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Fic: Complications 1/3 [L/R] - NC-17

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  • victoria p.
    Title: Complications Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net] Rating: NC-17 – Language and sex. Summary: Logan and Rogue have sex. And then things get
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 29, 2001
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      Title: Complications
      Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
      Rating: NC-17 – Language and sex.
      Summary: Logan and Rogue have sex. And then things get complicated.
      Disclaimer: I own not. You sue not. All songs belong to their respective
      owners, none of whom are me.
      Archive: If you want it, I ain’t gonna say no. Just drop me a line to tell
      me where it’s living.
      Feedback: Me = Feedback whore
      Notes: I’m in a very strange mood. I think it’s the caffeine and the lack of
      sleep. This was originally supposed to be PWP, but then a little bitty plot
      snuck in. A really itty bitty plot. I mean, like, a microscopic plot. <g>

      Also, this has only been gone over once. I'm impatient and got the itchy
      posting feeling, so all mistakes should be laid directly at my door. Thanks
      to Jen, Meg, Dot and Pete for your support.


      < > indicates thoughts
      ~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation


      Logan looked at the woman sleeping in bed next to him and wondered how it
      all got so complicated.

      He'd come back to Xavier's School after a year of cold leads and frustrating
      dead ends. He and the kid had become friends, something he'd never really
      expected or experienced.

      She got over her crush on him enough to date Bobby for two years, losing her
      virginity to Popsicle Boy on the night of their high school graduation. She
      had consulted with Logan first about the best ways to go about such an
      important undertaking. He'd worried about her and given her the best advice
      he could, which basically amounted to, "Use a condom and tell him if he
      hurts you, I'll kill him."

      She and Bobby drifted apart once he went away to college, while she stayed
      at the mansion and went to school locally.

      She took up with Remy. That didn't last, since that boy couldn't seem to
      keep it in his pants, and he had execrable taste in women, Marie excepted.
      Logan had had more than one confrontation with the Cajun, where claws were
      extended and warnings given.

      He knew she'd dated guys in college. Even brought one or two of them home
      for his approval. They'd show up and he'd look them over from a corner of
      the living room while they waited for Marie to get dressed. If they managed
      not to piss themselves, and showed a sufficient interest in hockey, they
      usually got his okay.

      She graduated college and joined the X-Men and he really couldn't stop her,
      though he'd tried to talk her out of it. He didn't like to see her taking
      risks or in danger. He was still looking out for her, though six years had
      passed since that day on the train when he promised to do so. She was the
      one that had pulled him out of his meaningless existence; she was his best
      friend and his drinking buddy, and he never ever planned on that changing.

      Even after they had sex.

      He never planned on having sex with her, either. It just happened. They had
      returned to the mansion after fighting a mutant terrorist group trying to
      take over the Mexican government.

      Logan was primed and ready for action. He always was, after a fight. It
      didn't seem strange that Marie felt the same. After all, she had an awful
      lot of him in her, even after all the years that had passed since that night
      on the Statue of Liberty.

      He had a routine after missions. He showered, dressed, and went looking for
      a bottle of Wild Turkey and a willing woman. Neither was ever hard to find.
      He just never expected it to be Marie this time.

      They were lagging behind the others on the way to the locker room, rehashing
      the fight, when she said, "Take me with you."

      It was one of the few times she managed to surprise him. "What?"

      "Wherever you go after this. I can't sleep. I'm too wired. It's still
      early." She repeated herself. "Take me with you."

      He could smell it on her, the adrenaline and the arousal -- it reminded him
      of himself, and of himself inside her. Which was kind of a turn on, when he
      thought of it that way. <Inside Marie,> he mused, for once not stopping his
      mind from going where it usually went when he saw a beautiful woman.

