Sorry if this comes through twice - my email just
Disclaimers etc. in Part 1
< > indicates thoughts
Eighteen months later. . .
Logan heard the shower running before he entered the
room. Whenever her roommates came home from college,
Marie ended up in his bathroom. He wondered idly when
he'd stopped caring about the bottles of fruity gel and
sweet-smelling shampoo cluttering up the windowsill next
to his shower.
"You better not shave your legs with my razor," he
called, flopping onto the bed and trying not to think of
miles of bare Marie-legs, just one room away.
He flipped through the channels, impatiently waiting for
some sporting event to come on. With the end of the
Stanley Cup finals last week (and *damn* if Detroit
didn't win again. He wondered if Scotty Bowman was some
sort of hockey mutant -- the kind that attracted the
Stanley Cup), he was left with baseball or soccer. "Like
watching paint dry," he muttered.
"What's that, sugar?" Rogue asked, opening the bathroom
door in a haze of vanilla-scented steam.
"Nothing," he answered, breathing deeply. "That's a new
"Yeah. Tahitian Vanilla. You like it?" She was toweling
her hair as she walked over to the bed.
She sat in front of him, in nothing but a towel, and he
pulled out the comb from his night table drawer. Another
ritual he'd somehow gotten used to, actually missed when
he was out on the road. Combing Marie's hair. Not that
he'd ever let anyone know how much he liked doing it.
Lately, he'd been doing it without gloves, and she had
stopped protesting. He knew she wanted that simulation
of touch as much as he wanted to give it to her.
His time in Westchester had been interesting, to say the
least. He taught the kids self-defense, did odd jobs
around the grounds, and helped out saving the world
every few weeks. In return, he got room and board, a
chance to flirt with a couple of the most beautiful
women he'd ever met, and the opportunity to spend time
He knew that, without Marie, he'd be gone in a
heartbeat. Somehow, over belly-burners and claws, they'd
bonded, and he wasn't about to let that go. It was the
closest thing he'd had to home in the past eighteen
She sighed in contentment as he ran the comb through her
wet hair. He inhaled the scents of Marie and vanilla,
mingling in the warm air of the room. He could tell she
was aroused, which only made the scent sweeter, but he'd
never done anything about it. He wasn't sure of her
feelings toward him, and didn't want to screw things up
by pushing her for something she wasn't prepared to give
"So, when do the Kat and the Brat leave?" he asked,
after a long silence.
"Logan," she admonished him, but there was no heat in
her voice. His nicknames for Kitty and Jubilee were
apt. She didn't have to turn around to see his
smirk. "That's just it," she continued, slumping
slightly. "Since we've all graduated, we have to room
together until Jean reassigns the rooms. With anti-
mutant sentiment on the rise again, more students are
coming back here to live, instead of going out on their
own." Another sigh. "God only knows when Jean will get
around to us. She thinks we're thrilled to be together
"Ain't ya?" He put the comb down and pulled on a pair of
gloves. Slowly and gently, so as not to startle her, he
began kneading her shoulders.
"Mmm," she purred, her eyes drifting closed, enjoying
the sensations he was producing. She supposed she should
be embarrassed or something, but since this was the
closest she was probably ever going to get to sex with
him, she didn't stop it. She lived for these impromptu
massages and secretly hoped they meant something to him
as well. "It's nice being with them sometimes, but I
kinda got used to living alone, you know? I mean, even
when they were here, you were gone a lot, so --" she
broke off, realizing what that might sound like as his
hands stilled on her shoulders. "Not that I don't love
having you here, sugar. 'Cause I do."
He knew she was telling the truth. The words were out of
his mouth before he could regret them. "Move in here,
She turned so fast she almost lost her towel, which
would have been *damned* interesting, he thought.
"Are you sure?" Her voice was soft, breathy, and damn,
he got harder than he already was, just listening to
He grinned, left eyebrow arched. "Would I ask if I
wasn't sure, Marie?"
"I'm a lot of work," she warned. "And, well, there's
things you'd have to give up."
"Like what?" he asked.
"Putting your cigars out on the furniture. Sleeping
naked. Bringing home random women." She figured if she
got it out fast, maybe he'd agree without really
thinking. She held her breath, waiting to see if she'd
misunderstood him in some way.
He shrugged. "I haven't slept naked since I started
living here, Marie, and I haven't brought home a woman
in months." She nodded. <Seven months, three weeks and
four days, to be exact,> she thought. The time he'd come
back from Canada and settled into the mansion for good.
<And aren't you pathetic for knowing that, Rogue?> "You
might have to deal with some burns on the desk, though.
I always forget where you put the damn ashtray."
She exhaled in relief, and smiled at him.
He felt the world tilt on its axis, and a peculiar ache
in his chest, somewhere in the region of his heart. If
he didn't know it was impossible, he'd have thought he
was having a heart attack.
