Marie looked down at her nearly-full bowl of stew. She could feel her cheeks starting to heat with a blush. Could she blame it on the fire?
All day long, things had just been so...easy. When they finally managed to get up, they had taken turns showering, and made a late lunch of pancakes together. Then she had painted for awhile, while Logan read one of the books from the cabin’s library. Later she worked out while he found some more wood to chop.
The unseasonable cold snap had finally broken and the world was bright and white, the snow turning to slush as the temperature turned milder. He took his shirt off halfway through chopping, and she was hard-pressed to concentrate on her workout and not sneaking peeks out the window.
He even helped her cook dinner, chopping vegetables according to her instructions. When he wasn’t throwing extra meat into the stew at every opportunity, he was sneaking little kisses and touches from her, making her giggle and squirm.
He had already become so much a part of her daily routine, for the most part it was surprisingly seamless how he transitioned from Guy-Who-Popped-Out-of-the-Woods-at-Random-Intervals to Sudden-New-Roomie.
But then evening fell, and he got less playful and more quiet. And now he had finished eating and was sitting on the other end of the couch, just watching her intently, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. Her appetite was nonexistent, and her mouth was dry. She took a big gulp of water and then put the glass down. She saw his intent gaze shift to her lips. She put the bowl down on the table, taking a deep breath.
“I’m nervous,” she finally told him flat out.
His golden gaze shifted back to her eyes. “‘Bout what?”
She felt the blush creeping up her cheeks. “About everythin’. You. Me. What we did earlier...” She licked her lips nervously, sneaking a glance at him. His eyes were dark and focused on her. “And what we’re gonna do next.”
He had shaved earlier, and the firelight illuminated his newly-exposed cheekbones harshly, making his gentle voice even more incongruous in contrast.
“What do you want to do, darlin’?”
She looked down at her gloved hands. “That’s just it. I don’t know. All this time I thought that my skin meant...that I could never do anythin’. Or anythin’ much, at least. But it hardly seemed to bother you at all, and I don’t know what that means, or what you’re gonna expect...”
His big warm hands were suddenly enveloping hers, interrupting her babbling. He stroked her fingers briefly through her silk gloves before clasping her hands in his.
“C’mere,” he said, pulling, and she followed until she was in his arms, her head nestled on his chest.
“Breathe,” he said.
She took a deep breath, and let it out. And then another. The scent of him surrounded her — woods and tree sap and just Logan — and she felt the tension drain from her body. His hand stroked her hair, slowly and soothingly.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded, feeling foolish.
“We’re not gonna do anything you don’t want to do,” he rumbled. “Even if it’s just this. I’m not sayin’ that I don’t want you. That would be a damn lie. But I want anythin’ you can give me. Even if it’s just bein’ around you. Watchin’ you paint, or bein’ close to you like this. I don’t expect nothin’ more than that. Hell, even this is more than I ever dreamed I could have.”
She felt tears springing to her eyes, and blinked them away. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, trying to figure out what she wanted to say.
“You asked me if I wanted this — touch. An’ I do. I just...there’s a lot I haven’t done. An’ I wanna do it with you, but...I don’t think I can jump right in. An’ I’m still really scared of hurtin’ ya.”
She felt his chin move as he nodded. “You can always tell me, Marie. I’m no good at talkin’, you gotta tell me stuff. And tell me if I’m pushin’ you too far.”
She nodded.
They sat in silence for awhile, watching the fire, enjoying the closeness as his hand rubbed gentle circles on her back.
“How ‘bout we start here,” he eventually said. “Just...practice touchin’. Take off your gloves and touch my hand.”
She hesitated. “What if I hurt you?”
“I won’t let you. I feel it. Before the pain starts, there’s a warning. Like a...buzz. If I feel it I’ll pull away.”
She leaned back, looking at him in surprise. “Really? I...I didn’t know that.”
He nodded. “I had to feel it a few times before I figured it out. Maybe no one ever got that far.”
She thought of Bobby, and how terrified he had been to touch her after an accident. She had only absorbed him twice before that final time when he was thinking of Kitty, and each time was months apart. She could easily believe that he might have missed something like that.
“I guess so,” she said slowly. “So...you’ll pull away if you feel it?”
He nodded. “Promise.”
He settled her securely in his lap, her back resting up against his chest, his hands relaxed and open in her lap. She took a deep breath and pulled off her glove. She skimmed her fingertips along his palm. It was the first time she had really touched his skin — not just an accidental brush but a real touch. His skin was warm and slightly rough, but with no scars or calluses. His healing factor, she figured.
“Will you tell me — when you feel the buzz? Maybe I can start to feel it too.”
He rumbled an affirmative.
It took much longer than she would have guessed. She had almost forgotten to pay attention, entranced as she was by the feel of his warm skin and the elaborate pattern of lines and whorls on his palm and fingers.
“There it is,” he said, moving his hand just a breath away from her fingers.
“Oh,” she said, her brow furrowing. “It didn’t hurt?”
“Nah. Feels kinda good, actually. Kinda like a tickle.”
She smiled at the idea. “Can I try again?”
He settled his left arm around her, squeezing her tight before moving his hand back. “You can try all night if you want.”