      He'd never allowed himself to think that way about her before. First,
      because she'd been a kid, and he'd been responsible for her. And then
      because it seemed strange to think of Marie as a sexual creature. Even
      though he knew she was having sex, it never struck him as quite real -- he
      figured parents probably felt that way about their children. But he never
      thought of her as his daughter. Ever. If he had, nothing that followed would
      have ever happened.

      Occasionally he'd watch her in her lyrca gym clothes or in her leather
      uniform, but he always stopped his mind from lingering on her generous
      curves or her lush mouth. Until this time.

      "Yeah," he said, a slow grin appearing on his face. "That'd be fun."

      And it had been. They'd gone to a local tavern, instead of into the city as
      he usually did. They'd shot a little stick, and a lot of bourbon, and then
      suddenly she was on his lap in the booth, running her hands through his hair
      as he whispered in her ear all the things he'd like to do to her.

      They barely made it back to her room before he had her lying on the bed,
      clothes off, his gloved fingers (he never went anywhere without gloves. It
      was a silent testament to the strength of his feelings for her, and his
      determination that she be treated as normally as possible whenever possible)
      slipping easily into the wetness between her legs.

      "Oh, Logan," she hissed and the sound of his name on her lips made him
      harder than he already was. He stroked her until she came and he pressed
      her face into his shoulder so no one could hear her scream.

      She reached for the zipper on his jeans, undoing it with a flourish. She
      pulled a condom from her night table drawer and lowered it onto him with her

      "Where--" he gasped.

      And she grinned around his hardness. Raising her head, she said, "You.
      Stripper. Miami," before returning her mouth to his cock and teasing him
      with her tongue.

      He cursed when he thought about that later, because she'd lied to him. She'd
      told him a long time ago that she didn't really have clear access to his
      memories, just feelings and impressions, and this was a hell of a lot more
      detailed than he expected.

      But he wasn't really thinking right now.

      He put a hand on the back of her neck and tried to control himself. He
      didn't want to come in her mouth. That wasn't how he'd imagined it.

      Sometimes things don't go the way you plan. She was better than he'd
      expected, wrapping her tongue around him and scraping her teeth along the
      sensitive underside of his penis. He couldn't hold on, thrusting himself
      deeper into her mouth and shuddering as he came.

      She smiled at him, and stretched like a cat as he disposed of the condom and
      pulled out a new one.

      "It's still early," he said, echoing her words. "We got lots of time." His
      healing factor was very useful in these situations.

      They did everything he'd whispered to her in the bar. Twice.

      Then she'd rolled over and fell asleep, mumbling about how she had a class
      to teach tomorrow, and she was probably going to be sore.

      He lay awake, wondering if things were going to change between them. He
      couldn't even blame it on alcohol, since he wasn't drunk. She wasn't either,
      by the time they'd gotten home. He didn't want her to think he'd taken
      advantage of her in any way.

      He considered going back to his room. If it had been any other woman, in any
      other circumstance, he wouldn't have thought twice. But this was Marie. He
      wondered what it meant to her, what it meant for their relationship. <Don't
      be such a fucking pansy,> he scolded himself. <We're friends. She knows this
      didn't mean anything more than that.>

      He spent the night there anyway, and woke her up with an early morning
      display of his talents. She rolled over onto her stomach and he slid into
      her from behind, glorying in her tightness as he set the rhythm that would
      take them both home. She used a pillow to muffle her moans and he slid the
      sheet over her shoulder and bit down hard when he came.

      After resting for a few moments, they looked at each other.

      "You okay?" he asked.

      "Never better, sugar," she replied, smiling. She pulled his arm around her,
      and snuggled. He'd kept his clothes on -- that was a first for her. Usually,
      the men she'd been with had stripped and required her to remain covered. She
      sighed contentedly. "This doesn't have to change things."

      He smiled in return. "I knew you'd say that, darlin'." They lay silent for a
      few minutes, then he got up and walked to the door. "See ya later?"

      "We got sparring at three," she responded. "I wouldn't miss it for the

      And he left, thankful that he'd found someone who understood.


