Man of Her Dreams

by Tarafina

Some years later, Marie’s living a life some wouldn’t quite expect of her, and she loves every moment of it. :Logan/Marie:

Title: Man of Her Dreams
Category: X-Men: The Movie
Rating: Mature
Genre: Romance/Drama
Pairing: Wolverine/Rogue (Logan/Marie)
Word Count: 4,249
Summary: Some years later, Marie's living a life some wouldn't quite expect of her, and she loves every moment of it.

Man of Her Dreams
1/1

She stood next to him like a Gypsy Queen with her loyal beast companion as guard. Black gauzy clothes that covered nearly every inch of her and a hood to hide her white-streaked hair still weren't able to keep the curious eyes away, however. Instead, they dazzled and drew interest as she walked with gumption in each step, never slowing, never giving anyone a moment of her time. As they looked on at her with rapt attention, they reared away from the man who stood so loyal and dark at her side. Smoke curled from a cigar that hung from full snarling lips; he puffed out a breath that sounded more like a snort meant to startle people away. He flared his nostrils at any who dared walk closer rather than heed his warning. Crisp dark whiskers covered his clenched jaw, leading down from thick muttonchops and oddly shaped hair that only gave the stranger a more animalistic look. Compared to him, she looked fragile. The haughty sway of her hips and fullness of her lush breasts were equally met with the hard resisting form that followed next to her, muscles straining his white wife-beater and tight dark jeans. His fists were curled in automatic fists, daring anyone to try him on for size.

Mutants and humans alike stepped out of their path, whispering of them as they continued on without saying a word. They entered the bar at five and left at midnight with a wad of cash that had the brute grinning and the woman smiling like the cat who caught a canary. The shouting of the fights held inside Little John's Tavern could be heard all through the town, though nobody was the wiser that this was any different than any other Friday nigh. Little John had been holding his weekly cage matches for longer than most of the people had been living in the restless town of Damon. And like all the towns before it the two strangers had strode in, made their winnings and left with smirks and a load of cash, climbing into their beat-up truck and moving on.

Come morning, word would spread of the unearthly strength the man had held. Wolverine, they called him, speaking in whispers as if he were a monster that would come at any voicing of his name. They exchanged stories, exaggerating with each telling, of how he'd tossed and maimed any who stepped in the cage. The feral look in his eyes was chilling, they'd all agree. How he grunted and laughed, goading his opponent on until he finally threw them to the ground in a heap of exhaustion, watching with amusement as they pleaded their way out. And all the while, his gypsy sweetheart sat on a stool at the bar, sipping her beer and exchanging smug looks with Little John and his not-so-happy wife.

Unlike the towns before them, Little John wasn't taking this beating lying down. He'd been put out of entirely too much money and his patrons weren't happy with him. So he called ahead to the three towns just past Damon, thinking to warn them of the mutant coming their way, the Wolverine and his Southern belle. He sat back at his bar contently, happy he'd put the duo out of business for a little while yet. But any warnings he'd pass on would be pointless, he'd soon learn.

When Logan and Marie reached the next dusty town, they stepped out with the same poise they had before and Wolverine made sure to snarl a little more at the men that gawked and the women who stared. He kept close to Marie, his hand finding the small of her back more out of possession than anything. She didn't mind if the quirk of her lips was anything to go by. They'd been running this routine for years now and it'd served them just fine. As they stepped into the musty bar, the crack of pool cues against balls was all that could be heard for a minute. People stopped what they were doing, peering through the smoky haze of their surroundings to get a good look at the newcomers. A whistle went out and she took it in stride, swaggering toward the bar while drawing a wad of cash from her pocket. "You got a fight goin' on tonight, sugar?" she drawled, extra sweet and seductive just for the ogling bartender.

"Now miss, what's a sweet little bit like you doin' in a rundown place like this?" he asked, smirking as he not-so-subtly stared down her top.

