Rogue woke up slowly out of a surprisingly deep sleep. She stretched one sore limb after another, arched her back, and then flopped back into the cushioning mattress. It took a while for her sleep-fogged brain to register why she felt so completely relaxed, but then the memories of the previous night's events began playing through her mind. Her eyes popped open and blood rushed to her cheeks when she remembered the feel of Logan's hands and mouth on her body doing things she had once daydreamed of but eventually gave up on when her friendship with him blossomed.

Rogue stared up at the ceiling above her head, her eyes tracing the white plaster swirls while her mind raced as she considered her last words before leaving Logan in the locker room. In the bright light of day—well, all right, the cracks in the white blinds shading her room from the outside room showed a darkly overcast sky, so it wasn't all that bright out—their encounter and the challenge she had been given seemed less than wise. She valued Logan so much, relied on the friendship they had built; she was afraid to allow anything to continue that might interfere with that. At the same time, the fragment of Logan that resided in her mind growled at the notion that she would be able to persuade him to give up the hunt just as he'd finally come to his senses and gotten her scent. A lot of her scent, he amended wickedly.

The sense of enjoyment that Logan-in-her-head felt at the notion of pursuing and catching her was enough to send Rogue jumping out of bed. A mad scramble through her drawers produced a long-sleeved green T-shirt, black running shorts, and black leggings which she threw on. She pulled her hair into a messy pony-tail, crammed her feet into socks and sneakers, and then she trotted downstairs. Thankfully it was Saturday, and apparently it was early enough that not many students and none of the adults were stirring yet. Rogue didn't encounter anyone as she made her way outside to the track that circled the grounds of the school.

Her feet pounding on the ground as she broke into a full out run and the wind whipping past her calmed Rogue's mind slightly. She attempted to lose herself in the sensations, used them to distract herself and the voices in her head that were clamoring to gain her attention and offer advice or opinions on the situation. Her legs and arms pumping, she entered a wooded area that eventually thinned out to the trees that bordered the small lake at the western edge of the property. As she slowed to enjoy the sight, she became aware of the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. A quick glance over her shoulder informed Rogue that Logan was running not far behind her. She squelched an irrational desire to pick up her pace—actually, to sprint. First, Logan might take that as a challenge in either an innocent or not-so-innocent way. He was a better runner than she was despite the weight of his adamantium skeleton, so best not to provoke him either way. Rogue also didn't want to give him the idea that she was uncomfortable around him, even though she was a little bit unnerved to see him running after her on the heels of her internal debates. So she kept up her steady jog even as his longer stride at away at the distance between them.

"Mornin', darlin'," Logan said as he pulled forward next to her.

"Yeah, it is," Rogue huffed, rolling her eyes just as she always would when he tried to act like being awake early on the weekend was a good thing. Since both of them were usually awake thanks to shitty sleep and nightmares, Rogue usually hated pretending that she liked it. She suspected that Logan wasn't even pretending, which only made her grumpier.

"Sleep well?" Logan's question blindsided her, and then he picked up his pace before she could reply.

Rogue stared after him, her cheeks bright red for the second time that morning. She hadn't expected even such an indirect reference to their late night activities, although since this was Logan she wasn't sure why she ever thought he wouldn't mention it. Her brain sputtered uselessly for a few seconds. Knowing that her chance was dwindling with every step he ran, she called out a retort. "Like a baby, sugar!"

A small kernel of satisfaction glowed within her, despite her best efforts, because it was the truth. Last night had been the best sleep she had gotten in what felt like ages. Whether she liked it or not, that satisfaction grew when Logan shouted back, "Me, too!"


Logan was glad he had decided to go for a run instead of a Danger Room session that morning. While beating up some realistic holograms could normally slake the needs of his feral side, the sight of Rogue blushing and flustered appealed to both the human and feral in him. Then she came back with that little bit of sass and he almost grinned even as he teased her back. He never grinned.

He knew Rogue, maybe better than she thought. No matter how much she gave in to an impulse, no matter how much she wanted what had happened between them, once she had a chance to actually think he was pretty sure she would start to overthink, overanalyze, maybe doubt that they should continue along the same vein. Logan knew he would have to keep her off balance a little if he wanted her—and he definitely did. Unlike Rogue, he rarely regretted or second-guessed his instincts, and his instincts were screaming at him to claim her.

Logan finished his run in a good mood and went to his room to shower. Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, he made his way to the kitchen, fixed a cup of coffee, and settled at one of the comfortable wooden tables scattered around the large informal room to wait. Eventually his patience paid off when he heard Rogue's distinctive footsteps approaching. Funny, he hadn't even noticed that he'd memorized the pattern, but he was confident it was her.

Rogue proved his subconscious correct when she appeared in the doorway, wet hair braided back and a slightly hunted look in her eyes. Logan was sure she didn't see him right away where he was sitting, half-hidden by shadows. If she had, she might not have walked so calmly over to the refrigerator. She opened the door and bent down to rummage through the fruit drawer. From his vantage point, Logan was able to get a good long look at the way her jeans hugged her ass, a tantalizing inch of skin showing where her black shirt road up slightly. He almost growled in disappointment when she straightened and shut the door; he was just barely able to hold it in check.

Logan knew she saw him when she turned around because she froze with a green apple raised partway to her mouth, which hung slightly open for a moment before she snapped it shut. He raised his eyes slowly from her hips up the lush curve of her breasts—and what pretty color of lace was she wearing under her shirt, he wondered—and finally met her eyes. Hazel locked on dark brown, he smiled and gestured to the empty seat next to him. She took a deep breath, probably meant to be bracing but it drew his attention back to her chest, and then she joined him at the table, sitting gingerly on the edge of the seat he had indicated.

"Touch me," he said when it looked like she was about to say something, reaching out and laying his hand, palm up, on the table in front of her.

Rogue stared first at his hand and then into his eyes as if he was crazy. Maybe he was, but this was probably the easiest way to push her into practicing her control that he could think of. Since last night her control was a very important concern for him, so Logan kept his hand stretched out to her. After a few moments she set down her apple and pulled off one black glove, one finger at a time. He monitored her breathing, heard how the rhythm slowed as she prepared herself, and gave her a reassuring look. Her bare hand hovered over his; her fingertips almost brushed his skin several times before she settled her hand on top of his.

When Rogue's skin touched his, for the first time he was able to concentrate only on that sensation. There was no fear, for him—been there, done that—or her, no panic, no desperation. As her fingers rested on his skin for one second, ten, twenty, the only thing he felt was an incredible sense of intimacy mixed with an understandable stab of lust, all fueled by her soft, smooth skin. He desperately wanted to know if the rest of her felt like this, but just when he was about to close his fingers around hers and draw her closer, not even half a minute after she started touching him, he felt the beginning of her mutation's pull. Rogue jerked her hand away, but her mutation hadn't packed its usual whammy and all he felt was a little lightheadedness.

While Rogue sat staring at her bare hand, fingers curled in defensively, Logan tried to figure out from her expression what she was thinking. Usually she was an open book, at least to him, but now he just couldn't figure it out. He could only leave his hand on the table and look at her, willing her to meet his eyes again.