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FIC: Jus Ad Bellum Part IV: MA: 5/9: Rogue, all

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  • Jenn
    5/9 * * * * * Hours later, I watched dawn break outside the window of his room, curled up under the blankets that smelled so much like him--and like me,
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 9, 2001
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      5/9


      * * * * *

      Hours later, I watched dawn break outside the window of his room, curled up
      under the blankets that smelled so much like him--and like me, too, a mix
      that was pleasant and faintly comforting.

      Distantly, I heard the door open and stiffened.

      There were faint sounds of him in the other room, the soft pad of his
      approach to the bedroom, and a pause--almost uncharacteristic of him, to
      not make the decision immediately. I wondered for a moment if he was going
      to come in or wait until I emerged, before he pushed the door open.
      Knowing it was useless to pretend I was asleep, I sat up, absently brushing
      my hair from my face.

      For an endless moment, we stared at each other--he looked tired, almost
      sad, but the intensity struck me again, and I felt like something
      infinitely precious, wanted, even needed. Another hesitation, almost
      imperceptible, before he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

      "Why are you still wearing it?"

      My hand went up to the collar--I hadn't slept in it before. And I knew
      what he was thinking--I'd forgotten because I'd been so upset. He was
      thinking that he'd hurt me, and he was regretting it, hating himself for
      it. I knew that--I knew him.

      I *knew* him.

      "So they'd be quiet." A pause, then I pushed the comforter a little
      farther down, feeling his eyes on my throat, my chest, slipping down to my
      waist. Wrapped in one of his old flannel shirts that smelled of him. "I
      was--I was waiting."

      "For what?"

      For you. For me. For my mind to convince me that this was an illusion of
      the real thing--that what was before me was nothing more than displaced
      memory and passion for someone else.

      I've never been good at avoiding the truth. Reaching up, I twisted my
      fingers through the chain around my throat, taking a moment to remember
      everything I was willing to give up. The man who saved me on the Statue;
      the one that held me when I cried. The one that had taught me everything I
      knew, and who I'd loved more than anyone on earth.

      Then twisted, feeling the chain break, and I threw it across the room,
      hearing it hit the wall.

      I didn't watch it fall.

      "For you."

      A pause, before he leaned back against the door, eyes closed. He'd given
      up before he stepped foot in the apartment that morning--probably before
      the moment he left, knowing his decision had been made when he lit that
      cigar. Logan had never been able to walk away from me, not in this world,
      not in the other. God knew, he'd tried his damndest.

      "Marie, what if--what if I don't care anymore?"

      God. I waited, letting that flow through me, the way out he was giving me,
      giving my conscience, letting me pretend to myself this had nothing to do
      with him at all. Then I kicked back the blankets, bare legs still damp
      from my early-morning shower.

      I was so much stronger than that. I could live with the truth.

      "He's not up here." I tapped my temple, then paused, shutting my eyes
      briefly, clearing my mind of everything extraneous. I wasn't going to walk
      away, and I should have known from the beginning I wouldn't be able to.
      "I want you."

      There was no hesitation at all, no time for me to be horrified by what I'd
      chosen, nothing but the weight of him on top of me, tongue pressing inside
      my mouth, hands braced beside me. It wasn't the slow seduction of the
      night before, flavored with tobacco and things neither of us were willing
      to say. Just bright heat, quickening my body when I unbuttoned his shirt
      and pushed it out of my way, when he parted the flannel with a rip of the
      few buttons I'd fastened, lowering his mouth to my throat, finding the
      bruise from the night before and growling in satisfaction. I ran my
      fingers through his hair, exploring his back with my bare nails, digging in
      when his lips settled low on my shoulder over the muscle as I arched up
      into him. His hands cupping my breasts, and I wrapped both legs around his
      waist and gasped when he ground into me.