She touched him again, skimming her thumb in a slow circle on his palm, trying to focus on more than just the wonder of feeling his skin. It seemed to take even longer that time. “There,” he said, moving his hand right as she said, “That’s it, isn’t it?”
She looked down at her fingertips in fascination. “I felt it that time.”
Even without seeing him, she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll tell you somethin’ else. It’s off when you’re sleepin’.”
Her heart lurched in surprise. She turned around on her knees, searching his face. “Really? Off? I didn’t think it was ever off.”
He nodded. “When I woke up you were restin’ right on my chest. Not a thing between us.” His voice turned gravelly. “Skin to skin.”
“Skin to skin,” she repeated wonderingly. “Even though I came out here, hopin’...” She felt her throat thicken with tears. “I don’t know that I ever really believed before now that it could be off.”
He cradled her cheek. “Maybe that’s part of it. Believin’.”
He kissed her, soft and swift, and then before she could even respond he was turning her back around, settling her back in his lap.
“This time see if you can stop it when it starts.”
“But if I can’t...”
“I won’t let you hurt me,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “The buzz lasts for at least a few seconds. I got pretty good at judgin’ it.” The teasing note in his voice didn’t entirely hide the soft growl underneath his words, his body subtly pressing up into hers in emphasis. “Or don’t you remember?”
She blushed. So that was how he had managed to kiss her so much while they were....
She had been a little too caught up in things at the time to really consider it. She had just trusted him not to get hurt. She had trusted him then, she realized, and she could trust him now. He wouldn’t let her hurt him. Not that he seemed concerned about his own safety, but because he didn’t want to shake her confidence.
She took a deep breath, and placed her hand in his. How safe and happy it made her feel, just to feel his palm against hers, to see her small pale hand in his big tan one. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling, until the funny little ghost of sensation started.
Just...make it stop, she thought to herself. Just...
She thought for a moment that she felt it...stutter...but as seconds ticked by she started to get anxious. “Logan...” she said, and he pulled away instantly.
Her pulse was racing. He smoothed his hand down her hair again. “That was good, baby.” His voice was quiet and confident. “Try again.”
She stared down at his hands for a moment. They were relaxed, open. Logan was so completely unfazed by her mutation. She thought of Bobby, and how freaked out he was when she even came close to slipping. His anxiety had only made her more worried, she realized — it had probably made things a million times worse.
She took a deep breath. She trusted Logan. She had nothing to fear.
She placed her palm flat against his. His fingers interlaced with hers, squeezing gently, reassuringly. After a few moments she felt the buzz start and just as it did, he leaned in and kissed her.
She murmured in surprise against his lips and then she was lost. His tongue gently explored her mouth, coaxing her response from her, setting a flame burning in her belly. He kissed her, deep and soft and sweet, until she felt her head spinning. He finally pulled away, his breath warm against her lips, giving her a final nip on her bottom lip.
“Gotcha,” he rumbled. He held up their hands, still interlaced. “Distractin’ you works too.”
It took her a second to process his words, and then her dazed mind finally comprehended them.
She squeezed his hand in hers. “You...scoundrel,” she said without heat, her mouth quirking.
The buzz started, and he released her hand gently. “I’ve been called a lotta things...” He raised one eyebrow.
She giggled and he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
“You better get to bed,” he finally said. “I do any more ‘distracting’ and I’m not gonna be able to let you go.”
She bit her lip, considering. “You could...sleep up there if you wanted. Share the bed with me. I mean, if you thought it would be okay.”
He made a low, rough noise in the back of his throat, his body reflexively bucking up into her again. “Darlin’, if I came up there neither of us would be sleepin’.” He kissed her gently. “Besides, it’s not safe.”
She felt herself flush as she pushed herself to her feet. “Oh. Of course. I’m sorry about earlier, I thought I was covered up enough...”
She didn’t even see him move but suddenly she was back in his lap, her knees landing on each side of his hips as his arms tightened around her.
“That’s not what I meant, darlin’," he growled. "How many times do I hafta tell you, I’m not scared of you.” She felt his fingers flex against her as his words grew halting. “It’s...I get these... nightmares. And sometimes the claws come out, whether I want them to or not. I don’t want you anywhere near me if somethin’ like that happens.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that at all. Silly of her.
“Can...” she blurted out before she stopped herself abruptly.
She castigated herself mentally. Why didn’t she think before she opened her mouth?
“What, baby?” he prompted.
She ducked her head. “Nah, it’s stupid of me to ask. Just forget about it.” She tried to pull free of his arms, but his grip was immovable.
“Nuh uh. None of that. You gotta tell me things, remember?”
She closed her eyes, angry at herself. “I just...I was gonna ask if I could see ‘em, but I forgot for a second — it hurts you, when they come out, and I don’t wanna...oh.”
Just like that he had held out his hand, the claws gliding out to their full length with a metallic hiss. The firelight gleamed and danced on the shiny metal.
“Oh,” she said again, fascinated.
They should be fearsome — after all, she had seen them in action — and yet she could not find even a shred of apprehension within herself. She looked in his eyes. He seemed to be waiting for something, a shadow of uneasiness flickering behind his impassive expression.
