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Story Notes:
I realised as I was writing this wip that I have Kayla-issues. Oops
Also as a warning, this wip gets fairly rough-speaking. Wolverine is such an antidote to the wip I'm currently writing for one of my pubs, lmao
Author's Chapter Notes:
Chapter 2 is almost done for this wip - It's my reward for writing my other wips :D
All spelling mistakes - British and otherwise--are all my own
And to point out that I own nothing of the X-Men or Logan. Which is a pity. Especially the not owning Logan part... *sigh*
He was watching her again, hazel eyes slitted to a golden gleam.

They were alone. She'd escaped into the grounds with a book, wanting the pretence of quiet time away from the madness of a mansion full of children. In truth, she was hiding. From Logan. But it was a mistake. She should've stayed with the crowd. The protecting herd.

Long rays of evening sunlight cut across the grass and bathed her bench, warming her exposed skin. Another mistake. The cure had worked for her. Her skin was safe and her head silent. The warmth of late May let her wear a short sundress, no shoes and legs and arms deliciously bared.

Skin that now prickled under the dark heat of Logan's gaze.

Her fingers tightened around the cover of her book and she read the first line for the fourth time in ten minutes. The time Logan had taken to stalk across the open lawn.

Marie remembered to breathe. His easy, animal grace had always been a joy to watch. Her secret thrill. But she would only ever be his friend, a skinny, starving kid he'd rescued. Nothing more. So she never pushed her attraction. She'd always wondered whether he thought, with the way her body went into overdrive around him, if she was asthmatic...and tachycardic.

Her book still wasn't making any sense. And she didn't have to look up to feel Logan's intense focus. He'd been watching her all day. The first hour she'd tried to laugh it off, slip into the easy friendship they'd shared before he pulled one of his disappearing acts and vanished into the frozen north.

It hadn't worked. Logan had growled at her, something low, dark and disturbing, his eyes flaring to a sharp gold. The sound raised the hairs on her arms and for the first time since she'd met him, she felt like prey.

From that moment on, she avoided him. Or she'd tried to. He was following her. Tracking her. It was these times she missed the men in her head. The Logan who'd lived there would know what the hell his flesh counterpart was playing at.

That would be when he wasn't grousing about needing his hit of nicotine or a slug of beer. A smirk pulled at her mouth and she made the mistake of looking up from her book. Logan had moved closer. He was there, leaning against one of the oaks that formed a ring to the rear of the mansion. No more than five feet away from her bench.

Sunlight cut across him, gleamed against the brown skin of his muscled arm and threw shadow over the rest of him, defining the perfection of his stomach and chest. Marie was still convinced he had his t-shirts sprayed on. Her gaze dropped almost involuntarily. That went for his jeans too.

Guilty at ogling Logan again, her gaze flicked back up to his face. His intense stare gripped her and she felt every inch of her bared skin respond to him. Her heart thudded and in the late spring heat it was suddenly hard to breathe. Yes, definitely asthmatic.

Marie swallowed, her throat tight, her mouth dry. Before he went north, little more than a month before, Logan had been his usual self. Moody, sure. Growling if someone interrupted his game, or God forbid, tried to take away his command of the remote; definitely. But he'd laughed. He hung out with Doctor McCoy. With Kurt. With her. He'd been more...

Fuck. Marie fixed her gaze on her book and read the first line for the fifth time, not wanting to process her last thought. The tight knot in her gut twisted. Logan had been more like a man. Whoever had come back from Canada this time wasn't.

The Professor or Jean would've tranked and dragged Logan down to the lower levels. Secured him and worked on who this stranger was. Marie closed her eyes and ignored the old pain. But they were gone and the school no longer housed strong telepaths.

Remy was an empath. Marie bit at the inside of her cheek. He and Logan...something had changed there too. Logan had grabbed Remy by the throat and held him up against the wall no more than an hour before. The distinctive slow slide of his claws cutting though his skin had silenced the demands of the suddenly gathered crowd in the cafeteria.