"Gettin' by." She nodded her head back. "I've got a prized fighter with me that you'd do well to enter in your fun tonight."

"That right?" The bartender rubbed his jaw, squinting his eyes at Logan. "Name?"

"Wolverine," she said with a certain carnal twang to it that made Logan's jeans a little too tight for comfort. He'd make her say it just like that later tonight when he had her on her back.

Just as quick to embrace them, the bartender was cool as ice. "That right?" He stood up a little straighter, stared from one to the other and then shook his head. "No fight tonight, I'm afraid. Best come back some other time."

All of her sweetness gone, Marie drew back, stepping away from the bar and sidling against Logan with her hand splayed possessively across his stomach. "I'm not used to this kinda hospitality," she murmured up to him, lifting a brow. "I tried to be nice… Guess he's all yours to convince." Her fingers stroked up and down Logan's stomach and ribs absently. While he kept a close eye on those around him, he was nowhere near able to ignore the enticement she was offering.

He glared hard at the bartender, didn't even flinch as he saw him reach down for the weapon hidden in the back. "Either you let me fight in the ring or I fight everyone who comes in here and you don't make a dime off it."

The bartender frowned. "You're bluffin'."

Marie laughed. "We don't bluff." She batted her eyes at him. "No need to."

With an easy swallow of his pride, the man finally nodded. "Fine, but if you're as good as you say you are I better be makin' a good damn profit outta this."

Letting go of Logan, Marie sidled over and took a seat, reaching out and snaking a cold beer from behind the bar before he could say a thing. "Sugar, he always puts on a good show."

Dragging his leather coat off and lazily dropping it on the seat next to Marie, Logan cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Send 'em on over." As he walked away with a smug swagger in his step, he sent a cocky wink back at her.

She grinned.

"You know what you're getting into?" the bartender asked her, wiping down the counter as he surreptitiously looked from her to the wild man waiting for a good fight.

Marie snorted, laying her beer back down before threading her fingers and resting her chin on her gloved hands. "You look at him and see an animal, doncha?" She didn't wait for him to reply. "I look at him and I see a man… A man who's proud, strong and would lay his life down for mine any second of any day. And you know what?" She pinned him with her knowledgeable stare, looking far beyond her years. "I'd do the same for him." Pursing rosie lips, she turned her soft doe eyes on the raging Wolverine pacing the cage in wait for an opponent. "The world's changed and so have the people in it… But everyone keeps playin' these games like it hasn't… Well I've learned; I see what's right there in front o' me. And I didn't let it pass me by when the chance rose up. You gotta take what's offered to ya," she told him righteously, her brows narrowing with exclamation, "Fight for it when it needs explanation…" She shook her head, smiling gently.

Thick grey brows fell over the bartender's eyes as he stared, unconvinced. "How old are ya, girl?"

She smirked. "I don't look a day over twenty."

He was distracted for a moment as somebody gathered up the guts to face off against Wolverine and then turned his face back to her as she watched with a fascination that was nearly erotic. Her eyes were riveted as Wolverine and the cocky fighter circled each other. "When this night's out, you're gonna have a mess to clean up, I guarantee that," she murmured, wrinkling her nose.

"You two do this a lot?" he muttered, frowning as Wolverine didn't so much as lose his footing when a hard right fist landed on his jaw.

"Like I said, we're just out here gettin' by." She took another swig of her beer and flipped her hood back as the bar warmed her skin.

He eyed the white streak in her hair as if it labeled her off the bat. "There are others way, y'know."

"Comin' from a man that runs bar and illegal cage fights on weekends, you're not so convincin'," she teased.

He gave a rough chuckle, smartening up a second later when Wolverine cast a warning glare in his direction. Clearing his throat, he glared at her. "He gonna turn that fist on me if I keep talking to ya?"

She laughed lightly. "You keep your hands to ya'self and you'll be fine." She shrugged. "He's just… protective is all."

