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FIC: "In a Thousand Miles": Rogue/Logan: NC-17: 3/4

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  • Jenn
    Part III: Instinctual Fantasies didn t have time limits. That was the best things about them. The second best thing was that you didn t need to have any
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 7 5:04 PM
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      Part III: Instinctual

      Fantasies didn't have time limits. That was the best things about them.
      The second best thing was that you didn't need to have any justification
      and that's why she didn't ask what inspired him to fulfill one of hers.
      Several times.

      Logan had showed her the borders of the property on a map and while he
      slept she went exploring the area while the snow fell softly on
      her--endless white and trees could be pretty redundant after awhile, but
      she stumbled across a frozen brook and briefly wondered if Jean had any
      ice-skates, to match the blue jacket and ski pants she'd found in her
      rummage through the closet. Finding a rock in marvelous convenience
      against a tree, she sat down to take in the view--distantly, she could see
      mountains, dark purple against the sky, and she thought of Logan in bed
      where she left him, hair rumpled, the sheet barely pulled to cover his hip.
      He slept on his stomach and she'd spent an hour just watching him, careful
      to remain silent, tracing his body with her eyes.

      She wanted to remember everything.

      And she shifted on the rock then, because she was *damned* sore and
      shouldn't be getting warm just from thinking about him.

      God, it was beautiful here. For the first time, she understood, really
      understood, why Logan had to get away so much, why so often she traced his
      path on her map across the least settled of the seven continents.

      And damn it, dusk was approaching and she had to get back. An image of
      what she was getting back to made her grin and she stood up, brushing the
      snow from her lap.


      He had the nerve to laugh at her when she tripped backward from her sudden
      turn and fell into a drift, narrowly avoiding hitting her head. He was
      still laughing when he offered her a hand to pull her out, pulling her
      close and drawing his hands slowly down her back over her coat. She took a
      breath and set her concentration, leaning up to kiss him.

      And had to stop, because there was no way in hell they could accomplish
      anything in frostbite weather, though that tree just behind her looked
      damned sturdy--

      {You need some therapy, Rogue.}

      "How'd you find me?" she finally asked when he let her go, taking one of
      her hands and lacing his fingers through hers.

      "Smelled you out." He smirked a little at her disbelief. Marie looked
      around quickly, but her tracks were gone--she'd been here awhile,
      contemplating that water and the fantasy she was living.

      "Across snow?"

      "I could track your scent anywhere."

      She came to face with him, the white of her breath puffing on his lips.

      "Prove it."

      He looked around briefly, then up at the sky, checking the fall of the
      snow, it seemed.

      "I could follow your footprints right now. And I don't need to prove
      it--you've been out here three goddamned hours--your prints are long gone."
      He seemed to be considering something and it made him smirk. "I would have
      *loved* to see you try to get back if I hadn't come out after you."

      She hadn't even considered that and he laughed again at her expression.

      "That, Marie, is why you have me." Easily, he turned her around. She
      settled into a steady walk beside him, taking in the sight of him when he
      wasn't looking. There was snow in his hair and she noted he'd shaved.

      "Did you cook yet?"

      "Do you ever think about anything besides food?" He glanced at her,
      possibly read her expression or guessed at it, and shook his head, even if
      she could see his eyes dilate. "Besides that."

      "Not really. You know, the basic drives--food, shelter, clothing--"

      "Sex. Hmm." He stopped suddenly, turning her toward him before she could
      say anything and she felt him take a breath over her hair--he was smelling
      her. "I thought so--so you're the one that's raided my room for the
      cigars. I thought one of those damned kids did it."

      There was half of one left in her pocket.

      "It took you that long to figure it out. Hell of a hunter, Logan." She
      couldn't help laughing at his expression and he picked her up, tossing her
      over his shoulder effortlessly. She tried to kick and he caught her foot
      before it could make contact with his stomach. She was still laughing when
      she balanced herself semi-upright against his shoulder.

      "Shut up. You don't look the type."

      "Got a taste for whiskey too," she added.