      "Marie," he murmured as his teeth found the sweat-slicked skin of my chest,
      the tops of my breasts, sliding his tongue between to trace an invisible
      line from my sternum to my navel, then a quick bite to the side of my
      breast. I shivered at the feel of the sideburns against the sensitized
      skin, brushing my nipples hard, an ache forming between my legs, and I
      tightened my thighs to grind up against him. My hands could just slip
      between us and I loosened the hold of my legs and slid my fingers down his
      chest, over the hard stomach that had showed up in more than one of my
      fantasies, down to his jeans, sliding the heel of my hand the length of his
      erection.

      There was a hard nip to my throat, a low growl against my stomach that told
      me he was close to losing what little control he had. And that was what I
      wanted; I wanted it stripped from him, stripped from me, wanted no time to
      do anything but feel--all that bare skin, all that beautiful body, all
      mine. I got his jeans undone as he ran rough fingers between my legs,
      pressing hard with his thumb once, enough to draw a gasp from between my
      lips. I used my feet to push his jeans down while he kicked them off,
      still feeling his hesitation, his fear of hurting me--but I knew what he
      could do, what he was capable of, and I wanted all that too.

      I wanted everything.

      Pushing him back a little, I drew my legs up and slipped two fingers into
      the edges of my underwear, pulling them slowly down my body while he knelt
      before me, utterly still as I discarded them on the floor. Watching him, I
      pressed my legs apart with the palms of my hands, sitting slowly up and
      shaking my hair back. The hazel eyes met mine for the briefest instant,
      before I slid my fingers inside myself and heard his sharply indrawn
      breath, twitching between the desire to touch me and fascination with what
      I was doing for him.

      Breathing harder, feeling his gaze on me, I pulled out, raising my hand to
      slide my wet fingers across his lips, his tongue instantly slicking over
      them, taking in the taste of me. Every nerve in my body was strung taut,
      before I felt the snap in him, the snap in me, when he caught my wrist,
      pinning it to the bed beside my hip, pushing my thighs farther apart and
      his mouth pressed between my legs.

      "Oh God, yes," I heard myself gasp at the flood of raw sensation, as he
      braced a hand on my thighs, holding me open, tongue licking expertly along
      my clit, sliding down to push inside me. I arched my back at the feel,
      hearing my own breathing loud in the room, punctuated by his low growls of
      satisfaction. I sank my nails into the sheet beneath me, heels digging
      into the mattress, until everything condensed inside me--how I wanted this
      first time, what I wanted from it. Reaching down, I dug shaking fingers
      into his hair and he slowly pulled away with a nip that tightened
      everything almost to the snapping point.

      "Please, Logan--"

      I wasn't even sure anymore what I was asking for.

      He understood, sliding up my body, rubbing against every supersensitized
      inch of my skin, his full weight covering me, hot and heavy and close
      between my legs before the first thrust that filled me completely, utterly,
      suspending thought, suspending fear, suspending everything but the feeling.

      Everything that was touch, that was Logan, that was the utter impossible
      fantasy brought to technicolor life behind my closed eyes until I forced
      them open. I needed to see this; I needed to believe this.

      I arched my back with every thrust, his hand tangled in my hair and mouth
      buried in my throat. Fucking me like he wanted to crawl inside me and stay
      there, like he wanted to imprint me with his body so everyone could see and
      know who I belonged to, like I was the only thing he'd ever wanted in his
      life. I pressed my nails into his back and locked my ankles together,
      gasping in breaths that weren't enough, pure pleasure white-hot through my
      body, every nerve registering off the scale.

      I wanted to lose myself in him, because here and now, nothing else made a
      damn bit of sense. This was *mine*.

      "Marie," he whispered against my ear, grinding into me hard enough to send
      a shock of hot pleasure through my body. "Baby, that's it...."

      He was whispering more words against the skin of my shoulders, my throat,
      my cheek, my lips, words strung together, words that had power behind them.
      Words that were simple and direct and more true than anything anyone had
      ever said to me before in my life. How I felt and how I smelled and how he
      wanted me and needed me and owned me and would never let me go. He told me
      the things he wanted to do to me, the ways he wanted to mark me, and I said
      yes and held tighter, nails digging into his back to pull him as far into
      me as flesh would let me.

