Fic: Flirtation 101: 4/4: R-NC-17: L/R
- Okay, the smut muse dropped in unexpectedly, so the littlies may want to stop reading, or skip the very, very end. It's kind of tame smut, but just to be safe, there's smut, so read at your own risk.... <G>
Disclaimers etc. in Part 1
< > indicates thoughts
The next few days passed uneventfully.
Rogue met with Logan in the mornings after the special self-defense classes he'd instituted, then with Remy for short stints in the afternoons. She could tell Logan was getting antsy about the amount of time she spent with the Cajun, and was hopeful that he'd soon come right out and tell her how he felt, so she could stop this charade, which was starting to wear on her nerves.
She'd always been a fairly straightforward person, and having to act like she was pining for Remy now that she'd realized she was in love with Logan was hard. Especially when Patrice kept shooting her nasty looks and Logan became moodier every day.
Then, one morning about three days before the gala, Patrice showed up at their early morning class with Logan. Kitty and Jubilee had made sure she knew how much time Rogue was spending with Remy, and Patrice finally felt the need to enact her own form of revenge by flirting outrageously with Logan.
She wore spandex, of course -- pink and purple, with her hair pulled back into a perky ponytail and her boobs popping out of her leotard. Rogue growled at the way she pranced around, smiling at Logan and asking him to help her out whenever she didn't understand something.
Kitty and Jubilee exchanged glances. Perhaps they'd miscalculated and Rogue wanted Logan after all.
Rogue, meanwhile, had one last card she intended to play before she folded and told Logan what was really going on.
She was sitting on his bed that night, drowsing in front of the Yankees' game when she decided to shake things loose.
He grunted in response, wrapped up in yet another cheesy thriller.
"What if Remy wants to kiss me?" The question was asked with such artful innocence that Rogue was mentally awarding herself an Academy Award and almost missed Logan's reply.
"What?" he barked, dropping his book.
"You know, what if he wants to kiss me? I haven't kissed anybody since David," here she cast her eyes down and looked up at him through her lashes, "and I don't know how we could do it, what with my skin and all." She frowned then, suddenly serious, because she honestly *hadn't* really thought about it that much, and she wondered what to do.
Logan looked at her worried face and sighed. He'd been thinking about kissing her far too often for comfort, and twice-daily sessions with his hand in the shower weren't satisfying him when he knew she was right down the hall, ready and waiting... for the Cajun.
And she looked damned fine in her tight jeans and little white tee shirt, her black leather gloves accentuating the delicate strength of her arms.
"He'll probably just use your scarf," he said finally.
She plucked at the sheer blue material nervously. "Like this?" she asked, pulling it over her lips and puckering exaggeratedly.
"You know that ain't how people kiss, Marie," he said. "Stop being silly."
She stuck her lower lip out, arousing in him the very strong desire to demonstrate proper kissing technique with her.
When she said, "Show me," he groaned. Who was he to argue?
He leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly to hers. It was an extremely chaste kiss, and it still sent a shock of electricity through them both.
He pulled back, his breathing ragged. "That's how he should kiss you on the first date. Anything more than that and he's stepping over the line." <Yeah, in 1923, maybe,> but he didn't let that thought show on his face.
"Really?" She was skeptical. "Can you show me again?"
He bit back a groan, and leaned into her again. This time, the scarf was already damp from her breath, and he could feel the soft warmth of her lips molding and clinging to his. Her mouth opened slightly and he felt her tongue graze lightly over his lips, and he was lost.
Growling low in his throat, he threaded one hand through her hair as he slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers through the wispy fabric.
Her hands slid through his hair, then anchored onto his shoulders, drawing him closer until he was practically lying on top of her. Her knees parted naturally and he moved between them, his groin aching as he rocked into her, feeling her heat even through their clothing.
He dragged his lips over her jaw and up to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, nipping lightly with his teeth.
"Logan," she moaned, arching her body into him and breaking him out of the daze of desire that had rapidly taken over.
