Feel Love
SacredMacha
notmysight at aol.com
Rating : R
Summary : Sometimes, knowing there's love isn't enough
Category : Au/post X3
Songfic
Archive: Sure.
Disclaimer : I don't own characters or music. Unbetad, again, so my fault for mess ups.
He was making me crazy. Just seeing him, down the hall, coming in out of the rain, shaking out of his leather jacket... it was all too much to handle. My hands itched inside satin, lace, or leather, hot with the need to touch him, stroke covered fingertips over his hair. Lean against him and melt there, the fire inside me burning so hot my bones felt liquified.
I wanted to grab him with my hands, twine my legs around him, lick along his lips and nip at his pulse point. I wanted to drag my nails down his back, and make him howl. But I knew I couldn't, not without killing him and it would make me want to kill myself. He made me want to be so many things. Not just Marie, the touchable. He made me want to be the girl next door, the busty blonde centerfold, the teasing redhead at the corner bar. He made me want to be anyone, and anything he wanted, just so long as he would touch me.
He only made it worse, reaching out to ruffle my hair, a kiss to the top of my head when we watched a movie. His arm around my shoulders, or hands at my waist when I was leaning back against him when we'd stand in the kitchen to talk and hang out. The way he nuzzled his face into the curve of my neck, his breath hot and filtered through my hair.
When I thought he was lost to me, I could have managed. We'd had such a short time since that night he'd finally upped the ante and called my bluff. His ring sat on my finger under my gloves, unless we were out on a mission. Now, with him back, his having saved me again from not only the possession of someone in my head, but my own demons, it was something I was sure I was going to die. Slowly, painfully, and in much agony, just from wanting him so much.
Once, I was grateful for the fact he wanted me near him, would reach out to touch me at all. Fingers playing with my hair, brush of fingers along my cheek in just a shadow of a touch. Things no one else was brave enough to do, Logan did casually, as if it should be standard daily practice to let the girl with killer skin sit curled up to you on the couch, to take her for rides on the motorcycle, cheek pressed to your shirt covered back. Most people thought cloth was too little a barrier to trust against my skin, as if I would ooze poison all over them and kill them without regard. For Logan, fabric was an enemy to be defeated, little by little.
God knows he's been trying. Before Chuck sent him on that little mission, it seemed like we were making a little headway. Brushes of fingers against skin could linger a moment, then the space of a few heartbeats, before the connection had to be broken. Risks taken, little kisses, brush of a hand along my lower back where sometimes a hint of skin showed below the hem of my t-shirt. Logan loved playing with danger, no doubt, but I know too, that he loved seeing the way those touches made my pupils go wide, or my cheeks flush. Hear me catch my breath before I turned to give him a look from under lashes, twisting my scarf between fingertips. That scarf soon the only thing between his mouth and mine, as I tried to will my mutation away, so I could just have more, and more.
Nights spent, taking turns on who stayed covered and who didn't. The man knew how to tease, leather clad fingertips just running over my skin, again and again, whispery touches that anyone else would have ignored. I shivered and swore at him, so deprived of casual contact that such touches sent me soaring, even before that scarf slid over my skin for more sinful, sensuous sensations. He left me sweating and short of breath, but it was never enough. I wanted more, I wanted all of him.
He was so damned sure, that enough time and work, we'd have it all. That I'd be in control of my mutation, and we could stop the blasted games and be together the way I dreamt of. I sure hope none of the telepaths in the school were easily offended, because they got more graphic than any NC-17 movie I'd glimpsed. Skin on skin, satin and scarves in play, it didn't matter to me. I wanted him, and the sooner, the safer for everyone around me.
I woke up, dreams still fresh in my mind, wanting to go to his door, waiting for him to open it and let me in. Wanting him to curl his fingers in my hair, and drag me into his room, up against him. I wanted to feel his teeth biting at my neck, hear him growl in my ear. I wanted to let him use that wide collection of scarves to tie me up to the bed. I wanted so damned much, even in my dreams. Dreaming of him finding me out on the grounds in the rain, tackling and tumbling us both the grass. His claws cutting away the soaked t-shirt I'd be wearing, and his mouth hot on rain chilled skin.
Don't get me wrong, I love Logan, and I love that he wants me to have everything. It's terribly sweet and strong of him, to try and torture himself, limiting himself to the touches we have. He wants that final tumble to be skin on skin, nothing but he and I, and wherever our desires take us. No one would ever know he was that romantic, not with the rugged exterior and rough language.
But when I'd absorbed the last guy, gotten myself jacked up on more foreign substances than I want to think about... I'd lost it. Even that precious almost minute he could kiss me before my mutation sparked to life and severed the safety of the touch. I was starting over again, and again, and while it might have worked out for Promethius, it wasn't working for me. I couldn't do this anymore, not to me, and not to Logan. Everyone gives him too little credit, thinking the Wolverine is the dominant side, but even an animal can appreciate the right moment and the right mate.
I just couldn't make him wait for the right moment anymore, not if I was going to be the right woman. For both our sakes. Now it was a matter of doing it without him getting in my way.
So, in a rather Logan like fashion, I left. Unlike Logan, there was a note behind, saying I'd be back.. when I was ready for he and I to be us, and stop this torture of touching and yet not touching.
I'd be back when I could feel love.
Feelin' Love :Paula Cole
Love, love
You make me feel like a sticky pistil...
leaning into a stamen
You make me feel like a mister sunshine...
Himself
You make me feel like splendor in the grass...
While we're rollin'
Dance with me baby
You make me feel like the Amazon's runnin' between...
my thighs
CHORUS:
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love
You make me feel like a candy apple
All red and horny
You make me feel like I wanna be a dumb blonde
In a centerfold, the girl next door
And I would open the door and...
I'd be all wet
With my tits soaking through this tiny little t-shirt...
That I'm wearing
And you would open the door and tie...
Me up to the bed
Chorus
Lover, but I don't know who I am
Am I Barry White? Am I Isis? Ohhh...
Lover, I'm laced with your unconscious
Oh baby babe babe baby
I will be your Desdemona ahhhhh...
Take your time
You make me feel Ahaa
You make me feel WooWoo baby
You make me feel Ahaa mmm
You make me feel loved
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