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Fic: A Fistful of Dollars: 1/1: L/R: NC-17

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  • victoria_p@att.net
    Title: A Fistful of Dollars Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net] Summary: There she stood, covered neck to knees in a black leather coat and holding a
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 5, 2003
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      Title: A Fistful of Dollars
      Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
      Summary: "There she stood, covered neck to knees in a black leather coat and
      holding a magnum of champagne."
      Rating: NC-17
      Disclaimer: Shyeah, right. I own them. I do. ::rolls eyes::
      Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool.
      Feedback: Don't make me beg.
      Notes: Thanks to Jen, Dot, Meg and Pete'n'Melissa. For DD, who wanted damp!
      Logan money-porn and turned the beta around in record time.
      Date: February 5, 2003

      ~*~

      A Fistful of Dollars

      Still damp from the shower, Logan stretched out against the pillows and cracked
      his neck. He ignored the no-smoking sign on the back of the door, and lit a
      cigar. There was a beer on the night table, and if this job was like the others
      he'd run for Campbell, at least one, and possibly even two, hot babes would be
      joining him shortly.

      As he counted out the wad of cash that was his payment, enjoying the crisp feel
      of new hundred dollar bills against the pads of his fingers, he thought about
      how abruptly he'd left Westchester. He and Rogue had been scheduled to go out,
      and he knew she was circling around, getting ready to have A Talk.

      Logan wasn't ready for A Talk, and he certainly wasn't going to be snookered
      into it by Rogue. They'd spent a lot of time together over the past couple of
      years. Once or twice they'd even crossed the line from friendship, usually
      after missions or a few too many shots of tequila. But they'd never gone beyond
      a few heated groping sessions, and their friendship hadn't changed. They each
      dated other people, and if he thought she'd made some crappy boyfriend choices,
      he really wasn't quite ready to step up to the plate himself in that regard, so
      he'd stopped complaining about it.

      He refused to feel even vaguely guilty about the fact that he'd pretty much run
      out on her, scared that she was going to force him into talking about his
      feelings (which he would barely admit to having, even to himself) and was now
      contemplating a night of hot sex with a strange woman.

      Dammit, he was the Wolverine and he wasn't in love with a slip of a girl with
      velvet brown eyes and platinum streaks, and a body that could stop traffic.

      He wasn't, despite the way he couldn't stop touching her when they were
      together and couldn't stop thinking about her when they were apart.

      He was going to have a good time tonight. He was going to get laid and he was
      going to enjoy it, because it had been a damned long time, the longest he'd
      ever gone, and it was unnatural. He'd spent more time recently with his right
      hand than a grown man should.

      His body was ready, willing and able to have a good time tonight, and if his
      suddenly active conscience tried to stop him, he wouldn't be responsible for
      the consequences.

      There was a knock on the door and he could hear giggling on the other side.
      This was going to be good. He put the money on the table -- he certainly didn't
      want to start the evening out on the wrong foot, by mentioning business before
      pleasure, and he knew Campbell would have already taken care of the girls
      anyway.

      As he sauntered to the door, he caught a scent that made him think of Rogue. He
      pushed those thoughts away -- he was smelling her everywhere, and it had to
      stop -- and opened the door.

      And there she stood, covered neck to knees in a black leather coat and holding
      a magnum of champagne. There was a blonde with her -- the giggler -- who
      said, "Campbell sends his thanks," and then disappeared down the hallway in a
      cloud of Aqua Net and cheap perfume.

      He crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here, Rogue?"

      "I could ask you the same thing," she said, pushing past him into the room and
      setting the champagne on the dresser, "but I think it's kind of obvious."

      She looked him up and down and he remembered suddenly that he was naked. He
      felt the tips of his ears burn.

      "No need to be embarrassed, sugar." Again her eyes moved over him, slower this
      time, and her gaze lingered on his cock, already hard and getting harder by the
      second. "We're all friends here, right?"

      He was still trying to think of something to say when she began slowly
      unbuttoning the black leather jacket covering her. He found his eyes riveted to
      her gloved hands, his breath becoming more ragged with each movement of her
      fingers.

      One, two, three buttons and he could see sheer, dark fabric against her skin.
      The fourth button opened and she sinuously slid the coat from her body.

      She wore nothing but a sheer black lace body stocking and a pair of high-heeled
      shoes. The scent of her arousal hit him like a ton of bricks, and he thought he
      was going to embarrass himself.