Still breathing heavily, he rolled off her and stood. Without looking at her, he said, "If he tries that, hit him."
She blinked, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask what the hell he was talking about, when it all came flooding back -- Remy, the plan, everything.
Even after throwing herself at him, he still thought she wanted someone else. She whispered, "Yeah," and left his room, willing herself not to cry until she was safe in her own bed.
Kitty and Jubilee found her there a little while later, still sniffling into her pillow.
"Oh, chica, what's wrong?" Jubilee asked. "Tell Kitty and Jubi what's got you down."
And the whole story poured out, how she'd realized she was still in love with Logan, and Remy was helping her make him jealous.
"But, but he's not interested. He -- every time I think something is happening, he brushes it off like it means *nothing*, it's just a, a *lesson*," she sobbed.
Her friends looked at each other, and realized they might need some help on this one.
Soon, Jean, Storm and Remy were gathered in her bedroom and plotting to make Logan admit his feelings to Rogue.
Scott stopped in looking for his wife, listened to the intricate plans they were making, and said, "Why not just tell him how you feel?"
"Be quiet, Scott," Jean said. "If this doesn't work, Rogue. Nothing will. Logan's the jealous type, definitely."
"Do you really think starting off a relationship by plotting is a good thing?" Scott tried again.
"Scott," Jean warned.
"I'm just saying--"
"Don't," his wife replied.
He sighed. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when the plan backfires."
This time, they all said it. "Scott!"
He walked away, shaking his head.
The next morning, Rogue pulled at her gloves nervously. She smoothed her hair back, licked her lips, and knocked on Logan's door.
"Some workout this morning," she started, after settling herself on the bed. He grunted. He was reading again, this time, a dog-eared biography of Abe Lincoln that looked like it had been around since the Civil War.
She took a deep breath and said, "Remy asked me to go to the gala with him tomorrow night as his date. I know it's short notice, but now you can go with someone else if you want, because you won't be stuck going with me. I know you can find someone -- probably even have someone in mind, right? Anyway, that's what we were working for, right? I mean, it worked. I hope that's okay." She ran out of air and stopped, gasping.
He blinked and looked up at her. "Breathe, Marie."
"So, is it okay?" she pressed, crossing her fingers behind her back and hoping against hope that he'd say no, it wasn't okay, she was his date and he wasn't letting her go with Remy.
"Is that what you want?"
<No! No! I want you,> she thought. "I guess. I mean, yeah."
"I don't want to get in the way of what you want, kid." And he went back to his book, dismissing her completely.
She left, dragging herself down the hall in defeat. She collapsed in the library, a place she knew she could be alone without interruption.
She'd just curled up in one of the leather armchairs to have a good cry when she heard, "I told you it wouldn't work."
"Shut up, Scott," she said without turning around.
"You need to be honest, Rogue. Lying and plotting never got anybody anywhere but broken-hearted. Believe me."
She looked up at him, her eyes and nose red from crying. "It was supposed to be fun. And anyway, he obviously doesn't care about me that way. He didn't even look up from that stupid book he was reading when I told him."
"What did you tell him?" Scott asked gently.
"I-- I told him I wanted to go with Remy."
"Well, the thing about Logan is, for all his faults, he's a pretty noble guy, you know?" Scott sat in the chair next to her and took one of her hands. "If he thinks you're happy, he's not going to interfere."
That set off another round of sobs. "I r-really screwed everything up, didn't I?"
Scott bit his lip, then, "You can still fix it. You just have to convince him that you were lying before, but you're telling the truth *now*." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "This isn't kid stuff, Rogue. You can't play with people's feelings. You want a relationship with an adult, you have to behave like an adult."
She smiled sadly. "It's so much easier to be a kid sometimes."
He gave her hand one last squeeze and left her alone to figure out how to tell Logan that she loved him.