      I knew it was coming, felt it quivering in every muscle of my body, every
      inch of sweat-slicked skin, his hand tightening in my hair with the first
      convulsive shudder, his eyes meeting mine and holding them when I threw my
      head back and whispered his name. He kissed me then, finishing with
      staccato thrusts into me and a low growl as the aftershocks of my orgasm
      consumed me.

      And finally, we were utterly still, and I slowly lowered my trembling legs,
      wrapping an ankle around his calf to keep him close and running my hands in
      fascination down his sweat-slicked back and through his hair, wondering how
      on earth I'd ever lived without him.

      "I love you," I whispered against his ear, his body covering me, mouth
      against my shoulder, still buried deep inside me; he was worked into every
      pore of my skin, every nerve, every thought. I'd never felt more alive in
      my life, more complete, more utterly at peace with myself.

      I'd fucked up and knew it, knew I'd just bought myself hell on earth, and I
      didn't give a good damn.

      *****

      "Are you hungry?"

      Surreal, to say the least. Food wasn't something I remembered even existed
      and it took considerable effort to even try to figure out what he was
      talking about. Food. Hmm. Logan shifted a little and I muttered something
      unintelligible even to me, digging my nails into his chest. With a low
      chuckle, he settled back and let me continue my explorations.

      Barely awake, I thought it might be near time to get up, but couldn't
      really be bothered. There was just so much of him, so much skin, and I
      couldn't get enough of touching him. He didn't seem to mind--let me spend
      hours exploring everything about him, finding out what he liked, what he
      didn't, the textures skin could be, the differences between his chest and
      his hip--

      So far, he was on board with anything I wanted to try. And I was
      sore--God, I'd never been sore before, never like this. Even my legs
      ached.

      "Not really." I lowered my head back to his chest, feeling his low, soft
      purr when I licked his skin, the mix of sweat and Logan and myself filling
      up my senses. A lazy hand twisted lightly in my hair, stroking through the
      tangled strands, letting me map him inch by inch with the tip of my tongue.
      Shutting my eyes, I laid my head down and let him stroke me softly, finding
      the sore muscles with the tips of his fingers and easing them into dull
      acceptance. Rolling me on my stomach, the strong hands worked gently over
      my shoulders and down my back, loosening muscles I hadn't even realized I'd
      tensed.

      "When's the last time you ate?"

      I had to think about that--bracing my head on one hand, I focused my eyes
      on him for a brief moment, then gave up trying to remember anything that
      didn't have to do with sex or him.

      "No clue."

      "Shit." Another long stroke of my hair, down to the small of my back,
      before he gently pushed me onto my back. "You're too thin to skip meals.
      Be right back."

      I pouted a little and that earned me a grin.

      "I've seen your refrigerator. The things in there don't qualify as food.
      Some of them have started moving." And duck l'orange just wasn't a food to
      wake up to. Just no way.

      "You're cute, baby. I'm ordering in." A pause. "And calling in, unless
      there's some damn good reason you wanna go back to the school today."

      "None at all." Stretching, I felt his eyes travel down my body--sheet be
      damned, I didn't want to cover myself ever again. It was amazing, the feel
      of sheets and skin against mine, the way I didn't have to be afraid. Logan
      grabbed his jeans from the floor, pulling them on quickly before going out
      the bedroom door in search of a phone, and I rolled on my side, drawing my
      knees up to my chest and concentrating on relaxing every muscle I'd ignored
      for the last few hours.

      God, I'd forgotten that sex could make you sore as hell. It'd been a
      damned long time since I'd made love without invulnerability. And never
      with nothing but our skins between us. With a grin, I ran a hand down my
      side, wincing when I felt the reddened and abraded skin along thigh and
      stomach.

      "Sore?" He was standing at the bedroom door, giving me a long look that
      took in my entire body. I stretched lightly, refusing to wince at the pull
      of the bruises on my back and the tension in my calves.

      "Not enough to care. Come here, sugar." I had sex time to make up. Logan
      shook his head and I half sat up, rolling my shoulders a little. My back
      ached, my legs ached, and I--

      "Oh *shit*," I gasped, sitting straight up and gaining a new variety of
      screaming muscles. "Oh God, I didn't--I can't believe--" I forgot. I
      totally, completely, where the fuck is your head, Marie? Logan frowned and
      crossed the room, dropping on the bed beside me and I felt his hand brush
      through my hair.

