“You really think you can take me?” He flexed the muscles of his shoulders, cracking his neck. He flashed her a grin she had never seen before, sharp and predatory. “Then come at me, darlin’.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He was so damn confident. She may not win, but she’d do her best to take him down a peg or two.
This had been his idea — sparring to help her learn to control her mutation in combat situations. It was a good idea, making sure her skin didn’t defensively flip on if she took a hit. It would give her the choice of whether to use her mutation as a weapon, saving it for a last resort. Still, good idea or not, he didn’t have to be so damn cocky about it.
Snow was three feet deep outside, but the cabin was nice and warm. He stood solidly in the middle of the exercise mats as she approached, his massive chest bare, his faded jeans hanging precariously from his hipbones without the ridiculously large-buckled belt he usually wore. She wore only a tank top and exercise shorts, exposing a maximum amount of skin to accidental touches. His eyes were watchful, but he hadn’t even dropped into a fighting stance yet. She moved closer.
She feinted with her right hand, bringing up her left in a swift rabbit punch to his belly as he shifted. His reflexes were quick — he turned just in time so her fist glanced off his ribs instead. Damn, even with her hands wrapped that hurt like hell. Right, adamantium skeleton, stupid, she told herself, mentally adjusting her strategy.
He struck out swiftly with a right hook but she ducked it, grabbing his outstretched arm and using his own momentum to send him stumbling forward as her leg swept his feet. He caught his balance at the last minute and they disengaged, circling each other.
They weren’t sparring for real yet, just taking each others’ measure. She saw in his eyes that he was taking this more seriously now.
“What’s the matter, sugar? Scared?” she taunted.
He growled, deep and low, and she smiled.
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“What’s the matter, sugar? Scared?” she taunted.
He growled at her in irritation, wondering what in the hell he had been thinking when he suggested this.
She was so focused on the fight she probably had no idea the effect she was having on him, her body slender and lithe in that tank top and tiny shorts, her skin already flushed and slightly damp from the exertion.
He tried to concentrate as she moved in again. She was better than he had expected — much better. He knew she was fit, but he hadn’t realized how well she had been trained. Her reflexes were almost as good as his and he could already tell that she mixed fighting styles easily, fluidly adapting her approach based on the challenge.
She aimed a kick at his head and he blocked it. She used the force of his block to jump up, her other foot catching him square in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps as she landed back on the balls of her feet. He grunted in appreciation. If he didn’t have that extra hundred pounds or so of metal in him she would have sent him flying.
He narrowed his eyes, circling her again. He definitely had some advantages — size and strength, the weight of his metal skeleton, and a reach that far exceeded hers. But she was fighting smart, using her greater speed and flexibility to her advantage, and using his excessive weight against him.
He decided to see how she’d do at grappling. That’s where she would have the least advantage.
He moved in swiftly. She got in a few good licks but he barrelled through them, sweeping her leg and taking her down as gently as he could, landing on his elbows to keep his weight off of her. She used it to her advantage, getting her knee up between them as they fell, pressing it hard into his diaphragm and driving the breath from his lungs.
Using her knee as leverage he managed to flip her, twisting her arm behind her back to hold her still, his hips pinning her lower body in place. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to tamp down on his arousal as she wriggled against him. He was enjoying this much more than he should.
He leaned down, nuzzling into her neck, breathing in the warm sweet smell of her. “You give, baby?”
The next thing he knew pain was exploding through his face. Smart girl — knowing better than to head-butt his metal skull directly she had side-swiped his nose, cracking it, scrambling out from under him as his grip reflexively loosened.
She bounced to her feet at the edge of the mat, and he saw her eyes widen at his bloody nose.
“Aw, sugar,” she said remorsefully. “Are ya okay?”
He sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose, wiggling it a little. “Think it’s still out of joint...can you come take a look?”
She scrambled toward him, concerned, and just as she got close he dropped his shoulder, ducking it into her belly and then straightening up with her in a fireman’s hold, dangling over his shoulder.
He took a moment to appreciate the spectacular view. Keeping one arm solidly braced behind her knees, he couldn’t resist giving her delicious bottom a hearty smack with the other hand.
“Never said I fought fair, darlin’. Maybe next time you’ll — oof!”
She elbowed him hard in the kidneys, and as his grip slackened she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, yanking up with all her strength. “Aargh,” he choked out as his balls were strangled by the crotch of his jeans.
As he doubled over she used the downward force to slide herself along his back. He made a grab for her ankles, worried even through the red haze of pain that she might land on her head, but she slid into a handstand and dropped straight into a graceful roll, springing back to her feet.
“Damn, baby.” He eyed her warily, adjusting himself in his jeans.
