Title: The Gift
Author: lachlanrose
Disclaimer: Not mine. Clearly, this is an oversight by the universe.
Feedback: Is better than a hot fudge sundae. The good, the bad, the ugly, welcome. Flames may be publicly mocked.
Summary: There's just something about getting away on vacation that makes it easier to give in and do all the things you'd never dream of doing back home…
Author's Notes: This one is a little three part story. Bunnies, bunnies everywhere… It's gonna have the (by now) standard warning: This fic is adult in theme and content. You have been warned. Though I think it's safe to say by now that y'all know what you're getting into. It's me, after all… Heh. The Earth might stop spinning if I wrote something without a citrus grove in it. In any event, this one's a little more on the, ah, edgier/adult side of things, so if you're expecting hearts and flowers, well… exit stage left and try not to look at anything on your way out lest it leaves you scarred for life. A special thanks to doctorg who sorted this one out at the last minute, listened to me whine, and fixed all my screwed up tenses. She's awesome like that.
The Gift
[Marie]
It was the first time we'd gone away together. A week in Montreal. We spent the last morning in bed, talking mostly. My body ached pleasantly from Logan's lovemaking. He woke me twice more in the night and once just as the first gray light of dawn was beginning to filter through the window. I was supposed to be leaving for home in a few hours and he was supposed to be heading back to the school, but we couldn't get enough of each other. He called the school and cleared his schedule for the next three days and then he called the airline and moved my flight home after he'd convinced me to stay with him a little longer.
It really wasn't that difficult a decision to make. We were in the first blush of an intense romance. Neither of us was ready to let go just yet. It was too new, too consuming to bear parting so soon. We ordered up and ate breakfast in bed amid dozens of bruised rose petals from last night when Logan had ripped the petals from a bouquet in our room and thrown them on the bed. They'd tickled as they fluttered around us, clinging to our sweaty bodies. We giggled and flirted and wrestled playfully. That time we broke the teapot. Later, we broke a vase in the bathroom when our loveplay spilled out of the shower to the vanity, and then to the floor when it really got wild.
We emerged from the suite around noon, pink-cheeked and giddy. Logan wanted food. Red meat. Potatoes. Beer. I was mortified at the idea of the cleaners discovering our rose-strewn love nest and the trail of broken glassware, but Logan only laughed and pulled me towards the elevator with a smug grin. He told me he wanted the room cleaned so he could wreck it with me again. I stuck my tongue out at him and told him he still smelled of roses. He shrugged, pinned me to the wall of the elevator and kissed me passionately until we reached the lobby.
After a leisurely lunch, we took a long walk—sightseeing, window shopping, stopping to kiss and touch whenever the mood struck. He kept wanting to buy me things. I kept refusing. I didn't need a gift from him to feel special. I told him so. He gave me a look that quite clearly said I might have won the battle but I hadn't won the war. We walked on, in and out of dozens of little shops. He bought a watch for himself and then in another shop, a box of truffles he told me with a dirty wink were for later.
He bought an extra one, popped it into his mouth and proceeded to kiss me senseless right there in the chocolatier. The shopkeeper said something in a language I didn't understand but Logan lifted his head, grinned widely and said, "Thanks, bub. I'm aimin' to."
My head was still spinning from that amaretto-flavored kiss when he pulled me into a nice jewelry store. We had a bit of fun playing the 'if' game. As in, if I was to buy you something, what would you pick? We'd been playing it since almost the first shop we wandered into. And not just for ourselves. We'd mentally picked out dozens of things for all the people we cared about back at the school.
He stopped in front of a case of exquisite pearl jewelry, everything from simple pearl earrings to elaborate multi-stranded, diamond encrusted pearl chokers.
"Which one?" he murmured against my neck, kissing me lightly.
"For who?"
"For you this time, darlin'."
I took my time deciding, partly because there were so many choices and partly because the longer it took, the more time I got to spend with Logan's arms wrapped around me. I gave him a squeeze. It was just a game, anyway. "Which would you pick?"
His eyes left my neck to wander the case. "That one." He pointed to a choker with three strands of dark beige pearls. They were the color of coffee with cream and had a tinge of rose as well. Very unusual. He whispered in my ear. "Color of your skin when you blush for me." He nuzzled my neck. "Now you pick."
"Those." I pointed to a single strand of pearls on the bottom shelf of the case. Smaller in size than the pearls in the choker he favored, but of the same unusual color.
He smiled. "You gonna let me get ya somethin'?" His tone said he'd already made up his mind. The Wolverine didn't ask permission. I started to protest but he was whispering again. "I wanna." I felt him start to grow hard against my hip. "And I wanna give you a pearl necklace of my own," he breathed into my ear. My whole body shuddered.
"You don't have to buy me anything to do that." The words were out before I could call them back. Logan inhaled sharply and I felt my cheeks heat. I turned and hid my face in his neck. I'd never done that with anyone. To be honest, I'd never even considered it.
His voice was whisper soft. "Lemme give ya both, then." I nodded, unable to find my voice. Logan straightened, but left his arm around me. One look from him and the jeweler, who had been discreetly watching from a distance, came over to us.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"I want those." Logan pointed to the pearls.
The jeweler removed the pearls from the case and set them on the counter for Logan to inspect. He didn't look twice and he didn't ask the price. The man nodded. "Very fine choice, sir. Will the lady be wearing them home?"
Logan's smile widened and he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb over the nape of my neck.
"Nope."
~ooOoo~
[Logan]
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. More shops, more kissin', a long dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall Thai place. Inside their velvet-lined case, the pearls were burnin' a hole in my pocket. I was dyin' to see them on her. Couldn't think of much else. Had a bit of a wrench thrown into my plans when we got back to the hotel though. We were just comin' in the door when Marie's phone went off. Crazy Train. Made me laugh and then groan. We've been together long enough now for me to recognize that ring. That little yellow one's always findin' ways to annoy the shit outta me.
"Mmph." Fuck. I tried not to let my disappointment show. Must have done too good a job because her eyes glowed happily.
"Do you mind, sugar? She promised me she'd only call if it was an emergency. She's in Paris with Remy, so she's either engaged, pregnant, or locked inside the flagship Louboutin store."
The fact that she cared enough to ask me went a long way toward soothin' my ruffled feathers. Besides, there was no way to tell her 'yes' without sounding like a complete dick, even if I did wanna have her all to myself. I didn't wanna share her, even with her little friends. Inside, an absolutely insane irrational spurt of jealousy rose up, red and hot. Clawin' at me. I clenched my teeth and swallowed it down. "Go ahead, baby. I gotta little work to do."
Two fucking hours. I'd already finished what little work I did have, and now I was sittin' out on the balcony in the dark, broodin'. I wanted to smash that goddamn phone of hers. I settled for stalkin' her through the suite for a while until the shrill voices screechin' outta her phone drive me back out to the balcony. But not before I made it damn clear I was done waitin'. Fuck that. This was our trip. Our time. And we didn't have much of it left. I was done sharin' her.
Up next: The Balcony. Logan's not a patient man. He wants what he wants when he wants it — and to hell with the consequences...