      "Glad I could broaden you education."

      Then he started walking again, and she was unbalanced and fell back down,
      hands grabbing for the edge of his jacket. That made her laugh harder.

      "You can't carry me all the way back." She hit his back with one fist and
      he didn't even dignify it with a grunt. Metal grafted bones and instant
      regeneration, damn it, it was unfair and she couldn't do a damned thing
      about it.

      "The great part about being a mutant is that I can and I very fucking well
      might if you don't stop laughing." He sounded smug, probably looked it

      Nothing could have stopped her then. There were tears in her eyes and it
      was hard to get enough breath back to speak coherently.

      "Not if I fight you."

      "You'd slow me down, that's all. Relax, enjoy the nice view of the ground.
      If you're a good girl and we get back fast enough, your steak might still
      be hot."

      "Fuck you, Logan."

      "Here and now?" And he stopped and actually sounded interested. Her
      breath caught and she felt her face flush.

      "Or someplace a little less wet and a lot warmer?" He didn't move and
      Marie tried to pull herself up again.

      "Maybe inside."

      "Anything you want." He sounded smug and probably looked it and she
      stifled another laugh as she looked down-because it was a damned good view,
      and not just the ground either.

      And there was steak waiting for her.

      * * * * *

      He stripped her in the living room in front of the fire, straight down to
      the jeans she'd folded up enough to wear comfortably and the blue sweater
      she'd rummaged in three drawers to find. She sat down to take off her

      "Get warmed up." He was already turning toward the kitchen.

      "I don't believe you're waiting on me." Marie curled up on the couch,
      pulling the blanket onto her legs from where he'd dropped it at her feet.

      "Neither do I. Must have lost my damned mind."

      "You're just trying to hurry me along so I'll go back to bed."

      "That obvious?" And she flushed at the look he gave her before he smirked
      and disappeared.

      She'd never pegged Logan for the romantic type. Fire, food--she'd just
      slipped into an alternate universe, but it was a damned good place to be
      and far be it from her to remind him that his usual concept of romance was
      to check the bed for a good weight distribution and a lack of other
      occupants before he dropped the girl on it.

      That made her giggle and she buried it in her bare hands.

      Her gloves were God knew where--he'd taken those first, with two whispered
      words in her ear.

      "Trust me."

      It should have been more along the lines of 'I trust you not to kill me by
      accident'. But maybe that was a given--of everyone at the school, everyone
      she'd met, he was the only one who didn't stiffen when they came in contact
      with her body, when her hand came too near theirs, even gloved, even
      clothed within an inch of her life.

      And he *knew* what it felt like when accidents happened. She'd never
      broken that faith, that trust, had developed habits to make sure that
      couldn't happen.

      She heard something crash in the kitchen and winced at the muffled and
      lengthy monologue that followed and buried her head in the pillow so he
      wouldn't hear her laugh.

      * * * * *

      "Why'd you take such a damned convoluted way to get here?" she asked
      softly. Stretched on her stomach on the couch, head rested on his thigh,
      she knew she didn't want to move. Since he didn't seem interested it
      either, it worked out pretty damn well.

      "Ah. That." He sounded perfectly relaxed just above her. Absently, she
      played with the gloved fingers in hers. "Well--the short version--I didn't
      want to be followed."

      "Who'd do that?"

      "Scooter, the minute he realized you were gone. And why, which might have
      taken a little longer if Ororo hadn't wandered out of her room before I
      could get out of sight."

      She nodded slowly, trying to imagine the look on Storm's face when Logan
      had been trying to prowl by her. It was priceless.

      "How long do we have?"

      Silence, and Marie hated herself for asking the question. But the slow
      stroking of her back didn't stop and the world didn't grow suddenly cold
      and meaningless when he answered.

      "Probably a week. Maybe a little more, Cyke can't track very well but he
      will probably talk to Xavier--when he thinks to ask the right question, not
      rant about kidnapping children from their beds."

      "I'm not a kid."

      "I'm not arguing with that."