Slowly, giving him enough time to pull away if he wanted, she reached out. She touched a finger to the blunt edge of one claw at the very tip, tracing it slowly down to his knuckle where the blade grew thicker. He groaned, and her eyes widened.
“Do...do ya feel that?”
His eyes were closed now, his jaw taut with tension. “Fuck, Marie...do it again.”
There was a strange note in his voice -- arousal, definitely, but something else. She felt something drift up from the recesses of her mind. Not so much a specific memory, more of a sense of his thoughts and emotions, an echo of feeling from somewhere deep inside her. She heard her own voice, as if in a dream, as she traced her fingers up and down his claws.
“You were ashamed of these, weren’t ya? Didn’t like what they meant, what they made you. Kept ‘em outta sight, wishin’ them gone. Feelin’ like they made you a freak. But you were wrong, Logan. They’re beautiful. So beautiful. They’re part of you. Natural.”
He was panting now, growling roughly on each exhale. “Marie...Jesus, baby...please...”
She reached for his belt buckle, some distant part of her mind shocked at her boldness. She opened his jeans and he sprang into her silk-gloved hand, hot and hard and ready. She encircled him firmly and he made a choked noise, something between a growl and a whimper.
Her ungloved hand returned to trace up and down his claws, while her gloved hand set a similar pace, stroking his rigid length.
He was growling almost incessantly now, his eyes closing for a few moments in ecstasy and then snapping back open, avidly drinking in the sight of her hands on him. His other hand clenched hard on the back of the leather sofa, knuckles white with strain.
She could tell he was trying to restrain himself, but still his hips pushed up into her hand, seekingly. She quickened her pace, watching him. The flickering firelight lit the rugged angles of his face, his amber eyes glowing as he watched her. There was something in his expression — a vulnerability she had never seen before.
“You’re beautiful,” she breathed again. “Every part of ya.” Without thought she leaned in closer, her tongue flicking out to where the claws emerged from the skin, lapping gently.
“Arrghhh...fuck...Marie....I can’t...” He threw his head back, tendons standing out in his neck. His hips bucked uncontrollably into her hand and then he was coming hard with a soft roar, his body twisting and writhing underneath her thighs as her hand worked him gently. He shuddered and gasped, the claws of his other hand springing free reflexively.
She watched him, fascinated and a little proud. She had done this to him — made this strong, stoic man lose control, made him groan and quake. Her touch did this to him. Finally he subsided, panting hard, his golden gaze sleepy and satiated.
She smiled and snuggled up into him, giving him a final loving stroke that made him shiver.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Marie,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “You tryin’ to kill me?”
She laughed into his shirt, nuzzling up into him.
He retracted the claws slowly, wrapping his arms tight around her, rocking her side to side. “Marie...I...” He seemed to get stuck for the words. She felt him take in a deep breath and then let it out. “Thank you, darlin’” he finally said.
She hid her face, suddenly bashful now that the heat of the moment had passed. “I liked it,” she offered shyly.
His hand traced a slow circle on her belly.
“Do you want me to...?” he rumbled, tracing his hand a little lower.
She shook her head. “Is that okay? I just wanna stay like this for a little while.”
His hand moved back up, gently stroking her waist. “Whatever you want, darlin’.”
She pulled off her sticky glove, blushing a little, and he undid a few buttons of his flannel shirt, pulling it over his head and helping her clean up a little. He pulled his belt free, dropping it on the floor, and buttoned his jeans back up. She snuggled back against his chest, her cheek against his sleeveless undershirt while his warm bare arms encircled her.
She relaxed into him, letting her mind drift. It had been such a new experience for her — taking the lead like she had. She had always been scared to do that with Bobby, not wanting to presume. And the way Logan just talked to her, directly — telling her how he felt, asking her what she wanted. There was no hinting with him, no game playing. Just...honesty. She liked that a lot. She liked him a lot.
She felt warm and safe and happy. She listened to the steady thump of his heart, lulled by the rise and fall of his steady breathing. Then suddenly she was floating. She opened her eyes reluctantly. He was carrying her up the stairs.
She must have made some noise. He looked down at her, his face soft with an expression she had never seen before. He kissed her on the forehead. “Hush, darlin’. Go back to sleep.”
She closed her eyes again, letting herself linger on the edge of sleep. She felt him setting her down on the bed. His hands were gentle at her waist as he unfastened her jeans. She couldn’t even find the energy to be shy as she lifted her hips, helping him pull them free. Then he was covering her with the soft duvet.
“‘Night” he rumbled softly.
She snuggled into her pillow. “I wish you could stay,” she mumbled plaintively.
He smoothed a hand over her hair and kissed her cheek.
“Me too, darlin’.” She waited for his heavy footfalls, but instead the mattress dipped precipitously as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Go to sleep, baby,” he said again. She wanted to stay awake but felt herself drifting away, sliding into sleep as Logan watched over her.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
An extra-long chapter. I swear I had no idea it was heading in this direction. They were just supposed to go to sleep, and then all of a sudden it got a smutty. And maybe a little bit weird. Oh well. Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D