She smiled mischievously. “Sorry, sugar.” Her voice dropped to a husky drawl. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
At least I know everything is still in working order, he thought wryly as he hardened instantly.
“I think you might need another spankin’, baby,” he said darkly, smiling inwardly as her eyes widened.
She recovered instantly, sending him a saucy wink. “Then I’ll have to be an especially bad girl, won’t I?” She pulled off her tank top, revealing the sports bra she was wearing underneath.
The air crackled with tension as they circled each other, each looking for the advantage. He tried unsuccessfully to pry his eyes away from her heaving breasts as a droplet of sweat trickled down into the depths of her cleavage. He wanted to chase it with his tongue.
He could feel the animal inside him stirring, lured by the promise of sex and violence. He could still taste the coppery tang of his own blood in his mouth, the scent of her sweat and arousal filling his lungs. This had started out as play but now he felt darker instincts being roused — the urge to dominate her, to show Marie her proper place in his pack.
He halted his movements, rubbing a hand across his face and taking a deep breath.
“Maybe we should stop for now, darlin’,” he said, his voice rough.
Her gaze raked over him appraisingly, and he saw comprehension light her eyes. “Feelin’ a little wild, sugar?”
He figured his growl was answer enough.
She smiled seductively. “I dunno...I kinda like you wild.”
He scowled at her. “You’re playin’ with fire, Marie.”
She moved closer, her hips swaying, running a finger down his bare chest. “Then let’s play.”
He made a grab at her but she shifted behind him, jumping on his back. Her legs wrapped around his waist to hold her in place as one arm caught him around the neck in a vicious choke hold. He reached up, yanking at her arm to give himself some breathing room, just as her other arm snaked around his middle to his groin, stroking him gently through the denim.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Marie!”
She giggled — giggled! — and then he felt her sharp little teeth, nipping firmly at the back of his neck.
He felt the animal surge even closer to the surface. Try to mark him, would she? “You’re in trouble now, darlin’,” he rasped.
She had already made him weak at the knees, it was no problem to drop suddenly into a kneel, jolting her and loosening the grip of her legs around his waist. In a flash he had her under him, her wrists in his iron grip above her head, his hips pinning her securely to the mat.
He buried his face in her neck, finding his mark and giving her a quick extra nip on it before soothing it with his tongue.
“Be careful what you wish for, darlin’,” he muttered into her salty skin.
He ground his hips into her, feeling her breath catch.
“Maybe I don’t wanna be careful. Maybe I don’t want you to be so careful.” Her voice was soft and serious, and he pulled back to look in her eyes.
“What are you sayin’, Marie?”
She tugged one hand free from his loosened grip, bringing it up to gently brush his cheek.
“I understand how worried you were about hurtin’ me, Logan, ‘specially at first. But I see how much you struggle sometimes, tryin’ to stay in control. An’ you don’t need to, sugar. If I wanted to prove anythin’ today it was that I’m not gonna break.” Her dark eyes bored into his. “You can let him go, sugar.”
He felt his gut churning with both fear and temptation. What she was offering him — a part of him wanted nothing more. But yet...
He pushed his face back into the damp skin of her neck, breathing hard, unable to meet her eyes with what he needed to say.
“Marie...I have memories — really screwed-up memories — of lettin’ him free. Of usin’ women like that — maybe even hurtin’ ‘em. I never wanna do that to you.”
“Aw, sugar.” Her hand was gentle, ruffling the hair at the back of his head. “You don’t hafta worry about that. You gotta trust that side of ya. He’s just as protective of me as the rest of you is. He may be a little rougher, but he’s not gonna hurt me. You don’t have to keep pushin’ him back so hard.”
He rolled them so she was lying on his chest. He stroked her hair gently, considering her words. She spoke so easily of the duality of Logan and Wolverine, seemed to understand it even better than he did sometimes. But then again she’d lived with her own duality for years, it seemed. Even just now — the way she had fought, how boldly she had teased him — that had probably been more Rogue than Marie.
Finally she spoke again, her voice both tender and exasperated. “Logan, how’re we gonna be together if you feel like you hafta keep hidin’ part of yourself?”
He struggled for the words to argue but, as if sensing his intent, before he could speak she rolled off him, bouncing back to her feet.
“C’mon, sugar. I still haven’t taken a real hit. That’s what all of this was about, right?”
He knew what she was up to, but found himself on his feet anyway, still conflicted.
“Marie...” he warned.
She came in hard this time, putting her weight behind it, getting in under his reach. He tried to hold her, contain her, but she was quick.
He finally got her in a bear hug, her back pressed to his chest. Both of them were breathing in rough pants, his body aroused to the edge of pain by the feel of her, the scent of her. She knew exactly what she was doing, roughly rubbing against him, grinding into him through the soft denim. Every sensation was heightened by how close to the surface the animal had been lured — the scent of her a wave crashing over him, the feel of her an explosion through his lower belly.