      Rogue stretched and felt her muscles pull. She was definitely sore, but it
      was a good soreness. She thought about him and was glad she'd said the right
      thing. She didn't want to lose his friendship. This had been an aberration,
      based on adrenaline and alcohol, not love. For her as well as for him. She
      understood that, understood him.

      He needed this, and she was, first and foremost, his friend. She loved him,
      always had, but had settled into comfortable companionship, since that was
      what he wanted. She wasn't going to let sex get in the way.

      She had fallen in love with Bobby and again with a guy named Alan from
      college. Neither relationship had worked out, but not because of her
      feelings for Logan. They just accepted that he was part of her life, and
      never thought anything of it. That was how she always expected it to be. The
      idea that he would fall in love with her had stopped being a part of her
      fantasies a long time ago, and she wasn’t going to start wishing for the
      impossible now. Though she’d never expected to sleep with him, she knew it
      didn’t mean to him what it meant to other people, and she wasn’t going to
      let herself be hurt when the relationship didn’t blossom into something

      They already had the best relationship anyone could ask for, and she didn’t
      want it to get complicated.


      Rogue entered the dining room cautiously, wondering if anyone had any
      inkling what had happened last night.

      Ororo waved her over. "You look tired," the weather witch said by way of

      "Thanks," Rogue responded wryly. "I can always count on you to give me the
      news straight, 'Ro."

      "Going out drinking with Logan isn't the best way to look refreshed," the
      other woman replied. "Especially since you cannot keep up with him."

      <That's what you think,> Rogue thought, struggling to keep from grinning
      idiotically. She sighed with gusto. "It's not fair, is it," she said. This
      was an old conversation.

      Ororo laughed. "Life seldom is, Rogue."

      They went on to discuss other things, mainly Ororo's rooftop garden and
      Rogue's promise to help prune the roses later that day. Rogue realized that
      nobody knew about her and Logan. Or if they did, they didn't care. Which
      made her feel even better about the whole thing. Because once other people
      got involved, things tended to get complicated.


      They didn't become all about sex. In fact, it was months before they did it
      again. And again, it was after a mission. They didn't even make it to her
      room this time. He took her up against the wall in the garage, using a claw
      to cut a hole in the crotch of her tights and panties and using the condom
      in his wallet.

      They giggled like schoolchildren playing a prank afterward. Well, Rogue did.
      Logan would never do anything so girly as giggle. He chuckled manfully,
      once. They felt like they were putting one over on everyone, though Logan
      could smell sex in the garage for days afterward. It made him grin as he
      worked on the bike.

      They never talked about it, though, after it happened. It was just an
      occasional bout of sex-play between friends. They didn't think of themselves
      as a couple or as being "in love."

      "We're friends who fuck," Logan told the bartender one night when asked
      about the little hottie on his arm. Rogue had laughed at that description,
      but it seemed apt.

      “What?” he asked later, as they lay sweaty and content in her room. “That’s
      the truth, right? No bullshit for us, Marie. We’re always straight with each
      other.” He raised himself up on one elbow and looked her in the eye, running
      a leather-clad finger down her nose. “Right?”

      She grinned. “Right, sugar.”


      So it continued for a few months. He was seeing a woman in town. Rogue knew
      about it, and tried not to let it bother her. It didn’t bother her, she told
      herself vehemently. This was exactly the sort of thing they were trying to
      avoid. Jealousy would kill their friendship, and that was more important to
      her than anything else in her life.

      Keeping that in mind, she never commented on his activities with other
      women, and made sure that she always had a handsome man on her arm at public

      It was after one such occasion, a homecoming dance for the students, that
      Rogue and Logan once again found themselves together and at loose ends. In
      the past, he might have taken her out for a ride on the motorcycle, but now,
      he just wanted to get her up to her room and ride her hard.

