Author's Note: For Laurel, who wanted to see Leah taking charge. Enjoy! -PC

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Leah was at the table with a cup of coffee halfheartedly working on the biology essays. Logan had been outside for almost an hour replenishing the wood supply, and she looked up as he came in the back door. She was surprised to see him knocking snow off of his boots.

"When did that happen?"

"Storm's just blowing in, the one I smelled yesterday. It's moving faster than I thought." He'd stripped down to his undershirt and was glistening with sweat from exertion. "Smells big."

"You need help with the firewood? Or anything else?"

"Nah. Got enough cut, just bringing in more for the night. We're not gonna want to go outside for awhile."

She could hear the wind picking up already, and noticed how the quality of the light in the cabin was changing. As Logan made several more trips, filling the wood boxes for both of the fireplaces and in the kitchen, she built up all three of the fires and put the coffee pot back on to reheat.

Once the wood boxes were brimming, Logan rinsed himself off in the bathroom and threw on fresh clothes, then methodically moved around the cabin battening down the hatches. He had covers and extra foam insulation ready at each window, and covers to seal the doors also; by the time he was done, they were as snug as possible.

He helped himself to the coffee and then joined Leah at the table. "Should be all set."

"Thank you." She smiled, putting her pen aside. "Is it weird to say I'm excited?"

"Nah. I like blizzards. We're warm, plenty of food, things to do."

"Logan…" He tensed, thinking she wanted to talk long-term, but she was going somewhere else. "Up here it feels like we're in our own little world. Do you ever think about just throwing in the towel and staying here?"

"Sometimes." He offered her a teasing smile. "Get rich, then just live out here, at least for a few years."

She laughed. "So far, I wouldn't blame you at all. Hey…do you think we should let everyone know we're okay? They might be worried about the blizzard, and I brought the mini-sat in case we had a big emergency."

Logan shrugged. It wasn't something that would have really occurred to him, but it sounded like a good idea.

Leah quickly set up the little satellite dish and pulled her phone from where it had been buried at the bottom of her backpack. She typed out a brief text to Charles and Hank, and then took down the sat. "All done. Hopefully they get it, the sat signal was starting to get weak."

He'd wandered over to refill his coffee, turning back as Leah picked up her pen and chewed on the end absently, chin resting in her hand.

She looked adorable. The realization was like a shock to his chest.

The sex was amazing, he had no problem admitting that. He hadn't felt relaxed like this in a long time and the multiple orgasms a day were probably a good part of the reason. And he liked Leah, especially now that he was getting a chance to know her. But thinking she was adorable?

He shied away from it. Not ready quite yet. But…

He set his coffee down and crossed to behind her chair, resting his hands on her shoulders. She reached up, covering one of his hands with hers and lightly squeezing.

He liked it. There was that shock again.

He realized that he wanted to untie her thick dark hair – held back in a messy knot – and run his hands through it. Bury his face in it and inhale her scent, now mixed with his.

And he realized that he'd gotten way too used to desiring a woman he couldn't touch. That now, he was free to act on wanting Leah – to touch her, with her permission, however and whenever he pleased.

So he did.

He unknotted her hair and watched it fall down her back, combing his fingers through the waves that had formed from it being up. Leah hummed in contentment, and again when he lifted a fistful to his face and breathed deeply.

He leaned down and began nibbling the side of her neck, brushing her hair aside with one hand and sliding the other around to cup her breast. Leah made a sound of appreciation and started turning to face him, but he tightened his grip.

"Stay there," he whispered. "Keep working."

"What?"

"Keep working," he repeated.

"O…kay…"

She went back to the essay and realized right away what he was doing. That smug bastard. He unbuttoned her shirt from behind and slid his hands inside, scolding her when she dropped her pen.

"Keep working, Leah."

Hands on her breasts, lips on her neck. Yeah, right. She tried to focus on the essay in front of her and read the same sentence three times as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. "Shit, Logan…"

"Stand up," he whispered.

She shot out of the chair so fast it fell over. Logan kicked it out of the way and stood behind her, using his body to keep Leah penned against the table. "Keep working."