      A week was a hell of a lot more than she expected. She nodded into the
      denim and felt him lean over her, not quite touching her, breath brushing
      against her cheek and the side of her neck..

      He was smelling her again and she still couldn't quite figure out why he
      did it.

      "Why do you keep doing that?"

      "I like it."

      "That's not an explanation. I keep feeling like I need a shower."

      "Nope." Fingers lifted her hair and he slid a hand under her sweater
      briefly. "You smell good."

      Or Jean's clothes did. She tried not to think about that, forcing her mind
      away from that one aspect that she didn't even dare think about, because it
      would hurt--God, would it hurt. Even if it was the truth she'd accepted
      implicitly when he'd pulled her from her room four days before, when she'd
      gasped beneath him in bed, when she felt his leather-covered fingers run
      over her skin.

      "Scott's going to be furious at me for leaving." She couldn't even pretend
      like she cared.

      "Tell 'em I tied you up in the trunk. They'll believe you."

      She rather thought they'd seriously consider she might have done that to
      him--and chuckled despite herself.

      "I left an explanation for the Professor." He slid his fingers down the
      side of her neck so it took a minute for his comment to sink in.

      She turned on her back so suddenly he almost pulled her hair.

      "You did?" She got images of the paper, scribbled in his barely legible
      writing--'Kidnapped Marie, will bring her back in one piece, tell Jean I
      missed her.'

      "Uh-huh." He didn't seem terribly interested--he ran a hand through her
      hair and damned if he wasn't tracing the line of white. She'd never got
      this much attention from anyone in her entire life and this concentration
      was incredible.

      And damned arousing.

      "What if they need us?"

      "He knows how to contact me if there's an emergency."

      "You unplugged the phone."

      He laughed.

      "Noticed that, did you?" He flipped her back on her stomach with enviable
      ease and ran a finger down her cheek lightly. "That's not how I meant."

      "Oh." She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him, with a complete
      understanding of why cats always looked so content.


      "You never call me Rogue."

      Where the fuck had *that* come from? She felt her whole body go stiff and
      Logan stopped stroking her back--probably because she'd gotten so stiff.
      Slowly, she stretched her arms out before her and pushed herself into a
      sitting position beside him.

      Nothing. She couldn't look at him, couldn't even understand what she'd
      been thinking--and why the hell was she doing this now? Crossing her arms
      across her chest, she leaned back against the opposite corner of the couch.

      "That bothers you?"

      "No. I just noticed."

      Like he'd let her get out of it *that* easily. She felt his steady gaze on
      her, and simply couldn't force herself to look at him.

      "You never asked why."

      God, no, not now. She couldn't face it, tried to turn her head away, but
      he'd already caught her chin and it took effort to keep her gaze fixed on
      his knee, not his face.

      "I didn't--"

      "You knew why already, you don't care, or you didn't want to know?" She
      couldn't get free of his hand and was reminded, with uncomfortable
      suddenness, just how strong he really was.

      She swallowed a breath, feeling her skin flush.

      "I didn't want to know." There, she said it, and her fantasy was over and
      she hated herself for it. But nothing seemed to change and when she dared
      a glance at his face, she didn't see anything but a cool thoughtful
      patience, as if he was weighing the options.

      "You got thirty minutes."


      He freed her chin, leaning back, and she met the dark eyes and saw
      something in them she didn't recognize--not yet.


      That wasn't what she expected him to say.


      "I can track you anywhere. You wanted proof, it's snowing enough to cover
      your tracks, and it's dark enough. Run. I'll give you a thirty minute
      head start."

      "I could get lost." She was already standing up on unsteady feet, and her
      hands were groping for her coat on the far couch.

      "I'll find you."

      "What if you don't?"

      One eyebrow lifted in what could have been a threat.

      "You've never seen me hunt."

      * * * * *

      webpage: www.geocities.com/seperis

      "If you had a cow and an apple tree, and if you tied the apple tree in your
      stable and planted the cow in your orchard, with her legs up, how much milk
      would you get from the apple tree or how many apples from the cow?"

      Take a guess
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