Logan clung desperately to sleep. He often dreamed about Marie, but never had it been so vivid. He could practically smell her luscious, enticing scent mixed with his, feel the soft curves of her body pressed against his own. He felt himself drifting inexorably toward consciousness and growled in annoyance. He wanted to stay right here...
He was almost fully awake now, and yet the soft Marie-scent was stronger than ever, the warm Marie-feel still snuggled up against him. He slowly opened his eyes, and his breath caught in his chest. Marie was lying right on top of him, her head resting on his chest, her legs tangled with his. He blinked, thinking for a moment that he must be hallucinating, but she was as real as could be — her heart thumping softly in rhythm with his, her breath tickling his neck.
He realized now that they were in her cabin, on the floor in front of the fireplace where they had eaten dinner just last night. Or was it last night? He searched his memory. He had left her that night, he was certain of it. He remembered trudging home, the snow turning to sleet, soaking him to the skin. And then...
What came next was a confused jumble of images, disjointed and dream-like. Marie's worried face, her breath frosty in the air. Falling in the snow. And then the strangest impression of himself as an Allied soldier, marching with the Fifth Army forward against the Bernhardt Line after a week of blizzards and zero visibility.
His head spun for a moment as a vivid image of the Apennine Mountains surfaced, dispersing into a gossamer mist as he tried to concentrate on it. What the hell — how did he even know that the Apennine mountains were in Italy? As far as he knew he'd never been farther than the 200 miles or so he had traveled from north of Ottawa, where he had broken out of the lab, to the Adirondacks. Not to mention — World War II? That was seventy years ago. He dismissed the disturbing thought. He must have seen some documentary about it in one of the motels he had holed up in on the fight circuit, and worked it into his dream.
He closed his eyes, trying to puzzle things out. Had he sleepwalked here? His nightmares were bad, but he'd never done anything like that. Not to mention you'd think that would have had Marie screaming, instead of cuddling up with him in front of the fireplace. He shifted slightly, realizing that he was naked under the thin blanket that covered his waist and legs. At the same time he realized that Marie's face — her bare skin — was nestled warmly against his bare chest, with absolutely no problems at all.
His body, already aroused by the feel and smell of Marie, hardened painfully further. He bit back a groan, trying not to wake her and trying not to disgrace himself. He let his arms come up to encircle her, another jolt of lust sizzling through him at the feel of her warm curves under whatever silky skintight garment she was wearing. He braced her up against him and then rolled, shifting her until she was beside him, relief warring with bitter disappointment as he lost the pressure of her soft curves against his hardened flesh.
He pulled back until he could see her clearly. She was dressed in some kind of silk thermal underwear, the thin layer clinging teasingly to every inch of her skin. A thick duvet lay bunched to the side, as if they had pulled it off of themselves during the night. Or day? From the angle of the sun through the windows it looked to be late afternoon. He pulled the corner of it over, easing his arm out from under her until her cheek rested on the blanket.
Unable to help himself he reached out, brushing his fingertips along her cheek, feeling the satiny skin. She was as beautiful in sleep as she was awake, her dark lashes thick against her creamy skin, her full lower lip pouting slightly in relaxation. Her skin wasn't active while she slept, he realized. He didn't think she knew that about her mutation, but in retrospect it made sense if her mutation was defensive.
He rested his head on his arm, gazing at her from inches away. She slept deeply, trustingly, so near to him. For a moment he let go of all his confusion and allowed himself to just enjoy this — breathing in her delicious scent, listening to the steady thump of her heart, watching her breasts rise and fall with every deep breath.
He felt his chest swell with an unfamiliar mix of emotions — lust and tenderness, possessiveness and longing. He wanted to crush her to him and devour her, and he wanted to cradle her gently, protecting her from the world. Instead, he just watched her, luxuriating in her nearness.
He knew the moment she started to wake — her temperature rising a scant degree or two, her breath quickening slightly. Her eyelashes fluttered as she sighed out a deep, soft, breath, and then her eyes snapped open.
"Logan!"
Before he knew it she was practically attacking him — yanking his arm from under his head to examine his fingers with her gloved hands, and then scrambling down to pull the blanket off his feet, her fingers tickling his toes and making him squirm.
He dazedly admired the stunning view of her delectable bottom, wondering what the hell she was up to.
"Marie?"
She turned back around, hovering over him on her hands and knees, searching his face. "You're okay! Are ya okay?" she asked frantically.
He propped himself up on his elbows. "'Course." He looked at her worried face, puzzled. "Are you?"
She rocked back on her heels. "Am I okay?" she breathed. "You...you..." Her eyes blazed. "You idiot!" Her hand flew out, thumping him hard on the shoulder and, unprepared, he landed flat on his back. He grunted. She was strong for such a little thing.
"What's up with you?" he grumbled.
In a flash she was straddling him, practically incandescent with rage. "What's up with me? With me!? You...you were dead! You were a fuckin' Wolverine popsicle! What in the hell were you thinkin', damn you?!"