He grunted, lifting a brow. "Possessive, I'd say."

Marie lifted a brow. "You got a wife?"

He shrugged. "An ex."

"When you were together, I bet you were real careful with her, weren't ya?" She lifted a knowing brow. "Men like you, you can't help it. Friend of mine says it calls back to the caveman period." She grinned. "When you love someone sometimes you let your baser instincts do the talkin'." She turned her gaze back to the panting, growling brute as he waited once more for another attack, watching like a predator stalking its prey.

"And you think he loves you?" The derision was, as always, palpable.

"I know he does." She shook her head when he moved to protest. "I'm not the innocent you think I am," she said with the sort of certainty that couldn't be ignored. "I may look no more than twenty but trust me, sir, I've lived a life that tells more than that." Her brow furrowed and she was lost in memory for a moment before she shook her head.

"You're one of 'em, aintcha?" he muttered, low so nobody else could hear.

Her lips curled as if with amusement. "A mutant?"

His expression flashed with ignorance and curiosity.

"Yeah, sugar, I'm one of them." She peeled at the stamp on her beer bottle absently. "Ran with them a long time ago, back when I was still in school… Nearly got myself killed a few times." She looked rather amused with that thought. "But I survived and I moved on… Learned the world as I was meant to and now… Here I am."

The bartender peered at her and she knew off the bat what he was doing, trying to see where she went wrong, what her mutation was.

Because she hated how the revulsion was quick to cross any newcomer's face, she simply said, "I stopped agin' when I was twenty-two… That was twenty-five years ago."

His brows lifted. "You tellin' me you're forty-seven?" He whistled low in his throat, shaking his head.

She grinned. "Not a bad mutation, is it?"

She didn't go into details, not how she'd stopped aging because of all the times Logan had used his powers on her, how there was a damn good chance she was just as impenetrable as he was. Hell, she could get up right now and fight in that cage and walk out with not a scratch on her. But she didn't need or want to. All her years with the X-Men had taught her one thing; she wasn't like them. She'd gone there because Logan had told her she'd be safe, because she'd been promised there would be a change in her mutation, a possible way to control her skin. But as years went on, it never came, and instead she was left feeling more alone and unprotected than ever. Until he showed up, all hard edges and bitter memories, straddling a Harley with a cigar hanging precariously from his lips. He nodded at her to hop on, said he'd bring her back later, after they caught up. She never went back and he never made her. They'd been on the road since, and it wasn't without its downfalls.

Twenty five years later and she was still with him, traveling from town to town, fight to fight, making a living when needed, getting by on odd jobs elsewhere when traveling wasn't possible or the fights were getting rare, making the drive to and fro pointless. Their cabin was situated out in the remote woods a good two week's drive from here. She fondly remembered the comfortable bed that encompassed their bedroom, a fireplace warming them each night they fell asleep. He'd built their home with his own two hands, chuckling when she tried to do her best to help and carefully plucking each and every sliver from her skin with his teeth every time she got involved. He was careful with her, but he knew her better than anyone and so she was never left wanting in any department. He was clever and resourceful when it came to her mutation and he never spared the time to tell her she was covering up too much in his presence, instead stripping away the layers he felt she never needed. And within all that time, she'd learned to cope with who and what she was, no longer afraid of herself but simply taking what precautions were needed for others.

"Well ain't that beat all?" he muttered rather thoughtfully, peering at her still as if wrinkles would suddenly spring up from around her eyes and mouth.

She gave a shrug, turning her attention back to the fight. Logan was beautiful, not that he'd care to know such a fact. The agility with which he moved, the raw fierceness of him, it all called to her, vibrating through every inch of her and settling heavy at her stomach, threads of heat licking between her thighs. She wanted him; she always did during and after his fights. Tonight they'd find a hotel somewhere, nothing too fancy, and he'd lay her out on the bed like a treasure, hands and mouth bringing her to heights that still amazed and shocked her. She had a suitcase full of scarves and other such sheer luxuries that would keep them both safe during moments of sweet seduction. Not for the first time, she wiggled in her seat, feeling the lacey texture of the teddy she wore beneath her clothes. She'd given him a peek before they stepped inside the bar; red and completely see through. He'd licked his lips, a growl in his throat that made her thighs quake.