After crying until she was nauseous, she decided to spend her day more productively. She had things to do if she was going to convince Logan she was in love with him.
Logan flung the book against the wall as soon as Rogue's footsteps faded.
It was only through a supreme effort of will that he didn't unsheathe the claws and wreck his bedroom.
He could do this. He could. He was the Wolverine. He cared for no one and nothing. He would gut it out through this ridiculous gala, just to make sure Remy behaved, and then he was gone. He was shaking the dust of this freaky place from his boots and going back to Canada, where he didn't have to see the woman he loved draped over that Cajun bastard.
He tore off on the motorcycle and didn't come back until the next morning, and suddenly, Scott's stupid story about how he and Jean got together made sense.
Unfortunately, it wasn't going to work out for him. Rogue had flat-out told him she wanted Remy. He sighed, feeling the alcohol wear off as his healing factor dealt with it. Sometimes he hated being a mutant, because right then, he wanted nothing more than oblivion, but what he got was a dining room full of chattering kids, excited about the evening's event.
He stiffened as he caught Marie's scent, and almost ran when she slid into the seat next to him.
She ate her cereal silently, her arm occasionally brushing against his, making him hyperaware of her body, her scent, the way her lips wrapped around the spoon as she ate.
<Get a grip,> he told himself. <Stop staring at her like a lovesick teenager and say something.>
"So you did it, huh?"
Rogue's smile shone brightly. "Yup. With your help, of course." She laid a delicate gloved hand on his arm. "I couldn't have done it without you, Logan. I never would have thought of half the stuff you told me. Remy never knew what hit him."
He grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging one shoulder uncomfortably. Marie was a beautiful girl. She shouldn't have had to change to get the Cajun interested. Hell, any man should be happy Marie gave him the time of day -- she shouldn't have had to be wearing leather and lip gloss in the bargain.
He realized he'd lost the thread of the conversation when she said, "You'll still help me, right, sugar?"
"Uh, yeah, sure, kid," he replied, uncertain of what he'd just agreed to, and cursing himself for the day he told her to use the endearment. <Dammit,> he thought, <that's what she's supposed to call *me*, not every jackass who comes sniffing around.>
"Okay, then. Come to my room at around six. It'll take me a while to get ready." She bounced excitedly in the chair, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on certain parts of his anatomy.
"For my big date."
The door to her room was flung open before he even had a chance to knock.
"Come on in, Logan," she said. She was wrapped in a towel. Two towels, actually. One around her body, barely covering her, and one like a turban around her head. He was in hell. Sheer, bloody hell. "Sit on the bed, sugar. I'll be right out and then we can start." She headed back to the bathroom and he heard her brushing her teeth.
Somehow, he'd missed the part of the conversation where she told him she'd be prancing around naked while he watched her get ready to go out with another man.
This had really gotten out of hand. What had started as a friendly lesson in flirtation had turned serious, at least on his part, and now she was going to use everything he'd taught her to enthrall *Gambit.* It was almost more than he could bear.
She came out of the bathroom and reached into her dresser drawer. "Kitty, Jubes and I went shopping," she said cheerfully. "Which color do you like better?" She held up three pairs of -- good God, they couldn't be panties. Scraps of brightly colored silk. Red, green and black.
"Green," he choked out.
"Green it is!" She turned her back to him and dropped the towel. He made strangling noises as she stepped into the bikinis. "You okay, Logan?" she asked, turning to face him, bra in hand.
"Christ on a crutch, Marie!" he finally managed. "Put some damn clothes on!"
She blinked. "I'm sorry," she said after the silence had stretched a little too long. "I forgot -- I didn't think you were afraid-- I--"
<Shit, shit, shit.> "It ain't that, kid -- Marie." <Shit. I gotta stop calling her kid. No wonder she thinks I'm not interested. And a year, two years ago, I wouldn't have been. But damn, she's grown up now, and no doubt about it.> "I just, I don't think you should be naked around men. I mean, men who aren't me. I mean--" He was tangled up in the sentence, and even he wasn't sure what he meant at that point.