Her voice was thick with angry tears, her molasses-drawl more pronounced than he had ever heard it before, and he was having trouble focusing on her words and not how goddamned sexy she was when she was angry.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Whaddaya mean?"
He saw some of her anger fade. "You really have no idea, do you?" she asked more quietly.
He shook his head.
"Logan, you went back to your place in the sleet and the cold and you just...lay down and died. Or near to it. If I hadn'ta found ya..."
He felt a slow, disquieting suspicion rising up from the back of his mind. "You came to get me?"
She nodded, subdued now. "I thought you were dead for real at first. All blue, and barely breathin'..."
He pushed himself back up on his elbows. "How did you find me?" He didn't like the idea of this. He didn't like the idea of this at all.
"The you in my head." Her eyes flared briefly with irritation again. "He's as much of a stubborn jackass as you are, but he finally gave me the route to your trailer."
"And you went out in that? Marie, you shouldnta risked yourself like that. I woulda been okay."
Her breathing quickened again, her thighs tightening against his hips. Uh oh, he was in for it. Sure enough, her hand lashed out again, shoving him very ungently backwards. "You ass! How dare ya tell me that I shouldn'ta come? I suppose I shoulda just sat here twiddlin' my thumbs for two more days, or two more weeks, or until whenever the hell the next thaw came around, worryin' and worryin' myself sick about ya..."
Something in his chest tightened. Her scent was thick with remembered fear and anxiety, her pulse racing even thinking back at it.
"You were...worried about me?" he repeated.
She looked at him, her eyes wide in disbelief, tears trembling on her lower lashes. "Of course I was worried about you! Worried enough to bully and drag your sorry ass through the snow for two hours, you thick-headed, numbskulled..."
That was as far as she got before he pulled her down on top of him, stopping her words with his mouth, devouring her gasp of surprise. His tongue invaded her mouth, seeking out the sweet taste of her, exploring gently for long moments until he felt the buzz start and they both pulled away, breathing hard.
Her hands were braced against his chest, her eyes wide with wonder, searching his.
"No one's ever worried 'bout me before," he mumbled sheepishly in explanation.
Her eyes blurred with tears again for a moment as her hand brushed tenderly over his face.
"Oh, Logan," she said, half on a sob. "What am I gonna do with ya, sugar?"
Sugar. Fuck, but he liked that. It did something to him, kindling a fire at the base of his belly, turning his voice into a breathy growl.
"Whatever you want to, darlin'. I'm yours."
Her eyes widened again briefly and then left his, traveling slowly down to his mouth. The gloved hand she had rested on his cheek traveled down as well, the thumb brushing his lower lip. He nipped at the pad of her thumb and she made a low noise, her hips rocking unconsciously against his.
That was all it took, and suddenly need overwhelmed them both. One of his hands was still tangled in the thick fall of her hair. The other skimmed down her side to settle at her hip, pushing her into his body as he drew her head back down to his.
He reined himself in with an effort, trying to keep the kiss gentle, struggling to keep the movement of his hands over her body slow and unhurried. The silk was barely a barrier at all, he could feel every inch of her warm skin through the sheer fabric. She growled a little in frustration, pressing herself fully against the rigid length of him, encouraging him shamelessly. He kissed down her neck, hiding his smile. She was a fierce little thing.
The buzz was taking longer and longer to kick in. He wondered absently if it was her becoming less cautious around him, or if something about his mutation was counteracting hers. Either way he thanked his lucky stars for it. It might take some practice to get things right, but for now for all the big deal she had made of her skin it was almost no impediment at all. And he was a creative guy, he realized. Even these barely-there silks...
He knew he couldn't have her fully, not yet. But right now the urge to possess her somehow — to put his mark on her, to show her she was his — was uncontrollable. She worried about me, he thought, the very idea unleashing something inside him — something hot and dark and needy. She came to find me. She wants me.
He tumbled them over, kicking the blanket away from between them and nestling more firmly between her legs.
"Jesus, Marie...ah, Christ..." He closed his eyes in ecstasy. The new position allowed him to press even closer against her as he set a deeper, stronger rhythm. She was making soft little noises of entreaty, urging him on, her gloved hands clutching the flexing muscles of his back to pull him even closer.
He was panting hard, wanting to lick and nip and taste her everywhere — nibbling on her ear, lapping at the fading mark he had left on her neck earlier.
"This...ah, fuck...this okay, darlin'?" he forced himself to ask through gritted teeth, unable to stop moving for even a second. Christ, he didn't know what he would do if she said no. He was half-mad with wanting, pressed so closely against her that he would be inside her if it wasn't for the silk.
"Yes...don't stop, please don't stop..."
He didn't think it was possible but those words spiked his lust even higher. Her gloved hands brushed up and down his back, trickling pleasure down his spine.
