Title: Postcards From The Edge
Author: Karen
Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, X2 would be rated NC-17 because Logan and Marie would spend the entire movie shagging. Plot? Who needs a plot?
Pairing: HornyFeralLogan and TeasingVixenMarie
Feedback: Would be appreciated.
Original publication date: June 21, 2002
Summary: Logan is in Canada, but his mind keeps drifting back to Westchester and a certain tempting brunette.
Notes: This fic was inspired by the spoiler for X-Men 2 that Mystique morphs into the different women in Logan's life – I'm assuming in an attempt to get him into bed. This has nothing to do with the book "Postcards From The Edge" by Carrie Fisher or the Meryl Streep movie based on that book – I just liked the title, so I stole…I meant, I borrowed it.
Thanks to my previewers extraordinaire: Terri, Taryn, Leah and Heather. The MasterCard 'moment' is courtesy of Heather.
The Gee-I'm-Flattered mention goes to Heather – whose own fic "No More Words" was inspired by this story.
A big thanks to Nadine for the gorgeous photo creation for this story. Her choice of a Logan sans muttonchops necessitated that I come up with a plausible reason for him shaving them off – I hope you like what I came up with.
Chapter One: The Keeper of the Tag
Logan hadn't been gone even one whole week before he began missing her. He'd never missed anyone before in his whole miserable existence – probably because he'd never encountered anyone worth missing before now. He knew he was in big trouble when his dreams about her had started to edge dangerously towards the erotic. He'd helped himself to one of the photos of her that had been taken right after they'd arrived at the mansion and two weeks into his fact-finding trip he masturbated while looking at it and moaned her name as he climaxed.
Marie.
The abandoned military compound at Alkali Lake had yielded absolutely no information, having long been wiped clean of any evidence of whatever activities had taken place there. Logan decided to go back to Westchester for two reasons – it was the only place in fifteen years he'd felt even the slightest inclination to return to and most importantly, she was there – the one who haunted his dreams. He was inching his way back across Canada following the fight circuit, and while the claw-popping incident in Laughlin City had taken on an 'urban legend' aspect, he wasn't taking any chances and had shaved off his too easily recognizable muttonchops, cut his hair and forsaken using the designation 'Wolverine'. It was now three months later and he'd made his way as far as the not even-big-enough-to-be-on-the-map town of Moose Bluff, in the province of Manitoba. He planned to be there for the next couple of weeks or so as the money from the cage fights at the local redneck bar was better than some of the other dives he'd fought in along the way. He didn't want to return to Westchester and have to rely solely on Charles' charity, so having a decent stash of his own was important to him.
Logan phoned the mansion for his weekly check-in with Marie, but wasn't able to speak to her this time because she'd gone to the mall with her friends. He asked Charles some general questions about her welfare and then casually inquired if she was dating. He tried to sound nonchalant, but blew it when he let out an audible sigh of relief when told that she wasn't currently involved with anyone. He informed Charles that it would probably be a couple more months before he'd be back as the fight circuit was fairly lucrative and he had his eye on a plot of land in Alberta that he'd hoped to buy. Charles then asked him for the address of the over-sized roach motel Logan was currently calling home because he'd obtained some government files that could prove informative and wanted to forward them on to him. The next day a package arrived airborne express – it was a laptop computer containing the procured files. In Charles' enclosed note, he'd even thoughtfully included Marie's email address.
Logan wasted no time getting on-line, establishing an e-mail account and before even opening the files, contacting Marie.
From: owner of the tag at hotmail dot com
To: keeper of the tag at hotmail dot com
Subject: Just checking in
Hey, Kid:
Chuck sent me a laptop. I'm in Moose Bluff or as the locals refer to it, Moose Butt. The phone number here at the 'Buckingham Palace Motel' is 705-555-2950. Yeah, this dump really is called Buckingham Palace – talk about delusions of grandeur! I'm in the 'King George' suite – also known as over-sized closet number five.
