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Fic: Every Noisy Inch [Rogue/Logan-Rated:R-Sequel to "I Don't Approve"]

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  • D. Die
    Title: Every Noisy Inch Author: Diebin E-Mail: diebin@diebin.com Rating: R for innuendo, language, themes, and Nancy s SexTalk(tm) Sequel to: I Don t Approve
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 3, 2000
      Title: Every Noisy Inch
      Author: Diebin
      E-Mail: diebin@...
      Rating: R for innuendo, language, themes, and Nancy's SexTalk(tm)
      Sequel to: "I Don't Approve" http://www.diebin.com/fic/idontapprove.html
      Summery: Sequel to "I Don't Approve". Just what /are/ Logan and Marie doing
      when they're making all those noises?
      Archive: If I've said yes before, I'll say yes again. If I haven't--ask me.
      I'm easy.
      Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox. Bah Humbug.

      SPECIAL NOTE: Several phrases in here were taken from "Nancy's Book of
      Things Rogue and Logan Should Scream in Bed" The following quotes I
      attribute to her, with due thanks: "Oooh, Logan--growl for me. C'mon, big
      man--growl!" "You're hairy like an animal!" and "Oooh, Logan--make me, ohhh,
      make me a WOMAN Logan!" This story would not be what it is without her. It
      was two pages long when she got ahold of it--now look at it. GO NANCY! :)


      It was innocent at first. After I figured out how well Marie could feel my
      mouth through a smooth silk sheet, I couldn't help but do it over and over,
      driving sounds from her lips that she'd never made before. It was addictive,
      listening to those sounds that she was making for me alone.

      It was only after the third time that I realized Scott could hear us.

      He wasn't real obvious about it. But the appraising looks he'd give me every
      time I so much as set foot out of my room made me suspect . . . and then
      there was the time when I wandered out into the hallway to get Marie a drink
      after a particuarly . . . noisy . . . incident--and he was standing there
      staring at our door and glaring.

      It was two in the morning, so I figured he wasn't just passing by.

      It started to be a game after that. Rogue was sitting around looking over
      her homework for her 'attend from home' college one day when she heard the
      door slam shut next door, and Scott's angry voice complaining about

      She looked at me with this strange little smile I couldn't even decipher,
      and then threw back her head and groaned, "Oh, Logan!"

      I blinked. Homework usually doesn't get her quite that worked up.

      She stood up from her chair and stalked towards the bed, stopping at the
      foot with her hands on her hips. "Logan, oh /God/ Logan . . ."

      To be honest--right then I didn't have any clue what she was doing. If this
      was some new form of pick-up line, I really wanted to know where she was
      getting it from.

      "LOGAN! YES!"

      I propped myself up on my elbow and tried to give her a serious glare--the
      kind that is supposed to make quell all that anxious bubbly young woman

      Instead she bounced onto the bed and stood up, balancing carefully as she
      planted her feet on either sides of my legs. "Oh, Logan--that's it. Right
      there Logan, right . . . THERE!"

      And she started jumping, the little fool.

      With the bed a rattling and banging into the wall--the wall that bordered
      onto Scott's room--I suddenly figured out exactly what she was trying to do.

      She was trying to get me castrated, apparently. Scotty boy was /not/ going
      to like this.

      "Harder, Faster, Harder, Faster!" she chanted, still bouncing. "Oooh, Logan,
      you're so gooood."

      "Marie--" She was seriously going to get me killed. But then again--I wasn't
      exactly immune to the site of her bouncing around like that. She was just
      wearing a tight little t-shirt and her gloves . . . and the sight of her
      jumping up and down was just enough to distract me into my downfall.

      She plopped down to the bed suddenly, her knees on either side of my body as
      she sat on my stomach. Crossing her arms over her chest she stared down at
      me with a wide grin before tossing her hair back and waving her head around.
      "Oooh, Logan--growl for me. C'mon, big man--growl!"

      I'm not sure if it was the way she was bouncing, the way she was sitting, or
      the way all that hair was flying around and distracting the hell out of
      me--but the chuckle that bubbled out turned into a ragged growl as she
      plopped her hands down on my shoulders and gave me a nice flash of cleavage.

      The minute that growl left my lips--all hell broke loose. Marie was tossing
      about and screaming crazy things--though where, "You're hairy like an
      animal!" and "Oooh, Logan--make me, ohhh, make me a WOMAN Logan!" came from
      . . . I really didn't want to know.

      And then she started purring like a cat. I nearly swallowed my tongue trying
      not to laugh, but she just grinned and before I knew it, she'd pulled me
      right into the show. I grunted and groaned a few times, and growled on
      command like any well-trained toy . . .

      Funny thing is--after a while of making all those noises, we both kinda
      trailed off into actually doing the stuff to /cause/ the noises . . . and we
      didn't really make them anymore. We're usually a lot more quiet than that.
      Probably has to do with all the concentration that goes into making love to
      someone whose skin you can't really touch.

