“Watcha readin’?”
She thumped his feet and he lifted them distractedly. She sat down on the other side of the couch, pulling his legs back down over her lap. She immediately started to run her hand up and down his calf over his jeans. He wondered if she even knew that she was doing it. She couldn’t be near him without touching him somehow. He loved that.
“Book on engines,” he said.
“You only read nonfiction, huh?”
He reached the end of the section and rested the book on his chest, considering. “I guess...I feel like I don’t know much. I mean, even the stuff I know I don’t know I know. Like fixin’ engines...I fixed up my bike, but I had no idea what all the parts were called when I was doin’ it. Readin’ this...now I have the words for it. I guess I feel like I got a lot of catchin’ up to do.”
Her eyes were understanding, but it still made him feel a little ashamed. She was so smart, and he was starting from scratch.
“Done paintin’?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Yep.” She drummed her hands on his legs, looking entirely too innocent. He narrowed his eyes.
She was wearing only one glove. He smothered his smile, his heart picking up speed. How in the hell did he ever get so lucky?
He put the book down on the rug.
“Wanna practice?” he asked.
She smiled, warm and wide. “Sugar...I thought you’d never ask.”
__________________________
The warmer weather only lasted for a week before the temperature dropped again. Despite Logan’s grumbling, Marie had put a warm men’s jacket and gloves on her shopping list. She half expected a call on the sat phone shortly afterwards, but either Samuel wasn’t reporting her purchases to Xavier, or Charles had decided to leave things well enough alone.
Either way, she was grateful for their discretion. Even though Logan was helping her gain control over her skin in leaps and bounds, she still welcomed the isolation of the cabin. She wasn’t ready to share him with the world yet, and she knew he felt the same.
When the snow started to fall again, Logan dragged her away from her painting to walk through the downy flakes. The world was so bright and crisp, the snow falling so fast that when she lifted her face to the sky she felt as if she were inside of a snow-globe, the dense whirl of fluffy snowflakes too pretty to be real.
They had taken several walks like this, and each time she saw the woods anew through Logan’s eyes. All the little signs of life she had never noticed before — the animal tracks and markings, little burrows hidden away where she never would have noticed — were suddenly apparent with his sharp predator’s eyes seeking them out to show her.
They walked, hand in gloved hand. As they watched the brown scrubby woods slowly becoming blanketed in snow, Logan haltingly told her about her book of poems that he had found by the lake, and kept. How he had kept the book under his pillow, treasuring the scent of her on its pages. And how one poem in particular had spoken to him — describing a moment just like this.
He told her how he had dreaded winter — the cold emptiness of it a mirror for the cold emptiness inside him.
She listened quietly, squeezing his big hand in hers.
“It’s not like that anymore, Marie,” he finally said. He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly in a cloud of frosty air. “I’m not like that anymore.” His amber eyes were honest and vulnerable as they looked into hers. “That’s all you, darlin’.”
When he kissed her, the snow falling soft and thick all around and over them, his lips were shockingly warm against her cold face.
___________________
“Ah...fuck, Marie...Jesus, darlin’...”
She was killing him, honestly killing him. For as long as he lived he would never forget the way she looked right now, kneeling between his spread legs, the firelight glinting off her auburn-and-platinum hair.
“Shhhh, sugar...” she drawled, giving him another long, languid lick. Her dark eyes were bright with mischief, her pouty lips curving into a smile just before she leaned in again, taking him deep in her mouth.
He clenched the sofa so hard he was sure he would see fingermarks in the leather when he let go. She was teasing him mercilessly, the little minx, deliberately letting the buzz of her mutation stop and start, stop and start.
“Baby, please...” He didn’t care that he was pathetic, begging.
Her soft little hands were driving him mad — stroking his tense belly, wandering up his chest, fingernails scraping gently up his inner thigh. She had abandoned the single glove days ago, confident now in her ability to control her mutation as long as she was the one doing the touching. A little too damn confident, he thought as she once again took him deep, the sensation of her hot little mouth pure bliss, the extra kick as the buzz started again making him see stars...
A strangled moan escaped him and she pulled back, one of her errant hands wandering down to stroke him lazily, keeping him burning, holding him at the edge. Those luscious lips curved into another smile as she turned the buzz on again, and then stopped it.
“You can’t tell me you don’t like it, sugar,” she drawled, her hot breath against his damp skin making him whimper again. “Not when I’m feelin’ what you’re feelin’.”
The idea of it made him twitch and swell impossibly in her hand. He knew sometimes she got a sense of what he was feeling from the buzz. And, god, he could smell it on her now — how hot she was, how ready, just from feeling secondhand what she was doing to him.