Call me, okay? I miss the way you drawl my name.
Logan
The information in the files turned out to be just another military installation that Logan already knew about and had previously checked out, but he e-mailed Charles to thank him anyway.
A few hours later the phone on the nightstand rang.
"Hello," Logan answered, already guessing who was on the other end.
"Logan," a honeyed drawl came through so softly that anyone with normal hearing would've had to strain to hear it.
Logan actually felt his breath hitch at the mere sound of her voice.
"Marie," he practically moaned back.
"So, ya like the way I say your name?" Marie asked, the amusement in her voice plainly evident.
"Yeah," he admitted, "Most people say it like they're pissed off at me, but you always sound like…"
Logan stopped himself, because he couldn't tell her that her voice sounded like he should be paying $3.95 a minute for the privilege of listening to it.
"Like what?" she pressed.
He searched for something safe to say – something not insulting, which resulted in a significant pause.
"Well, if you don't wanna talk…" Marie teased as if she was preparing to hang up on him.
"You sound like one of those phone sex girls," Logan blurted out and then gave himself a mental ass-kicking for being so stupid.
"Wow, is this gonna be an obscene phone call?" she asked with a coquettish inflection he'd forgotten she was capable of producing.
"Yeah, what are you wearing?" The words tumbled out before he had a chance to censor himself.
"Nothing but a black thong and your dogtag," Marie replied willingly playing along, "So, what are you wearing?" she retaliated coyly.
Holy fuck. Logan was sorely tempted to say 'Thanks to that visual, nothing but a hard-on and a smile.' but he'd sufficiently regained enough of his composure to realize they were heading into dangerous territory, so instead he safely answered, "Jeans."
"Just jeans?"
Marie still wanted to play. Apparently she'd forgotten the childhood lesson that it was dangerous to taunt wild animals.
"How old are you?" Logan asked, attempting to change the subject.
"Eighteen next week, why?" she asked mischievously, as if reading his mind.
"I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss your birthday," he bluffed – badly, "What do you want?"
What Logan didn't know was that Marie wanted to tell him that all she really desired for her birthday was for him to come home and find a creative way around her mutation. Instead she safely answered, "How about one of those cheesy souvenir t-shirts that say something like 'My hero went to Canada and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'."
Logan let out a low chuckle and then an image of Marie in just such a t-shirt flickered across his lust-fogged brain. Just the t-shirt – no bra and especially no panties. He swallowed hard and willed his body to behave itself.
"Okay, kid, I'll see what I can rustle up."
"Logan." This time his name came out in a distinctively different lilt – tighter, and definitely not honeyed. "I outgrew being called 'kid' when my boobs grew in."
At that statement Logan was transported back to the day he'd left and the memory of her standing there in the foyer of the mansion giving him his first real good look at some serious Marie-cleavage. He remembered practically hearing the rip as he tore his eyes away – knowing he had to get out of there quickly before he did something completely embarrassing like throwing her down on the highly polished marble floor and ravishing her right on the spot.
He couldn't tell her that he called her 'kid' as a defense mechanism, to stop himself from thinking about her as a potential bedmate. He knew the age of consent in New York was seventeen, but he'd made a private vow to keep his hands off of her until she was eighteen, which apparently was coming up a lot quicker than he was prepared for.
"I know you're not a kid, Marie," he practically whispered, afraid of what verbalizing it would do for his rationalization.
"Good," she replied with just a slight hint of mischievousness.
Logan got the distinct impression that Marie knew exactly what she was doing to him. He rapidly steered the conversation to safer topics and even listened with feigned interest when she detailed her latest mall excursion with Jubilee and Kitty. The casual mention of the shower gel she'd purchased conjured up risqué images of her in the shower, naked except for the fragrant bubbles, and he was so distracted that he almost missed her telling him that she'd been having therapy sessions with the Professor in an effort to control her gift and was making excellent progress – even better than anticipated.
