“Marie?”
Dusk had fallen, and even with his keen night vision she was just a dim shadow, hovering inside the doorway as if ready to take flight at any moment.
She took a step forward into the light but turned her head aside, her hair falling in a curtain across her face. He realized she was blushing, and that he was standing stark naked before her.
“Christ...just gimme a minute,” he mumbled, turning his back and pulling his jeans from the floor, the belt still through the loops from when he had carelessly shed his clothes and fallen exhausted into his bed.
“You okay, darlin’?” he threw over his shoulder as he hastily pulled a shirt on.
Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear it. “Yeah. I just...I had a nightmare.”
He froze, the half-undone button in his suddenly numb fingers. “One of mine?”
Her silence was answer enough.
“Shit,” he said, finishing the buttons and yanking the gloves on. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I didn’t want you to...”
“You’re sorry?” Her sharp voice interrupted him, catching him by surprise. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her movements stiff and jerky as she moved to the window, pushing aside the curtain and staring out with unseeing eyes.
“You told me...” she started, her voice growing raspy. She took a deep breath and started again. “You even told me what they did to you, and I didn’t understand. I was so stupid. I didn’t know...that you were awake, that you felt it.”
He moved toward her slowly, still uncertain of her mood. “I didn’t want you to know, baby. I still wish you didn’t have to think about that shit...”
He reached a hand toward her, but she ducked away, her eyes bright with anger or tears, or both -- he didn’t know. “You’re worried about me having to think about that? When you lived it? Jesus, no wonder what Freddy did to you hardly bothered you. He was just an amateur, wasn’t he? And you’ve been tortured by the best...”
He sensed the rise of the hysteria within her, and this time he did not let her pull away. His grasp on her was firm as he gathered her up against him, letting her brief struggle subside until she was clinging to him, her face pressed hard into the flannel of his shirt.
After a moment he scooped her up, sitting on the bed and settling her in his lap. He leaned back against the headboard, soothing and hushing her, listening to her heart rate finally settle, her breathing slow.
He felt her shake her head against him. “I don’t know how you can be like this...like it doesn’t even matter what they did to you. Like you don’t even feel it.”
He sighed. She was so young, so raw, for all that she pretended to be hard and jaded. He didn’t know how to explain it to her. “It does matter. But remember what I told you? It fades, darlin’. The nightmares are a bitch, and it tears me up inside to know that you got ‘em. But it all happened a long time ago.”
They sat in silence for awhile. He found himself enjoying the soft, sleepy weight of her in his lap as some of her tension eased. Her warm soft scent surrounded him, and he had to still the movement of his hands, realizing that his motions had absently turned from soothing to caressing.
“I...I didn’t know where your room was,” she finally said. “But I found you. I...I followed the way you smell. I didn’t know I could do that.”
He smothered a smile at her bemused tone. “I guess that’s somethin’ else you got from me...at least for a little while, Hank thinks.”
She nodded. “Everything smells...so much. And the sounds are so loud, and I just want to get away from it all, to get outside and run...is it always like that? Or do you get used to it?”
He considered the question seriously. “I don’t really know. I guess I’ve never known any different. But I do get restless a lot. Need to get outdoors, or fight, or...”
Fuck, his mind filled in, the thought of it making the soft weight of her in his lap suddenly, acutely painful. He gritted his teeth, trying to distract himself from the gnawing ache of arousal. It was delicious torment having her so close, knowing he had claimed her, even if she didn’t know it yet...
“Do you remember what happened, darlin’?” he finally asked, desperate to know but uncertain what he wanted the answer to be. “With Lehnsherr, and...after that, in the containment room?”
She nodded, and he felt her face heat again as she wiggled, discomfited. He bit back a groan, subtly shifting her off his lap so he wouldn’t embarrass her further.
“I...it’s kind of weird, and hazy, but I remember how I felt...the emotions were really strong. And I remember...”
Her voice trailed off, but her hand drifted unconsciously to her neck where he had bitten her, and he couldn’t suppress the low growl that rose up in his chest at the memory.