He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of feelings, as she started the buzz again. He couldn’t hide anything from her, she knew just what he wanted, just what he liked. He was hers, entirely, unreservedly. And he loved it.
She must have caught that thought, a possessive little growl from her joining the incredible combination of sensations as she rewarded him with a slow, deep suck, her tongue swirling around him, making him shiver.
She held him helpless, keeping him at the brink.
“Please, baby...” he growled again. He knew she loved it when he talked, when she could push him so far that his usually laconic demeanor was swept away by his overpowering need. And he gave it to her every time, couldn’t help the desperate words that fell from his lips.
“C’mon, baby...oh, fuck...darlin’, please...”
Finally she relented. With a sweet hum of compliance she gave him what he needed — harder, faster, deeper, her soft loose hair brushing his thighs until the pleasure overtook him. Wave after wave crashed over him, making him growl and whine as he spilled himself deep into her sweet little mouth.
He collapsed back against the sofa, dazed and drained, as she slid up his body and snuggled into his lap.
“Jesus fuck, Marie...”
She giggled, and he squeezed her closer, smiling into her hair. She was many things, his Marie. Smart and practical, kind and strong...but no one but him knew about this sex kitten hiding beneath the surface. And if he had his way no one else ever would.
“You’re a naughty, naughty girl, Marie,” he rumbled into her hair, reveling in how the words sent a shiver up her spine, set her soft little body to squirming against him. He tipped her chin up and took her mouth, kissing her softly, sweetly — deliberately holding back until she pressed against him impatiently.
With a sudden movement he had her on her back on the sofa, looming over her, swallowing her squeak of surprise.
He pulled back to look into her wide eyes, running his thumb over her soft, pouty lower lip.
“But then again,” he growled as he flicked open the buttons of her shirt, stopping to lick her collarbone before kissing a tantalizing line down her tender belly. “...I’m a very bad man...”
___________________
Marie lay on the couch, soaking up the fire, wondering if there was a sexier sound on earth than that of a man doing the dishes.
She listened, enjoying her laziness, as he turned the water off and hung up the dishtowel. His heavy footsteps came closer.
“Room for me?” he teased.
She pretended to grumble as he slid in behind her on the couch, pulling her into his arms. She snuggled into his shirt with a sigh. His hand started brushing gently up and down her back.
“So,” she wondered aloud. “Think you can hunt us up a wild turkey, or should I put it on the grocery list for Samuel?”
“Hmmm...” he rumbled, the reverberations tickling her cheek. “I could probably snare us some quail if you wanted. Why turkey?”
She played idly with his other hand, lacing her fingers through his, tracing the tendons on the back of his hand. She had stopped wearing gloves completely.
“It’s Thanksgiving next week. I was thinkin’ we could do it up traditional. You know, turkey and pumpkin pie an’ all that.”
He rumbled with pleasure at her caress. “Do you even like turkey?”
“Not really. But that’s not the point.”
She scraped her nails in between his knuckles where the claws came out, teasing him deliberately. She knew he was hypersensitive there, and smiled at his answering growl.
“It’s just us. Might as well do somethin’ we like. How ‘bout steak?”
She snorted. “You’d eat steak for breakfast, lunch and dinner if you could.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he said mildly. His hand on her back grew more teasing, tickling up her neck and making her shiver before dipping down to trace circles on her lower back.
“Quail could be good,” she conceded. “I’ll bet there’s a good recipe in one of these cookbooks. Anythin’ else you want? You know, mashed potatoes, yams with marshmallows, cranberry jelly, green bean casserole...”
He shrugged. “Never really tried all that stuff. Not that I remember, at least.”
She suddenly felt embarrassed and guilty. Of course he didn’t have any family recipes he was yearning for, but she would have thought that he had at least tried the Thanksgiving special at a diner or something. She was suddenly determined to give him the best Thanksgiving he could ever imagine.
She eased herself up until she was sitting in his lap, kissing the corner of his mouth. “We’ll do everythin’ then. From stuffin’ to pie. You try it all this year, and we’ll pick our favorites to be our new tradition for the other years.”
A strange expression crossed over his face.
“What?” she asked. “Did...did I say somethin’ wrong?”
He kissed her then, so hard and long that she thought she might run out of breath. Not that she minded that much. It seemed like a good way to go.
“What was that for?” she asked when he finally let her go.
He rumbled an indecipherable noise, cuddling her back against his chest. “Nothin’.” He kissed the top of her head. “I just got a lot to be thankful for, that’s all.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Just a few scenes of domestic bliss. Enjoy it while it lasts, soon there will be big happenings starting our final sprint to the finish line!
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D