"That's a yes, I take it?"
In answer, she flung her arms around him, forgetting for
a moment her precarious state of undress. He was so
happy to have an armful of nearly-naked Marie that all
he could do at first was hold her close and breathe her
He pressed kisses to her hair, gently at first and then
with more urgency as her nearness inflamed him further.
"My skin," she whispered, but he just flashed a cocky
grin and pulled some sheer material from his night table.
"I've been hoping for this day for a long time, Marie,"
he answered. "Are you sure it's what you want?" He
dropped his gaze to his hands. "I know I'm not much of a
bargain, with the Swiss cheese memory and the metal
"Don't say that, Logan," she said. "I love you. I think
I have since that night at Chateau Blanc."
"Chateau Blanc?" he snorted.
"That's what Remy calls it."
"That boy better stop sniffin' around my girl," he
growled, rolling so he was on top of her.
"Am I your girl?" she asked.
"Yeah, darlin'. My one and only." He opened the towel
then, and took his first look at her in all her naked
glory. "You're so beautiful, Marie," he whispered,
floating the sheer black square over her mouth so he
could kiss her.
Their lips met and though it was the first time they'd
kissed, there was no awkwardness, just a feeling that
this was right.
There was so much of her he wanted to taste, he thought,
as he moved his mouth along the curve of her jaw and
then down her neck, paying close attention to the spots
that made her moan or purr. He nipped at her clavicle
and moved his hands down to cup her breasts, teasing her
nipples until they pebbled against his palms.
When he brushed his lips over the curve of her left
breast, warming and dampening the material before taking
the firm bud of her nipple into his mouth, she slid her
hands into his hair, gripping his skull tightly. Her
body arched, offering him full access when he finally
did suckle and lick at her nipple. He smelled her
arousal deepening as he did the same to her right
Then he moved lower, feathering kisses down her stomach,
stopping to dip his tongue into her belly-button (which
caused a gasp and an arch he wouldn't soon forget) and
then brushing his lips over the tops of her thighs.
"Logan," she moaned, grabbing the headboard so she
wouldn't be tempted to touch him with her bare hands.
"Yeah, baby, we're getting there," he said, pressing
kisses through the nylon along the sensitive flesh
inside her thighs before finally broaching her sex.
He stroked her warm, wet folds with a gloved hand before
carefully slipping a finger inside her tight passage.
Again she moaned his name as her hips came off the
bed. "Please." It was little more than a hiss of air as
she tried to process the pleasure he was giving her.
He laughed as his lips followed his fingers and the
vibrations were almost enough to make her come. When he
started circling her clit with his tongue, she lost it,
knuckles white from gripping the headboard, head
thrashing from side to side, she came, panting his name.
As she floated down to earth, he took possession of her
mouth again, his hands busily unzipping his jeans and
finding the condoms he'd stashed away in hope that this
day would arrive. She parted her legs to grant him
access and tucked the ends of the fabric underneath her.
He cut a small hole in the nylon, so he would be able to
enter her without coming into contact with her skin.
"This ain't exactly how I planned it," he murmured in
her ear as he positioned himself at her entrance, "but I
think it'll do, if you still want to."
She nodded, her eyes wide and full of love for him. He
wanted to keep that moment forever. It had been her
eyes, more than anything, that had pulled him in that
first night they'd met, and he hoped he could make her
look like that for the rest of their lives.
"Logan, please," she panted, bringing her hips up so her
wet sex brushed against his hard cock.
He grunted in response, slipping slowly into her tight,
wet passage. He reveled in the feel of her. This was
his, and no one else would ever do to her what he was
doing now. She bucked her hips, impatient with his
tenderness, and he was suddenly sheathed in her to the
hilt. She gasped as her body became accustomed to the
size and feel of him, and from the faint smell of blood,
he realized that not only was she his now, she had never
been anyone else's before. He growled again, and fought
every instinct that urged him to move.
"I'm okay," she said. They shifted and he felt some of
the tenseness leave her, so he began moving in and out,
slowly at first, but then faster and harder as she
spurred him on. He slid a hand between them and rubbed
at her clit as he drove into her. She gasped, "Oh, God,
Logan!" and her muscles rippled and tightened around
him, pulling him over the edge into the abyss with her.
They fell together, bright whiteness burning along all
their nerve endings, until they slowly drifted back to
He rolled so she could lie on top of him, resting her
head against his t-shirt-clad chest.
"Is it always like that?" she asked finally.
"No," he replied honestly. "Sometimes it's even better."
Needless to say, there were some at the mansion who were
not too happy with Logan and Rogue's new living
arrangements. Chief among those was Jean.
"He's just using you, Rogue," was the redhead's constant
refrain. "As soon as he sees someone he likes better --
someone he can touch -- he'll drop you like an old shoe."
