try and entice him. “Where would you touch me, Logan?”
She felt his gaze return to her face, as if his fingers were ghosting there. This time, his tone was warmer, soothing her frazzled nerves.
“I’d start there, right beside your mouth. That spot. I want to taste it.” His finger was touching his cheek, smoothing the place where she knew her dimple hid. Her own hand rose to echo the gesture, and the dimple peeked into life with her pleasure. Logan smiled with pure delight, until his brows swooped together and sensuality took over once again.
“Then the corner of your mouth. Your lips always look so fucking good Marie. Like they’d taste like some of those red berries from the forest. Sweet and juicy and just fucking edible. I’d be there a while, just sucking and licking and tasting that mouth of yours.”
He paused to drag in a breath. She felt the need to say something, but his words had made it impossible to think. Saw him scent the air through flared nostrils and realized nothing she had to say mattered, right now. Her body was telling tales of its own.
“I love the spot under a woman’s chin, and any other girl I might try and warm ‘em up with a nibble on the earlobe or something. But you, Marie,” his voice thickened, ground to a halt. He shifted in his chair, and hid his face in the shadows.
“With you, I’d be too fired up to bother, the first time. I reckon, two and a half seconds after kissing you for the first time, I’d have my hands on your titties, and one of your nipples in my fucking mouth.” He was disgusted with himself, yes, but she could hear something else as well. Excitement.
There was no decision to push him, purely an irresistible reaction. Her hands, drifting from her mouth, to her nipples. A gentle brush that could have been accidental. A second flick, with her thumbs. Most definitely not.
She heard his breath catch, this time.
“Little red nipples, I think you’d have. Dark red. Bet they’d taste good too. Love to feel em soft and flick em with my tongue til they ain’t soft no more.” He sat forward in the chair, eyes riveted to her thumbs as they flicked, backwards and forwards, backwards, forwards. “O yeah, baby, just like that. Standing up like stones for me. And when they’re so hard you’re friggin hurtin’ with it, few little nips with my teeth. Then I’d suck so hard you’d feel it right down inside. A woman like you, nipples are just like your clit. Better, for some. Bet you could come, just from me sucking and flicking and fucking your tits with my tongue.” His voice was fierce. Exultant.
It wasn’t a bet she’d take, Marie thought dazedly. They ached now, and her t-shirt and bra felt like a straitjacket, nipples drilling through as if desperate to find their way to Logan. She knew how they felt. Just the timbre of his voice had her skin aflame, and the thought of him touching her … the thought of him wanting to touch her … she was close. “So fucking close …”
His gravelly laugh reverberated through her, making her realize she had spoken aloud. Making her realize, too, that she had unlocked Pandora’s box, and they were hurtling towards the point where it would become impossible to lock themselves away again. She hesitated a moment, wondering if it was worth it. Then she looked at him, eyes glowing as he strained forward in the chair on the other side of the room. Unrepentantly hungry, his chest swelling as he dragged in breath after breath of sex-laden scent.
She launched herself into the abyss. “Make me come, sugar. Tell me how.”
********
Chapter End Notes:
Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to feel appreciated :D I love it when people question my thought processes and motivations - it makes me think more deeply about what I'm writing and also fires off a million more plot bunnies.