      "This isn't a good idea--"

      She splayed a hand against his chest, the soft silk of her glove magnifying the
      warmth of her palm, making it difficult for him to breathe. He couldn't seem to
      get enough oxygen, or maybe it was simply that all his blood had run south.

      "Oh, I think it is," she said, but he could barely hear her over the thudding
      of his heart in his ears. She pushed him lightly and he sat down on the bed,
      still too overwhelmed to resist.

      She slipped down onto the floor between his knees and grasped his cock in one
      gloved hand while using the other to pull something out of her cleavage. He was
      too distracted to really notice what it was.

      The feel of warm silk rubbing against him made his eyes roll back in his head.
      He didn't think he'd ever felt anything quite so good.

      Until she wafted the scarf over his dick and took him in her mouth.

      "Fuck." The word burst from him like a bullet from a gun. He thought he could
      die happy, because *this* was obviously what heaven would feel like -- slick,
      wet heat engulfing him, sending bursts of pleasure through his body. She
      responded by humming deep in her throat.

      He slid his hands into her hair -- he wanted to warn her he was going to come --
      and she raised her eyes to meet his for a moment. Then she gave a wicked grin
      and sucked even harder, swirling her tongue over the slit in the head.

      He came with a roar, forgetting to be polite or think of her in the blaze of
      white-hot pleasure that consumed him. He was amazed she didn't choke on the
      scarf.

      He was still trembling when she climbed into his lap, grinning like a Cheshire
      cat. She wrapped one hand around his neck and with the other pulled another
      scarf out of her cleavage. She used it to cover his face. Settling a leg on
      either side of his thighs, she leaned forward and kissed him, hard.

      "Marie," he managed, hands automatically going to her hips to guide her as she
      rocked against him. "We shouldn't--"

      "Oh, yes we should, Logan. And we just did, so it's a little late *now* to have
      qualms, okay? So just shut up unless you have something interesting to say."

      He could do that. Again she captured his lips with hers, and he forgot his
      objections.

      She wriggled against him and he was hard again, almost instantaneously. He
      wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything, up to and including the keys to
      his past. Hell, someone could have walked in at that moment and offered him his
      memory and his life back, and he would have told them to get the fuck out.

      He needed to be inside her. Now. His whole body demanded it.

      He slipped a hand between them, and found that the bodysuit she wore was
      already open at the crotch.

      "Careful, Logan," she murmured, taking his earlobe between her teeth. "Don't
      want you in a coma *before* you come."

      She opened her hand; he saw the little foil packet and sighed in relief.
      Because the condoms were in his wallet, and his wallet was in his jeans, which
      were hanging on the towel rack in the bathroom, and there was no way in fucking
      hell he was getting off the bed until both he and Rogue had gotten off.
      Numerous times.

      "Oh, thank God," he muttered, as she tore the packet open and eased the condom
      onto his cock.

      She knelt above him and oh so slowly began lowering herself onto him. He
      growled at the way she teased, rubbing herself against the head and then
      raising up again, only to lower herself down a little more, and tighten her
      muscles around him.

      He felt like his whole body was on fire and his hands clutched at her
      hips. "Tease," he grunted.

      "Oh, you love it," she answered, slipping her hand between them and touching
      herself. She then offered her glistening fingers to him, and he licked each
      silk-clad digit slowly. She moaned and arched her back, presenting him with an
      irresistible view of full, round breasts.

      He took one peaked nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, wringing another moan
      from her. While she was so distracted, he thrust his hips, finally burying
      himself to the hilt in her tight, wet heat.

      "Logan," she said in a long, drawn-out purr, and he thought he could get very
      used to hearing his name said that way. And to making her say it, just like
      this.

      "Yeah, baby," he whispered, before moving his attentions to her other breast.
      She clenched her muscles around him, increasing the friction. "Just like that,
      Marie. So good, so hot, so tight."

      "I want you so much," she murmured, sliding her fingers through his
      hair. "Can't you feel how much I want you?"

      "Want you too," he said, and he could tell she was starting to lose control.
      She bucked against him wildly, eyes closed, head thrown back, breasts
      bouncing. "Come on, darlin'. Come for me."

      Her hands clutched at his shoulders as the orgasm ripped through her; she
      convulsed around him, pulling him in even deeper, and he followed her over the
      edge. The world exploded into a million shards of white-hot pleasure that began
      at the base of his spine and radiated out through his body.