She raised an eyebrow. "I don't see anyone else in here, Logan."
<And thank God for that,> he thought. He could just imagine the ruckus ol' One-Eye would cause if his little pet was found naked with the big, bad Wolverine. Though maybe not, if that talk in the garage had been any indication. Not to mention the smirks he'd have to endure from Jean and 'Ro. Dammit. Why were those women always laughing at him? He couldn't figure it out and it was really starting to piss him off.
"You and Remy, you mean," she said.
"What?" He was still lost in his own thoughts.
"I shouldn't be naked in front of anyone but you and Remy. I mean, the whole point of all this is to get the point where Remy wants to see me naked, right?" She put a finger to her lips, still holding the bra in the other hand. "Though I suppose once I get naked with Remy, he's not gonna want me doing it with you, too." She walked over to where he sat on the bed and leaned forward, her full breasts so tantalizingly close to his gloved hands. "So what's it gonna be, Logan? You, or Remy?"
He blinked. "What?"
"I know you heard me just fine, Wolvie," she tried out the nickname with a breathy voice, "but I'll repeat it one more time, just for the record. Do you want me to get naked with you or with Remy?"
He looked into the deep brown eyes; they were so full of love and trust, but he could smell her anxiety. She was afraid he'd reject her. <I'm no genius, but I'm not stupid,> he thought.
"Me," he answered. "Just me."
"Then you have to promise the same thing."
"So we'll only get naked with each other?" he asked. "Just to clarify."
"That's what I'm proposing," she said, nodding.
"I could definitely go for that. Definitely," he repeated, pulling a scarf from the bedpost and lassoing her to draw her toward him.
The kiss was everything she could have wished for, deep and tender, and rapidly growing passionate as his hands wandered over her mostly nude body.
She broke away to whisper, "I never wanted Remy. Right from that first day we went shopping, it was you. It was always you."
He rolled them over so he was on top, strategically placing the scarf over her body so he could nuzzle at her neck while his hands teased her nipples into hard little buds.
"You did a good job of hidin' it, darlin'."
"I know. I'm sorry."
He took her mouth in a searing kiss, then murmured, "Let's forget about that now, Marie. We got better things to do."
He inhaled her scent as his gloved hands pushed the green silk panties down her legs, and she used her feet to get them off the rest of the way.
"Is this safe?" she asked breathlessly, concern for him overwhelming desire for a moment as he lowered his mouth to one of her nipples.
"I'll be careful, Marie," he answered, raising his head from where he'd been suckling at her breast.
As her body arched to his mouth, his fingers slipped into her wet sex, stroking gently, circling her clit until she was moaning and panting his name.
"Come on, baby. Come for me," he rasped, as she cried out and white-hot pleasure swept through her body. He held her as she shuddered and then deftly undid his jeans and rolled on a condom. "This might hurt a little," he whispered in her ear as he slowly buried himself in her tight, hot passage. She stiffened a little, but then, after a few moments to get used to the feel of him inside her, she nodded. He began moving, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt her, his eyes locked with hers and never wavering.
He told her he loved her and had been dreaming of her for months; he told her she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he wanted to be with her forever. He told her that she was his and he was hers, and when she growled, "Mine," in his ear, he came with an explosive force that surprised even him.
Rogue and Logan were late to the Labor Day Gala. It was only through absorbing a bit of his healing touch that she made it at all; she wouldn't have been able to walk, otherwise.
When they entered, everyone stopped to look at the dark, handsome man in his olive green Armani suit, and the stunning woman on his arm.
Rogue wore an emerald green cheongsam, covered in white and gold embroidery. The skirt stopped a good three inches above the knee and her legs were covered in the sheerest pantyhose she'd been able to find. Her face was flushed and her lips swollen, and she had eyes for no one but Logan.
Scott sat at a table in the back, gleefully counting his winnings.
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