The gleaming tips of his claws had grazed Remy's eyelids. Not enough to break skin, but enough to scare the hell out of everyone else. The blades retracted and Logan leaned forward to whisper...something. What, no one knew. But Remy had blanched.

Marie closed her eyes, trying to push the awareness of the watching Logan from her thoughts. No, Remy wouldn't help. As she'd heard him mutter as he staggered away, he wouldn't piss on Logan if he were on fire.

So that left her. It always did. Logan was as much her responsibility as she was his. Or that's the way she saw it.

Marie closed her book and pushed herself to her feet. The warm brush of the grass against her bare toes skittered awareness up through her body. Even a year on, the sensation of touch could surprise her. She straightened her spine and met Logan's gaze. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Good, her voice was calm, sure and didn't reflect the nervous twist of her stomach.

Logan's nostrils flared. His damn senses. No doubt he could smell her uncertainty just fine.

"Well?"

"You stink of him." His words came out on a low growl and anger flared in his golden eyes. "You don't like washing him off?"

Marie blinked and her cheeks reddened. Damn it, when was the last time she blushed? Was he talking about Remy? And the unexpected, but wanted, kiss they'd shared that morning? "You saying I smell, Logan?" She grabbed her courage and took a single step towards him. "Not a nice thing to say to a friend."

"I'm not your friend."

That hit her harder in the stomach than his adamantium-lined fist. "You're..." No other words would come out. Was that what he was doing here? Breaking ties? Would he vanish again...and never come back to the school? To her?

He pushed himself away from the tree and Marie swayed, back from him, towards him, she wan't quite sure. "Logan?"

"You fucked him yet?"

"What?"

He closed the short distance between them, towering over her, his face harsh in the sunlight. The hard gleam in his eyes turned her heart over. "Gambit." He said Remy's codename like a curse. "You fucked him?"

"That is none--"

Logan's hot hand was in her panties. How he moved so fast, she didn't know. But the skirt of her dress was up, his thick palm pressed against her mons... And, dear God, his fingers...

All too quickly he pulled free. Shaking, Marie pushed at her crumpled dress, not sure that it hadn't been some bizarre fantasy...until Logan sucked on his glistening fingers. She blushed again and anger cut through the quick pain and her insane shot of arousal. "What the fuck to you think you're doing!"

"Can't taste him." A dark smile pulled at his lips and she hated the way her heart turned over. "Can't taste anyone but you. And fuck, you're tight." His wet fingers stroked across her bottom lip. His smile deepened. "I tasted blood, Marie. I break something?"

"Fuck you." She turned on her heel and strode away. Yes, she'd been cured for a year, but that hadn't meant she'd slept with any and everyone. Her skin was insanely sensitive..and well, there was how she felt about Logan.

Her belly tightened, her body still hot and aching from the feel of his skin, his palm, his fingers pushing, thrusting into a place even she hadn't touched.

Remy had been an interest of the last few weeks. With Logan away... Shit, now she felt like she was betraying him. One kiss. Her first real one. One that didn't leave the man twitching at her feet. And she would not feel guilty about that. It had been...nice.

"You don't walk away from me."

Logan grabbed her arm and yanked her back to him.The heat of his skin against hers forced a shocked gasp from her. People didn't just...touch her. The hesitancy was still too ingrained, in them and in her. "Why do you stink of him?"

Marie glared up at Logan. Whatever the hell was going on with him, it had nothing to do with her sex life, or lack of it. She still couldn't quite believe he'd stuck his hand where he had. "I kissed him. He didn't go into a coma. It was all good."

"You kissed him?"

There was that low growling again, the one that ran a shiver under her skin. "It's allowed."

He lifted an eyebrow and Marie knew she'd said exactly the wrong thing. A smile twitched at his mouth. "Is it?" He barrelled her back until her spine hit the rough bark of a tree. Breath burst from her, but she could only stare up at him as his thick palm cupped her jaw. "Well, then, that makes it my turn, doesn't it, darlin'?"
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