      Didn't matter much though--we'd done the damage. The look Scott gave us the
      next day was priceless. It was so priceless that when Marie was sitting
      brushing her hair, staring out the window, I sprawled out on our bed and
      started my own little show.

      Okay, so I'm not as good at improvising random things to call out . . . but
      I'm really good at growling.

      There's a fine art to growling. Most men will never get a real growl off in
      their entire pathetic lives--but I happen to be the leading expert on it in
      this day and age. And it's a nice thing to be able to do--since I've never
      seen anything melt a woman faster.

      A real growl starts deep in the chest and rumbles up. If you growl when
      you've got someone pressed against you, they should be able to feel it.
      Feeling the way it rumbles is part of a growl--but if you're really good at
      it you can get 'em from across the room, just by hearing it.

      Worked pretty well on Marie if I do say so myself. She got this wide eyed
      look on her face and started gettin' a little flushed. And since I can hear
      that sort of thing, I could tell her heart was startin' to pound and her
      breathing was a little off.

      She looked eyes with me and started to whimper. I growled a little louder,
      and she tilted her head back and let out a low moan. "Please, Logan--"

      I wasn't too sure if she was saying it for play or for real--but the look in
      her eyes when she tilted her head back down said it all.

      I really needed to start growling more if this was the affect it had on her.

      It was different than the night before. Before it was all play and absurd
      and joking--but now it was something else. All this noise was actually
      starting to get kind of . . . well . . . exciting.

      Marie got up and wandered across the room, her eyes never leaving mine, and
      next thing I knew we were wrapped up around each other, and hands were
      everywhere and I was growling and she was purring and begging and getting
      louder by the second--and so was I, damn it.

      Didn't care much though, when her gloved hands started running along my
      skin, and I felt her lips through my shirt just below my neck . . . and then
      there were clothes flying all over the place and touching and moaning and
      screaming and begging and purring . . .

      I don't think I've ever made so much noise in my life, to tell you the
      truth. God it was good though--and from the dazed look in Marie's eyes
      afterwards, I don't think she'd disagree with me there.

      The next day, I was really glad Scott wore glasses. I think he woulda shot
      me half way down the hallway with the glare he was giving me, all powers

      Jean laughed at me when she saw me, and I winked. But from then on out, the
      less we were touching each other, the more noisy Marie and I got--and half
      the time those noisy little sessions led to even more noisy post-sessions .
      . . I'm really surprised that people in other wings didn't start
      complaining, to tell you the truth.

      I don't think anyone's ever had a healthier sex life though.

      Sometimes we'd sit around and have contests, just for the hell of it. I'm
      not quite sure what the judging standards were, but whoever came up with the
      most creative noises always got the same prize--a repeat performance with a
      little . . . partner encouragement, so to speak.

      Then there was the night when we actually weren't playing games with Scott's
      head . . . but I guess we were kinda used to gettin' loud because that's
      what we did. Got a little too loud, I guess, and the next thing I knew a
      book hit the wall right next to my head.

      First I was pissed. Instincts don't die easy, and having someone . . .
      interrupt . . . my entertainment is not something I take lightly. I was
      snarling at the wall and all ready to march in there and give Cyke a piece
      of my mind . . .

      And Marie started giggling

      Kind of strange little bed games we like to play, but then--whoever said bed
      games were normal when the ones playing them are a woman who kills with her
      skin and a man with foot long metal claws.

      It's great being mutant.

      Jean knows all about our little game, and I think she's in on it with us,
      though she'd never admit it. She grins at me whenever she sees me, and winks
      at Rogue, and sometimes, when she'd chiding Scott for being so uptight, she
      raises her voice enough so we can hear her.

      Sometimes I pause and look at myself, curled up on a bed with a girl I can't
      really touch in my arms, giggling like I was twelve years old over a stupid
      joke that shouldn't even amuse me. I have to shake my head--a few years ago
      I wouldn't be caught dead like this, and now I can't imagine anything else.

      It's our little secret though. Me and Marie and Scott and Jean . . . I've
      never said anything, but I know they won't ever out me. Marie loves my
      reputation as a growling, ruthless hard-ass. It just gives her even /more/
      of a reputation . . . the woman who tamed the beast.

      Jean just thinks we're cute. I almost hit her the first time when she said
      it . . . but that twinkle in her eye is too damn endearing.

      I still don't know why Scott hasn't told everyone he sees that I'm a big
      pathetic softie now. Maybe he's just afraid Jean'll kick 'im outta bed if he
      pisses her off.

      So Marie and I spend our evenings cuddling up, and our nights annoying the
      hell outta Scotty boy, because really . . . I have to keep my hand in
      somehow. And Marie would kick /me/ outta bed if I did it by trying to flirt
      with Jean.

      Like I need to anyway, now that I've got Rogue. Every noisy inch of her.


      Darth Diebin
      Loyal Bodyguard to the President of PETS
      -=People for the Ethical Treatment of Scott=-
      Keeper of all of Her Own Fic

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