      She knew what he was thinking when he looked at her *that* way -- his eyes
      dark and intent. It was a look she could easily become addicted to. Had
      become addicted to, if she was honest with herself. She tried not to think
      about him looking at anyone else that way, though she was sure he did. When
      she was honest with herself, she admitted she hated that idea.

      She laughed and stretched ostentatiously. “Good night, Ororo, Hank. It’s
      been a long day and I’m exhausted. I’m heading to bed.”

      Fifteen minutes later, he was at her door. His eyes widened in surprise when
      she opened it.

      "You went shopping," he commented appreciatively.

      "You like it?" she asked, whirling.

      She'd found the perfect outfit for a woman with deadly skin. It was a long
      black negligee made of micromesh so fine that none of her skin was exposed,
      but so sheer that she might as well have been naked. Long gloves of similar
      material covered her arms, and her legs were encased in sheer black
      pantyhose, slightly modified to suit the occasion.

      "God, yeah," he growled, reaching for her.

      He backed her up against the desk and easily lifted her onto it, standing
      between her legs. He buried his face against her gauze-swathed neck, kissing
      and biting until she was gasping for air.

      She was always amazed at how, with just a look and a growl, Logan could make
      her so wet. She'd had other lovers -- Bobby was inexperienced, Remy was
      selfish, Alan, tender -- but sex with Logan was so far beyond what she'd
      felt with them, that it couldn't even be compared. And it wasn't just
      because he was so knowledgeable.

      At moments like these she was able to admit to herself that there was
      something between them that was more than simple companionship, but she was
      afraid to say anything, afraid to start hoping. It had taken her a long time
      to get over him the first time, and she didn't know if she'd make it if she
      had to do it again.

      But there was no time for thinking, not with his hips rocking into hers, and
      his mouth -- oh, that hot and talented mouth -- latched onto one of her
      nipples. It was like she wasn't wearing anything.

      She arched into him, panting his name. She pulled his head up and floated
      her scarf across his face so she could kiss him. She loved kissing him,
      would even consider giving up the sex if she could spend the rest of her
      life being able to kiss him without a barrier between them. Those were
      dangerous thoughts and there was no time for that now, as his tongue thrust
      into her mouth through the damp gauze and his teeth nipped at her lower lip.

      One of his hands slid down her body to curl over her abdomen, his gloved
      fingers finding the "modification" on her pantyhose.

      He pulled back and grinned approvingly. "Good thinking, Marie," he murmured,
      "though I kinda like havin' to rip holes in your clothes." And his fingers
      were buried in the soft folds between her legs before she could respond. She
      hissed his name as the pressure within her spiraled tighter.

      "I want you inside me," she whispered, using one hand to unzip his jeans and
      the other to grab his wallet and remove a condom. His only response was a
      growl at the feel of her hand sliding up and down his hard shaft. She slid
      the rubber on quickly and then wrapped her legs around his waist, brushing
      the head of his cock with her warm, wet flesh. "Hard and fast," she
      murmured, carefully taking his earlobe between her teeth, with no cloth
      separating them.

      He thrust deep into her, his hands cupping her ass as she moved her hips in
      time with his. She came in record time, biting her lip 'til it bled to keep
      from screaming his name and letting the whole house know what they were up
      to. His tongue flicked out and licked at her mouth, so quickly her deadly
      skin didn't have time to respond, and then his hand pressed her face to his
      still-covered shoulder as he felt himself fly apart, white lights exploding
      behind his eyes, growling her name.

      They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity, though in reality it
      was only a few seconds, her head resting on his shoulder, his chin on her
      hair. Tenderness, a fierce desire to never let her go, welled up inside of
      him, and he closed his eyes tighter, feeling his throat constrict. This was
      a totally new thing, something he only ever felt with her, and it scared him

      He carried her back to the bed and ran his hands over her body. They weren't
      done, not by a long shot. He'd never been so happy having super-accelerated
      healing as he was on nights with Marie.


      TBC shortly


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