She tilted her head, managing to lick a tantalizing swipe up his neck, making him groan. “C’mon, sugar. That the best you can do?”
He growled again, turning her in his hold, the animal inside him prowling ever closer to the surface, beckoned by her continued challenges and teasing. He took her mouth, pulling her hard into his body, his hands running up and down her the sweat-slicked skin of her back and thighs.
She broke his hold in moments, ducking out of his grasp, making him growl again. He could feel the Wolverine snarling and howling to be free, desperate to give her everything she was asking for. He clenched his fists, struggling for control, and watched her dark, knowing eyes hone in on the movement.
She moved in again, a flurry of kicks and punches. He got an elbow to his still-healing nose and that made him mad enough to try to end this. She wanted to take a real hit, so he would give her one. There was no way he would give her the full force of an adamantium fist but he grabbed her arm tight with his left hand while giving her a swift tap to the ribs with his right.
The pain of her mutation ripped through him instantly, searing every nerve and straining every tendon.
“Jesus, sugar — I’m sorry...are you okay?” The words came to his ears muffled, as if from a distance.
The pain had dropped him to his knees, but by the time she spoke he was already back on his feet. He felt the snap within himself, his mind starting to haze as the wildness in him broke free, lured by the sex and unleashed by the pain. She had managed to do accidentally what she had been trying to do deliberately. Logan would have known that her mutation was involuntary, defensive, but Wolverine only knew that his mate was rejecting him. Challenging him. And that challenge could not go unanswered.
He prowled around her, stalking her — no longer the man but a creature of pure instinct and emotion.
“Sugar?” she said somewhat uncertainly, but words meant nothing to him. He heard only the hesitation in her tone and grunted in satisfaction.
Good. Alpha. Show her.
He could see the surprise in her eyes as he moved in swiftly, pulling her to the mat again and pinning her with his hips. He could hear her rapid breathing, smell her arousal, thick and delicious in the air around them.
She pushed her hips up into his. “Please, sugar,” she said, her voice breathy. Her hands reached for him but he pulled them away, growling. He flipped her over onto her belly, pressing her down into the mat with his full weight, demanding her submission. She whimpered in frustration and the sound heated his blood.
Marie. Mine. Lick her. Mark her.
He grazed her neck with his teeth, finding his mark with satisfaction. He sucked the skin hard, the taste of her exploding in his mouth, sweetness and sweat and desire. She wiggled underneath him and he nipped her with his teeth, a quick reminder of his dominance, and then soothed the hurt with his tongue. She was making soft, urgent noises, pushing back into him, and he bared his teeth in triumph.
Mine. Smell her. Taste her.
His mouth moved on her, licking her salty skin, tracing the sweep of her spine as she trembled beneath him. When he got to the waistband of her shorts he pulled hard, stripping the shorts and panties from her body with one swift movement. He breathed in the scent of her, so lush and vivid it made his head spin.
Wet. Wanting. Mine. Spread her. Take her.
She reached for him again and again he pushed her hands back to the mat with a growl. He pressed down on her shoulders and pulled up on her hindquarters until she was kneeling, bent over, ripe and ready. He yanked his jeans open and spread her knees wide with his, thrusting into her without hesitation. She threw her head back, arching into him, welcoming him.
He reared back and then thrust in again, hard and deep, almost howling in satisfaction at the feel of her, hot and wet and tight and his, his, only his.
Mine. Inside her. Claim her. More. More.
He surrounded her, over and inside and all around her, sweat dripping from his chest as he pushed into her time and again, almost lifting her knees from the mat with the force of his thrusts. She had dropped her head now, the muscles of her arms and shoulders straining as she met each of his thrusts, her cries growing more urgent, her body clutching desperately at his.
Mine. Mate. So good. Hot. Wet. Mine.
He bared his teeth in a snarl as he shook and strained above her, his hands gripping her hips tight. He felt it building and leaned down, teeth firm on the nape of her neck, curling his body around her as he pressed deep. He heard her cry of satisfaction, felt her body fluttering around his, and then he was coming hard, roaring his release into the skin of her neck, his teeth finding the tender junction of neck and shoulder and marking her anew.
Mine.
He felt her grow soft and pliant against him, her body utterly relaxed. He held her hips up when she would have collapsed, churning into her a few final times, staking his claim. His scent on her skin, his mark on her body, his seed in her belly. His.
Then he gathered her up, taking her to the place that was soft and warm and smelled of them both, curling up with her in the soft nest, her head on his chest and his hand warm and possessive on her belly. He felt an unfamiliar sensation in his chest and realized he was purring, a soft, steady rumble.
His mate, eyes sleepy and satisfied, looked up at him and smiled.
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