      "Marie?"

      "We didn't--" I took a breath, letting it out slowly. Had I not been
      talking about babies with Jean? Had I totally forgotten sex ed class? Was
      I an idiot? "I'm not on the pill--Logan, I--"

      "Oh, that." Well, that was blase indeed. I jerked my head up and studied
      the unconcern on his face. Not expected. "Don't worry."

      "Don't worry?" My voice rose an octave at very least and Logan grinned a
      little.

      "Not the right time, baby."

      I blinked.

      "How would you know?"

      He sighed softly, and his fingers dropped to the back of my neck, rubbing
      the muscles I'd just abused. I let him turn me around and the wonderful
      hands began to rework all the muscles I'd reknotted so quickly.

      "Good sense of smell, good instincts, and basic biology. Don't worry."

      I twisted my head around to look at him hopefully--come to think of it, I'd
      just gotten off my period. I restrained myself from asking if he'd picked
      that up as well. Some things I didn't want to know.

      "You're absolutely sure?"

      "Absolutely sure." He paused for a second, working the middle of my back
      and I moaned softly in relief. "We'll be more careful."

      "Okay." I'd take it on faith. I'd also run a blood sample through
      Jeannie's lab--I'd get Kitty to help me out. It just didn't seem like a
      good idea for me to try and go to Jeannie's lab myself.

      "Marie, take off the collar for awhile."

      I frowned a little, trying to twist around again. Logan patted me on the
      back and got up, going to the dresser and picking up his gloves.

      "I don't--"

      "Marie, can you even walk?"

      Oooh, good question. At some point today, I might need to walk. Couldn't
      imagine a damn thing that could make me leave this bed, but, well, it could
      happen. Frowning, I nodded reluctantly and he tossed me the key I'd left
      on the coffee table. Absently, I slipped it into the lock and let the
      collar fall off, wondering why Logan had put on his gloves and was reaching
      for his shirt--

      "Marie, listen--"

      Something hot tingled through me and my vision went dark--oh damn.

      My entire body convulsed in shock, as my skin came back on with a
      vengeance, and a burning spread down every muscle of my body as
      invulnerability tried to catch up with the damage. I tried to breathe
      through it but couldn't even control the jerks of my body, before I felt
      something large and quite strong bear down on my wrists and shoulders.
      Strength was flowing back, but there was no control, and I wondered if I'd
      hurt him without even meaning to.

      After endless minutes of pain-filled darkness, I slowly emerged into full
      consciousness to see Logan still straddling my body--shit, I could have
      seriously hurt him.

      "You okay?" he asked, and I nodded numbly. Logan eased his grip on my
      wrists and sat back on his heels, still over my waist.

      "Are you?" I sat up, almost colliding with him, and looked him over
      frantically. "Shit, sugar, I could have--I'm stronger than you and my
      skin--"

      "Don't worry." Logan shook his head, dismissing my fears and cupping my
      face. "I've handled post-collar shock before. I was gonna warn you--" he
      ran his fingers over my face. "Extended periods of time has some weird
      fucking effects. Just lay down for a while--you might begin to itch a
      little. 'Stique was clawing her own skin during the worst of it."

      I felt myself begin to tremble a little and Logan pressed me back, lowering
      himself down beside me and wrapping me up in the sheet carefully before his
      arms gently circled me, pulling me against him.

      "That was after weeks, though. You'll be fine. If you feel itching, take
      a shower." Gently, he stroked my hair back. "Effects should wear off in
      less than an hour, so don't worry."

      "Okay." I snuggled back against him, getting slightly sleepy--there was a
      light itching, but nothing I couldn't handle and almost subliminal. "I'm
      fine, sugar."

      "Go to sleep." Another stroke of my face, before rolling me onto my other
      side and drawing me close. Shutting my eyes, I snuggled carefully against
      his covered chest as his hands slid comfortingly over my back.


      * * * * *

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      *****

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