She drew back to look at him, startled. He saw her nostrils flare as she took in the change in his scent. “Oh,” she said. A wealth of emotion flickered through her eyes -- realization, longing, a hint of fear, and then something shifted. He practically felt the wall come up in between them again, her eyes growing distant as she retreated into herself.
“Oh,” she said again, her voice flat and matter-of fact. “Here. Let me...” she said, and suddenly her small gloved hands were at his fly.
The rush of arousal shamed him. Some part of him wanted to allow this, wanted to take her sham intimacy and pretend that it was real. He wanted to press her small hands against his body, and that made his actions rougher than he intended as he pushed her away.
“Marie -- what do you think you’re doin’?” He struggled to keep his voice calm.
She grew very still, her face in shadow. “I thought you wanted...” She stopped.
He flexed his fists, frustration rasping in his voice. “Goddammit it...that’s not what I want from you.” He tried to tamp down on his anger and disappointment. She didn’t understand how it was between them. What the hell had he expected her to think, bringing her into his bed, knowing she could scent his arousal?
“Why not?” Her voice was clear and sharp. “I’ve seen some of your memories. You don’t have a problem with...casual sex. So why not me?” Her voice trembled slightly. “What’s wrong with me?”
He pushed to his feet -- his pulse pounding in his ears, his body hot and heavy with lust and anger, her words repeating in his head. I’ve seen your memories... How much had she seen? What did she know?
“Is it my skin? I can wear the collar...”
The thought of it made something snap inside him. “Christ, Marie -- how can you think that for even a second?” He sat down next to her again, his gloved hand winding through her hair, willing her eyes to meet his, trying to break through that damn distance she had put between them.
“Marie...listen to me, darlin’.” He struggled to find the words. “I don’t give a damn about your skin. If somethin’ happens between us...” He stopped, and his voice was a low growl when he started again. “When somethin’ happens between us, it’s not gonna be like this. Not out of gratitude, or loneliness, or whatever the hell else you think you’re offerin’ me right now.”
He took another deep breath, the scent of her making his head spin. “Jesus Christ, Marie. Casual sex? That’s not what I want from you.”
He felt her sudden stillness under his hand, saw the fear flash through her eyes as the detachment slipped, her warm scent tinged now with bitterness and despair. Her voice was bleak when she spoke. “This is all I have to give.”
A chill went through him at the certainty in her voice. He could not smell a lie on her. Her face was shuttered and distant -- the guarded, thorny Marie he had first met.
He pulled her into his arms, pressing his body against her, nuzzling his face into her hair, trying in the only way he knew how to break through to her. “I don’t believe that, baby. You’re not ready now, but I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”
She pulled away, backing toward the door, an edge of panic in her wide eyes. She shook her head. “That’s...don’t say that. I’m leaving. You can’t...nobody wants me like that.”
He felt the Wolverine trying to surge free at the thought of her leaving him but he bit back hard on the snarl, keeping his distance, knowing he was probably pushing her too much already.
“You’re wrong.” He clenched his fists, trying to calm his voice. “I know it takes gettin’ used to, kid, but if you remember what happened in the containment room, you know it too. I do. I want you like that.”
Her hand was on the doorknob now, her head still shaking. “You can’t. I...I don’t want it.”
He flinched, the animal inside him whimpering at the rejection. “I’ll wait,” he said again, his voice grim.
Her panic spiked. He had pushed too much, too soon, and he cursed himself as he saw her retreat further, her fear lessening as she straightened, her face closed off from him, her eyes empty. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”
He felt something twist in his chest. “Marie...don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t shut down like that.” He couldn’t help himself, he reached out for her again. She slipped out the door, closing it behind her.
He stood, his hand on the knob, wanting more than anything to chase after her, but knowing it would only make things worse. He forced his hand to release the doorknob and sat back on the bed, running a tired hand over his face as the Wolverine whined and howled in his head.
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Chapter End Notes:
Sorry guys! I love some good Rogan smut and I'm trying to get them there, but it had to happen this way for now. Feel free to yell at me in the reviews if you like. ;-)