      He fell back onto the pillows, taking her with him. She arranged herself
      carefully against him and growled when he pulled out to remove the condom.

      "I don't suppose you've got another one," he asked hopefully.

      "In my coat pocket," she said.

      "Oh." He didn't feel like getting up, and she obviously didn't either.

      He felt himself drifting off to sleep, and he hoped this hadn't been a dream.

      He woke suddenly, when cool air brushed over him in the spot where Rogue had
      been curled against him.

      She was bent over the night table, legs straight, ass high in the air, and he
      was immediately ready for round three.

      He got up and walked over to her coat, which lay on the floor. He had only one
      thought in his head, and it required the condoms in her jacket pocket. When he
      straightened, he noticed what she was doing.

      "So this is why you stood me up, huh?" She had the roll of hundred dollar bills
      in her hand. She peeled a couple of bills off the roll. "I'll just take two,
      sugar," she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Is that the going
      rate?"

      Logan knew he was in trouble then. He could feel the icy fingers of panic
      clutching his heart. So he did what he always did on the rare occasions fear
      made itself known to him. He got angry.

      "What the fuck are you talking about, Rogue? What do you think just happened
      here?"

      She turned and looked at him, head cocked. "We had sex."

      He nodded. "Yeah, we did. And it wasn't just sex. It was mind-blowing, heart-
      stopping, earth-shattering sex."

      She raised an eyebrow. "You're just a little too sure of yourself, you know
      that?"

      "It was more than sex. It was you and me and--"

      She crossed her arms over her chest, the skeptical expression still on her
      face. "And?"

      He stopped. He couldn't say the words. He knew he needed to say them, and she
      needed to hear them, but they wouldn't come out. He could practically see the
      light bulb come on over her head as she figured it out. Her eyes lit up.

      "You love me."

      "I do not." And *that* was possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever said. He was
      lucky, though; she ignored it.

      "You're in love with me and you want to be my boyfriend," she said in a
      singsong voice.

      "You're crazy."

      "Well, yeah, 'cause I love you, too."

      And that was it. No one had ever said that to him and meant it. The fear was
      banished by a flood of warmth around his heart. And points south, as well.

      He pulled her into his arms and spun her around once before getting himself
      under control. The money scattered everywhere, raining down like confetti on
      New Year's Eve, but he didn't care.

      He laid her down on the bed and pressed enthusiastic kisses all over her body --
      quick and careful butterfly kisses over her bare lips, and then hot, open-
      mouthed kisses all down her body until he was kneeling between her legs.

      He kissed her ankles one at a time, then her calves, swirled his tongue across
      the backs of her knees while she whimpered and whispered above him, dark hair
      spread like a flag across the white sheets.

      He pressed his lips to the insides of her thighs, reveling in the aroma of her
      arousal, and the fact that she was covered in his scent. Finally, he draped one
      of her scarves over her mound and kissed her there.

      She arched up with a gasped, "Logan!" and he smiled. She overwhelmed his senses
      and for once, he was glad of his mutation. He could hear every gasp, smell
      every minute change in her scent, savor the pungent taste of her desire. He
      lavished attention on her clit, and it didn't take long for her to come,
      twisting and shuddering against his mouth.

      Using his tongue and his fingers, he prolonged her pleasure as long as he
      could. When she was boneless and content, he moved up the bed and lay next to
      her. "I've got the room for the rest of the night."

      "Good." Her eyes were still glazed with bliss; her hands drifted aimlessly over
      his body and he felt a burst of pride that he had been able to make her look
      like that. "I only have three condoms, though."

      "I�ve got a couple in my wallet. And we have plenty of money to buy more."

      "Mmm... 'Kay, but you�re the one who�s going to the gift shop."

      "I think I can do that."

      He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. And then he kissed
      her shoulder, and, through the scarf, her neck. He thought he could be happy
      spending the next, oh, seven days at least, just kissing her.

      When her feather-light touches became more insistent, he stopped her. He
      grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth. "I just want to kiss you for a
      while," he said.

      "That�s awfully mushy for a guy who's not in love," she said, but her smile was
      luminous.

      "Okay, maybe you were right," he whispered.

      "I know," she answered smugly, and he knew she did.

      End

      ~*~

      victoria

      ~*~

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