"So who called ahead on us?" she asked him, smiling as he stared warily down at her. "Little John, wasn't it?" She shook her head. "I told Wolverine he didn't appreciate how much money he lost that night… Risk of the business though," she said, lifting her shoulders daintily.

He nodded somewhat, eyeing her suspiciously. "I'm still gettin' my cut."

She grinned. "We don't lie or cheat. We just earn what's ours."

With a grunt, he seemed to accept that and turned his attention to the fight as it came to and end. Wolverine had let it drag on a little; people liked a show and he had to give it to them if he wanted to keep making money.

She clapped as he was announced winner and winked at him as he stood panting fiercely, sweat beading on his skin. What a sight, he was. She licked her lips with appreciation.

Wolverine leaned back against the wire of the cage, crossed his thick arms over his broad chest and gave her a delicious smirk that promised to warm her later that night.

If nothing else, she had him. And he had her. What more could a couple of mutants such as themselves want for? She'd set her eyes on him at sixteen and by twenty-one she finally had what she wanted and needed. He'd fought her advances for as long as he could until finally giving in to the inevitable.

"I want you," she'd said as they stood outside the tavern a good half hour outside of the mansion he planned to take her back to and run off from with his tail between his legs as soon as the heat between them grew unbearable. "I want this and I want you and I don't want you to stand there and question me on this, Logan. I'm done sufferin' for your conscious; I'm done fightin' with ya over the obvious… I want you, damn it, and I want our life to start right now." Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared up at him stubbornly. "Now what are you gonna do about that?"

He growled at her, stepping so close she would've fallen flat on her bottom if his arms hadn't wrapped around her waist, and then he kissed every thought and breath from her until she was a boneless mass of desire, desperately wanting all that he could give. And he gave, she took, and they went on as they were always meant to.

Another man out to try his luck stepped up to take on Wolverine, drawing her back into the here and now. She settled in with a grin, she could already see Logan's amusement coming out. He did so enjoy these nights.

It was half past midnight when they left the bar and a good few handfuls of drunken beaten-to-a-pulp patrons that hadn't stood a chance against him. The bartender had only grumbled until he got his cut and then he was satisfied enough to whistle as he swept up the teeth and broken glass that littered his floor. Logan dragged his coat on and took her hand as she tucked their winnings in her pocket while they left the bar and climbed into their truck. He turned the ignition and let it warm up, all the while playing with a lock of her white hair. She counted out the cash before hiding it away in their lockbox beneath the seat. When she turned to tell him what they'd earned, he was quick to cover her lips in the gauzy material of her hood and kissed her lips lingeringly, tongue sweeping along her own, sucking on it diligently. The wet heat of his kiss was so strong through the fabric it felt as though it weren't there at all.

She forgot all about money as she gripped the shoulders of his leather jacket, letting out a slight whimper of surprise when he hauled her from her seat into his lap. She straddled him easily, staring down at him with warm, laughing eyes. He plucked her gloves from her hands with his teeth, spitting them out on the seat next to them. Bare fingers stroked his mutton chops and jaw, the whiskers that grew there keeping him safe as ever. She threaded her fingers into his hair, luxuriated in how soft it was against the bareness of her palms. All the while, he sat there and watched her as if her joy was all he needed. This was why twenty-five years was just the beginning. He was the only man who loved her for who she was; baggage and troubles included. And she was just as thorough in her love of him, taking in stride the night terrors that still plagued him and the memory loss that followed his every step.