Finally, after a month of this, Rogue reached a breaking
"Logan, are you gonna leave me for the next sexy
waitress that crosses your path?" she asked on night as
they got ready for bed.
He looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "Why in
hell would I do that, Marie?"
She shrugged and bit her lip. "I don't know. It's just,
everyone seems to think--"
"You mean Jeannie keeps tellin' you that's what's gonna
happen, right?" She nodded. "I'm taking care of this
once and for all, Marie." He flung the door open and
stalked down the hall to Jean and Scott's room.
"Logan," Rogue called, running to keep up with
him, "don't do this."
He just kept walking.
He pounded on their bedroom door and said, "I know
you're in there, so open up."
The door opened and Scott stood there in his green and
blue plaid boxers, looking annoyed. "What?"
"Where's Jeannie? I wanna straighten something out with
Jean came to the doorway, pulling on a silk robe of
seafoam green. "Yes?" she asked, just as Rogue
said, "Logan, just forget it. It's not important."
"Nah, kid. I don't like this shit." He turned to Jean
again. "You keep tellin' Marie I'm gonna ditch her for
the next pretty face." He grabbed her hand and brought
it to the side of his head. "Why don't you take a look
and see for yourself how I feel?"
"Logan, that's not necessary," she began.
"I think it is. Obviously, Chuck knows I would never
hurt Rogue, but you don't seem to get that. Well, here's
your chance to see firsthand," Logan continued, ignoring
all interruptions. "Come on, Red. What's the matter?
Afraid you might see something you don't like? Something
to prove you wrong?"
Jean took a deep breath as Scott and Rogue stood and
watched. "I can tell that you're very worked up right
now, Logan. And I can tell that you care very deeply for
Rogue. But I have to wonder why. And for how long? You
met under very stressful circumstances. It's been
obvious since day one that Rogue's had a crush on you. I
just don't want to see her hurt when you move on."
Logan nodded. "Thanks, Red. Thanks for finally being
honest after all this time, and telling me what you
really think of me." He turned and headed back toward
the room he shared with Rogue. "I'll be outta your hair
first thing tomorrow."
Rogue looked on helplessly as the man she loved strode
away, radiating hurt and anger.
"Nice going, Jean," she said, then turned and ran after
He had his duffel bag out and was throwing his stuff
into it when she walked in.
"Logan, please," she began.
He stopped and looked at her intently, pinning her in
place with his relentless hazel stare. "You wanna come
with?" he said finally.
"I--" She licked her lips. "Of course. I love you,
His eyes didn't waver. "I love you, too." The words,
which he'd never before voiced, though she'd felt it in
his every action since they'd moved in together, hung
heavy between them.
Finally, she said, "You're gonna need a bigger bag." And
she walked to her side of the closet and began laying
her stuff on the bed.
Scott tried to talk Rogue into staying the next morning,
as Logan packed the Cherokee.
"I love him, Scott, and he loves me," she said
softly. "I don't think you realize how much it bothers
him that all y'all think he's taking advantage of me.
I'm almost twenty-two years old, and I'm a college
graduate. I'm not a kid. I haven't been since the Statue
of Liberty. But I need him, and he needs me."
"What did people tell you when you started dating Jean?"
she asked, cutting him off.
He blew out a gust of air, then nodded once. "Yeah,
okay. I see."
"And how did *you* feel? How did she feel?" Rogue
"I said I get it, Rogue. Just, just be careful, okay."
He pulled her into a tight hug and then released her.
Logan stood waiting.
"I always am," the big Canadian replied. Scott offered
his hand, and this time, Logan took it.
They'd driven for almost fifteen hours straight. Logan
barely spoke. She knew he was hurt, even though he
wouldn't discuss it.
It was dark when they entered Detroit.
"We can cross into Canada from here," he said, breaking
the silence for the first time in what seemed like hours.
Rogue stretched and yawned. "Can we eat first?" she
asked. "And maybe use a bathroom?"
He turned and smiled at her. "Whatever you want, Marie."
"So where we going, other than, you know, Canada?"
"I figured we could maybe see Alaska. Now's the time,
while it's summer. Then," he looked over at her, and she
could sense he was a little nervous, "I got a cabin up
past Dawson's Creek--" she chuckled and he looked
offended. "It's a real place, dammit! Not named after
that stupid television show, either. Anyway, I was
thinking, if you're not sick of me by then, maybe we
could, you know, spend the winter there."
He shot her another nervous look, chewing on his cigar,
and she smiled. "It sounds great, Logan."
"It ain't, it ain't like the mansion, Marie, but I'll
take care of you."
They shared a loving glance, and then something caught
"You wanted to eat, darlin'?" he asked, jerking his head
to the left.
A White Castle stood gleaming in the darkness, a beacon
to all those who were hungry for bad, fatty food, and
for two people who had found love in those greasy
"I'd love to, sugar."