The contemplation of a Marie who was both eighteen and touchable opened up a whole new world of intriguing possibilities. Not that he couldn't be creative if necessary; he just had this insatiable need to have her wrapped around him without any barriers – even if it meant waiting – apparently not as long as he'd originally figured. At that revelation he decided to end the conversation for now because he couldn't bring himself to jerk off while she was still innocently chattering about school. He needed to fantasize about her talking dirty to him, not telling him about Scott's latest lame ass English assignment. And besides, the mere mention of that particular stick-up-the-ass mutant was a guaranteed mood killer.
He told her to stay in touch via e-mail, promised to call again and bid her goodnight.
He'd barely hung up the receiver when he reached down, freed himself from the confines of the tight denim and began stroking himself – images of a soulful-eyed brunette guiding him to completion.
The following night Logan returned to his motel room several thousand dollars richer and for once – alone. Ever since his conversation with Marie the previous night he couldn't stop thinking about what her casual revelations had meant to him. He knew he was in deep when he realized that no bimbo could ever substitute for just a fantasy about her. That he'd prefer to imagine Marie writhing beneath him than have a flesh and blood someone else actually there. He flipped open the laptop and found that he had a message waiting for him.
To: owner of the tag at hotmail dot com
From: keeper of the tag at hotmail dot com
Subject: Mall madness
Hi Logan,
Got dragged to the mall again today – Jubes and Kitty insisted I buy some clothes that would give me some *incentive* to learn control – as if not putting people in a coma wasn't incentive enough *g*
I've attached a pic of me in one of the outfits. I know, I know, Cindy Crawford doesn't have anything to worry about.
Hope you're staying out of trouble.
Love,
Marie
Logan opened the attachment with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. As the picture came up on the small screen he caught his breath – there she was in a come-hither pose, her chestnut and platinum hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, wearing the shortest black leather skirt Logan had ever seen, a skintight black top with a scooped neckline that showed off a generous amount of cleavage and to complete the look a pair of what was commonly referred to as 'fuck me' boots. Logan's jeans immediately tightened and a noise vibrated the room, which he realized was him - growling. As he undid his jeans to relieve some of the pressure he wondered if she was wearing panties under the miniscule skirt and almost came right then and there.
When the phone rang, he hazily picked it up and in a thick voice managed to eek out a greeting.
"Hello."
"Hey, sugar." The honeyed drawl replied and Logan immediately ejaculated.
Unable to speak, Logan covered the mouthpiece so that Marie couldn't hear his labored breathing as he willed himself to calm down.
"I was just checking to see if you got my e-mail," she continued, unaware of the battle Logan was currently waging with his body.
Oh boy, did I. "Uh, yeah, I…'er…was just gonna open it," Logan lied, his voice still shaky despite his best efforts.
"Logan, are you okay? You sound funny," she queried innocently.
"Jogging," he replied, cringing at the weak lie and contemplating jogging to the ice machine for a bucket full of ice to dump on his crotch.
"Jogging? Since when do you jog?" she asked, apparently not buying it – not that he'd expected her to.
"Not actually jogging – I meant I ran out of the bathroom when I heard the phone ring," Logan said as he tried valiantly to save grace, "I was just getting in the shower when you called."
"I just got out of the tub after a nice long soak, so I guess we're both naked," Marie teased.
And with that Logan immediately got hard again.
"Thanks for the visual," he managed to choke out.
"And thank you," she replied coquettishly.
"So, are we heading into a 'letter to Penthouse' territory?"
"I dunno," she giggled, "I've never had phone sex."
"Ah yes, my sweet innocent Marie," he said with a smile, thinking of the pleasure he'd derive in changing that particular status.
"I just said I've never had phone sex. I didn't say I was still a virgin."
Logan felt like a hot knife had just been sharply inserted into his heart.
"You're … not," he stammered.