Lifting the sheer gauze across her face, she tilted forward until their foreheads met and closed her eyes as they held each other, breathing each others breaths in the quiet of the night. The first two years they were together, he was waiting for her to snap and go back to the comfort of the mansion. He'd remind her of all the good things she had there; the friends and the safety. On nights like these, while the truck rumbled to life against the chill, he'd list all the vehicles Scooter had that would've revved up in seconds and had them away and to their destination already. When faced with crowds of angry bar-goers, pointing their righteous fingers at mutants and aiming to get them out of their town, he'd shout how she would be so much better back at the institute, surrounded by all the other mutants that had no reason to do any pointing. It wasn't until the third year when she had finally told him to just shut up that he realized she wasn't going anywhere, with that they were finally able to build a life together. Much as he wouldn't admit he was afraid she'd go, he had been, but now he knew, and he could relax in that knowledge.

"Motel's only a block or so down," she murmured, leaning back from him.

He lifted a brow at her, one that said so much.

She grinned. "You need a shower and then…" Her whiskey eyes glinted mischievously. "We'll celebrate."

He smirked, dragging the truck into gear before pushing his boot down heavy on the gas.

"Logan! You can't drive with me in your lap!" she exclaimed, laughing.

He grunted a chuckle. "I'm multi-taskin'," he muttered as his hand crept up her spine, making her arch against him. She was quick to realize his full meaning when his mouth covered her breast, suckling her through the fabric of her top. "L-Logan, the road!"

"Keep any eye on it for me," he told her, biting down on her nipple and making her hips buck against him.

She narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the road as she twisted and turned to get a better view, all the while making sure she didn't draw any further from his mouth that she had to. "You're gonna get us killed," she told him, smiling to herself. "Turn left in… Now!"

The truck jerked quickly to the left while he hadn't flinched or even glanced, entirely too absorbed in what his tongue was working at.

"S-S-Stop," she cried, head falling back as her eyes fluttered in ecstasy.

He slammed his foot on the brake and yanked the gear into park before gripping her hips tight in his large hands and switching to her other breast while she moaned his name gutturally and rocked against him. "Gotta… p-pay…" She leaned forward, slid her hands into his hair and gripped tight, yanking his head back from her. He growled from the back of his throat, glaring at her.

"You better have a damn good reason…"

She grinned. "Don't start something you can't finish," she said cheerfully before reaching down and yanking the handle up to get the door open. "I'm gonna get us a room."

"Coulda finished it just fine!" he shouted after her.

She laughed, her hips swaying a little extra as she hurried to the front desk to rent a room. She full intended to show her man a good night, but she wasn't aiming to do it in their drafty old truck when a perfectly good bed was within walking distance. Key in hand and excitement racing up and down her spine, she nearly ran toward their room. He smirked as she came toward him, already lighting a cigar. One she fully intended to pluck from his mouth and take a long drag off herself. Knowing her intention, he purposely tipped his head back, cigar out of reach and chuckled low in his throat. "You get it?"

"Not yet," she said cheekily, "But I fully intend to." As she swaggered toward their room, she called back over her shoulder. "In multiples."

His low laughter, filled with promise, was quick to follow as he caught her around her waist and lifted her into his arms while she pointed out the way.

The room was no more than a bed, a tiny bathroom, a TV chained to its stand and a couple of end tables, but it was more than enough. Her life might not be glamorous, might not be that of a hero out to save the world and all the mutants in it, but damn it all if she didn't love every second of it. He kicked the door shut, locked it with a flick of his hand and laid her out on the bed while shrugging his jacket off, a heated look in his eyes that made a warm shiver of anticipation skitter up her spine. What they had, what they were to each other, it would never grow old. Somewhere out there the X-Men fought their battles day in and day out, while she had already won the greatest fight of all. To some Wolverine might be a beast made of nightmares, to her he was the man of her dreams. And she fully intended to enjoy every inch of him.