"Fuck, Marie..." He slid an arm underneath her back, arching her up towards him until he could suckle her breast, making her whimper with pleasure. "You feel so good...smell so good..." He realized he was talking more than he had in years, but he couldn't stop the words any more than he could stop the constant rough growls she pulled from him with every press of her body into his.
She was pushing up greedily now, her hips moving in strong counterpoint to his as she ground against him with abandon. She wrapped one long leg around his waist and they both cried out as it brought them even closer. He licked and sucked at her through the damp silk, savoring every urgent little moan and shiver he was able to elicit.
"That's it baby...just like that...so good. Oh, fuck..."
She was crying out every time he pushed against her now, her breath huffing in agitation, her body straining towards his.
"Logan, I can't...I need..."
He growled, deep and low. "I know, baby. I know." He suckled at her neck fiercely, as if trying to take the taste and scent of her into his own body. "C'mon, darlin'. Show me. Let yourself come."
He didn't know how but he knew just what to do. His hand slid between their straining bodies, finding just the right spot, pressing slow and sweet until she came apart underneath him. He watched, pride and possessiveness overwhelming him as she flushed, her breath drawing in on a surprised gasp as she shuddered and bucked against him.
Damn right, he thought. My Marie. Gonna make you come like this every day. Just for me. All for me. His mind was hazed with pleasure and need, more feral than not, as he buried his face in her neck. He had never felt anything so good in his life, never even imagined anything could feel as good as Marie coming hard underneath his body, gasping his name. Sweet Marie, soft Marie, my Marie... He thrust hard against her in rough movements until the pleasure steamrolled through him, almost unbearably intense.
He growled into her damp skin, spilling against her soft body in deep, shivering pulses, feeling her still shuddering against him. White hazed his vision as the pleasure cascaded through him for endless moments. Finally it subsided, satisfaction weighting his limbs as he barely stopped himself from collapsing on her. He rolled them quickly, still pushing shallowly against her as aftershocks of pleasure shook them both.
He felt her silky hair skim across his chest, screening her bare face and neck from his skin as she settled her boneless weight onto him. For a moment they both lay stunned and breathless.
Finally he heard Marie's voice, slurred and lazy, her accent honey-thick. "Holy. Fuckin'. Wow."
He rumbled his agreement, gently brushing a few tendrils of hair off her damp cheek.
He let his mind drift. He had never felt so good — warm and satisfied, every bone and muscle in his body liquid with pleasure. And Marie felt the same, he could smell in her scent the echo of all he was feeling — gratitude and tenderness and joy and satisfaction.
Finally she stirred against him. "I should get ya somethin' to eat. Ya must be starvin'."
His arms tightened around her. "Not really. I like you here."
She laughed softly. "I like it here too. But Logan...it's been three days since you were here for dinner. Did ya eat anythin' at all?"
He frowned. Three days? How could that be? He clearly remembered walking home that night, and then waking up here. He started to realize what she meant by saying he had been almost dead. He thought about being under the ice, for months. He hadn't sensed time passing then either.
"I guess my metabolism slows down or somethin' when I get that cold. I feel like it was yesterday that I was here. I'm not even hungry. I guess my mutation maybe...sends me into hibernation or somethin'."
She raised her head, her dark deep eyes gazing into his. "But Logan...why did you let it get that bad? Did ya not have the money for a generator or somethin'?"
He growled, his pride stung. "I've got a lot of money, Marie. More'n I can spend, at least. I just..." He sighed, avoiding her eyes. "I had planned to go south for the winter, catch the fight circuit down in Mexico, and then...and then I met you. And then I thought I could get a heater or somethin' but I just didn't expect the cold to come on so fast. It'd take a few days to go to town and get supplies for the winter, and I just...I just kept putting off leavin' you."
"Aw, sugar..." Her voice was thick with tears again.
"Don't, darlin'." He tried for a joke. "Don't get all teary just because I'm a...what did you call me?...thick-headed, numbskulled..."
"Hey," she interrupted teasingly. "You're my thick-headed, numbskulled jackass, right?"
His humor fled. He was dead serious now. "Yeah," he rasped. "If for some reason you want me, Marie...I'm yours."
She was serious too, her voice quiet as she nuzzled into his chest through the screen of her hair. "I want you, Logan." God, that did something good to him. Made him feel ten feet tall, and able to conquer the world.
He felt her arms tighten around him, bracing herself for an argument. "An' if you didn't wanna leave me before, that means that you're okay with stayin' here with me, right? Stayin' here at the cabin with me for the winter?"
He felt like he should argue, but damned if he could find the will to do so. There was nothing more he wanted on God's green earth than to stay right here with her for as long as she would have him.
"Guess so," he said.
She sighed in relief, and settled herself back down on his chest. He listened to her soft breathing, his heart filled to bursting with unaccustomed happiness.
My Marie. For as long as you'll have me.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Things got smuttier a little faster than I expected. The rating changes to M with this chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
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