He plainly remembered her telling him that she'd miraculously been able to successfully ward off any attempts to relieve her of her virginity whilst on the road all those months – which meant …
"Oh no, Scott took care of that little problem – right there on the floor of the Danger Room," she informed him and then let out a small sigh.
"WHAT! You tell that prick to make out his will, 'cause he's fucking dead about thirty seconds after I get home," Logan seethed as he released the claws and sunk them into the already battered headboard.
"Logan, calm down, I'm just kidding," she replied.
"You're not just saying that to protect your lover, are you?" he asked as he retracted the claws.
Marie let out a low laugh, "Please. Screwing Scott would be practically incestuous."
Logan took a deep breath, "You really had me going there for a minute. I'm gonna have to take you over my knee and spank you when I get home."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise," he replied with a wicked grin.
First he'd promised to protect her and now he was promising to spank her. Logan thought about bending Marie over his lap, raising the little leather skirt, discovering she hadn't bothered with panties and … Fuck!
He'd been in strip clubs across Canada, had seen countless women naked and yet all it took was the thought of one slip of a girl, who he'd never actually seen naked except in his fantasies, to make him harder than he'd ever been in his life.
"But you will kiss it better, right?" Marie asked in deceptively innocent voice.
"Shit, Marie."
"I thought you wanted to play?"
"Yeah. But are you really ready to play?"
"I'm wet and it's not from the tub," she informed him, apparently more ready to play than Logan had anticipated.
Logan let out a low groan and realized that he wasn't going to last long as his control was already hanging by a precarious thread.
"Do you have a hard-on?" she asked calmly.
"Yes," he admitted.
"Is it because of me?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you need to describe it to me," she said boldly.
"Excuse me?"
"A visual, Logan – gimme a description of your 'throbbing manhood'."
One phone call - seven bucks. Resulting damage to headboard - fifty bucks. Hearing your innocent dream girl ask about the state of your erection - priceless.
"Why do I have to go first?"
"Oh fine, you big baby," Marie mocked, "My areolas are about the size of a quarter, pinkish-brown in color and my nipples are little pebbles that are sensitive to cold and scratchy fabrics. Now your turn."
Logan was temporarily struck dumb as he fumbled to find his voice again.
"Thick, eight inches and 'cut'," he blurted before he chickened out.
Just then there was a loud banging on Marie's door.
"Damnit, I almost forgot. I'm supposed to go to the movies with Jubes and Kitty – I gotta go," she told him.
"Call me when you get home, I don't care how late it is," Logan started to say, but she'd already hung up.
He reached out to touch her photograph on the computer screen.
Marie had just stepped into her panties when Jubes and Kitty, tired of waiting in the hall, entered her room.
"What's taking so long, Rogue? Kitty asked as they barged in, "We won't have time to go to the snack bar before the movie starts if we don't leave in the next few minutes."
Marie let out a yelp and scrambled to cover herself.
"What's with the modesty, babe?" Jubilee asked as she popped a bubble with her ever-present gum.
"Hello! Lethal skin – remember?" Marie pointed out.
"That would only be a problem if one of us was gonna jump you," Kitty said as she tossed Marie an exaggerated wink.
"Speak for yourself, she's not my type," Jubilee chuckled.
Marie suddenly felt foolish and proceeded to get dressed at a normal pace. Finally dressed, she grabbed her purse and ushered them out of her room. On the ride to the theater Jubilee and Kitty were discussing their favorite subjects – their boyfriends and Marie debated whether or not to tell them about her recent conversations with Logan. They'd only had a couple of teasing phone calls – not exactly a relationship, and Jubes and Kitty would probably just rib her about it – telling her not to get her hopes up that Logan would ever see her as anything more than the stray kid he'd first met. Even if she did know the 'statistics' of his cock. She couldn't wait to get back home, get into bed and fantasize about a naked and aroused Logan stalking towards her – ready to possess her. She let out a soft moan as her panties dampened and then flushed pink when she realized that Kitty was looking at her funny.
"Thinking about an extra large tub of buttered popcorn," she covered.
"Yeah, thinking about popcorn always makes me sound like I'm about to have an orgasm, too," Jubilee announced.
Marie chewed on her bottom lip and stared down at the floor mat. No, she was definitely not going to mention anything about Logan just yet.
She never did call Logan back that night, but the next morning he awoke to an e-mail message that she'd sent after getting back from the movie.
From: keeper of the tag at hotmail dot com
To: owner of the tag at hotmail dot com
Subject: Movie
Hey Logan,
Sorry I had to cut short our little game earlier, but I didn't want Jubes and Kitty walking in while we were – well, you know. The movie we saw was practically a porno – the wardrobe budget couldn't have put much of a dent in the overall budget because most of the time the actors were naked. *g* And I've seen better acting in kindergarten plays – although I don't think acting talent was a priority when they were casting! The title "Sexually Bewitched" should've been a clue. I think Jubes thought it was one of those TV shows from the 60's or 70's that was turned into a movie – like the Brady Bunch or something. Duh.
Well, at least Jubes and Kitty have boyfriends to come home to while I sit here horny, frustrated and seriously contemplating using my hand-held shower massager in a way I'm sure the manufacturer didn't intend it to be used. Oops, I suppose that should fall under the category of 'too much information', but as we've already exchanged descriptions of our *parts* I guess it's probably okay to divulge that.
Well, off to take a shower – I'll be thinking of you. *wink wink*
Love,
Marie
And Logan thought of her as he showered. Or more precisely thought about having her pressed up against the tile, her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust up into her as she moaned and he growled in satisfaction.
Later, he found himself restlessly pacing the room, watching the clock, waiting until he knew she'd be done with classes for the day and hopefully back in her room and checking her e-mail. He'd sent her a brief, but to the point reply.
From: owner of the tag at hotmail dot com
To: keeper of the tag at hotmail dot com
Subject: Call me
Marie,
Call me. I wanna pick up from where we were rudely interrupted.
Logan
Marie didn't call until just before Logan was ready to head out to the "Snake Pit Bar" for the evening's cage fights. She told him that she'd been doing some training with Scott, news that didn't sit well with him at all. He didn't like the idea of Scott rolling around on the gym floor with her. Marie picked up on his irritation and was amused, so she decided to taunt him a little.
"It's not like he copped a feel or anything," she paused before teasingly adding, "Well, maybe one or two."
If anyone was gonna be sneaking touches it would be him, not that dick. Logan growled instinctively and then threatened to mess up Scott's pretty boy looks if he didn't learn to keep his wandering hands to himself.
"Logan, I told you I'm frustrated and Scott and Jean have been having problems lately and I've been thinking that Scott's not really my brother, so…" she trailed off purposely.
Looking at the clock next to the bed, Logan realized that if he wanted to be on tonight's fight roster that he'd have to leave immediately.
"I gotta go, Marie, but I'll call you when I get back," Logan said, "Oh, and considered yourself spanked, you naughty girl." And with that he hung up.
Logan knew that Marie was only joking about Scott, but he still imagined every one of his opponents as the X-Men leader and inflicted far more damage than usual on his poor victims. When he finally sauntered over to the bar at the end of the evening, his temper was only just beginning to ebb. He'd just taken his first slug of Molson's when a lilting voice caught his attention.
"I've been watching you all night from across the room."
"Yeah, why don't you go back there and keep watching," Logan answered without bothering to look up from his beer.
Just then Logan caught a familiar scent and jerked his head in the direction of the voice. The woman was a gorgeous shapely blonde wearing a red dress that clung so tightly to her that it left no doubt she'd forgone underwear. She may have looked different from their last encounter, but Logan recognized her nonetheless.
"Mystique," he hissed.