"You've got to be kidding!"

In answer, he palmed her breast again and started unbuttoning her jeans with the other hand. "Keep working or I stop."

"Fuck!"

His hands slowed, making good on his threat, and she picked up the essay again. Dividing her focus made everything he was doing to her feel more intense; the more she tried to read the damn essay, the more her body responded to him. Which he knew. Bastard.

He shoved her jeans and underwear down her legs, and stood again as she stepped out of them, unbuckling his belt. Leah braced her feet at the sound, anticipating, but although she felt him close behind her, he didn't enter yet – instead, his fingers sought between her legs. She glared down at the essay in her hands and scrawled a "B+" on it.

"Why the B+?" he growled in her ear, his fingers dancing.

"It wasn't…there was a…Logan, Jesus!" He was stroking her clit very slowly and he thought she could form a coherent sentence? He should be upset if she managed it.

"It wasn't what?" His lips traced the shell of her ear and moved down, teeth grazing along her neck. Burying his face in her hair again.

"It wasn't…it wasn't…" Moans were apparently punctuation at this point. "The assignment was a case study. How diseases spread, specifically looking at the H5N1 outbreaks of 2008 and why it's considered a prime candidate for bioterrorism."

"And?"

"The student disagreed with the conclusion that it's a pandemic threat. They're wrong, but the argument was still well structured. So, a B+. Logan…"

"Mmm. You're so hot when you talk about biology."

He finally slid inside her and she cried out with the relief of it.

"Go ahead, Leah," he murmured. "Let go…it feels so damn good when I'm inside you and you come for me…"

She obliged him as he increased his pace, thrusting harder with a hand still between her legs, and she let go at full volume and swore it made the climax even better, though gods knew it was plenty good already with how he'd been teasing her, and she felt him withdraw his hand and grip both her hips, moving faster and seeking his own release, and shortly afterwards he answered her scream with his own roar.

Leah let herself flop over onto the table and the pile of half-graded essays. "Christ."

Logan was grinning as he withdrew and went in search of a towel.

Leah had started a beef stew that morning, and by the time they'd gotten cleaned up and cleared her work off of the table, it was ready. They ate in the living room, sprawling out in front of the fire as the storm howled.

Logan took both their empty bowls into the kitchen and returned with more drinks. To Leah's surprise, he handed her the wineglass, and then – slowly – settled down next to her on the nest of blankets they'd made, leaning against the side of the couch. Even more slowly, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him.

She very deliberately didn't look at him. Instead, she curled into him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder and her wineglass on the floor. She felt his chin land on top of her head.

Full. Warm. Content.

"Tell me something about you," he rumbled.

"Something new?" She'd told him a few stories already. "What do you want to know?"

Idly, he used his leg to capture hers, sandwiching it between both of his. Leah adjusted her hips, leaning more of her weight back onto him. "Pick something. What did you use your powers for first?"

She laughed. "You really want to know that? I have the most boring origin story ever. It's so stupid. I was nine."

"Tell me."

"Fine. My dad was complaining about not having enough lettuce for the dinner salad. So I went out into the garden and grew him some more."

He chuckled, angling his head to catch her eye. "Really?"

"Mmhmm. Strangely enough, he didn't finish making the salad."

"Suppose not. What'd you do after that?"

"My dad's a horticulturist too, so I think he got so excited about the possibilities, he was pretty okay with the whole mutant thing. But, that was back in the early 90's…things were a little difficult still, you remember…so he thought it was best to keep it a secret." She grinned. "He never let me enter the state fair. Teenage me was pissed about that…I grew a giant pumpkin every year just for spite."

Leah turned in his arms, wiggling her body to be able to face him. "Every time I'd hear about communities being hungry on the news, or crops failing, and knowing I could do something about it – that was the hard part. I can get two harvests out of a field in a summer with the right soil replenishment techniques. " She leaned her head back on his shoulder, somber now. "There was one guy…friend of my dad's. His entire corn crop got destroyed by a freak hail storm."

"I'm guessing you fixed it."

"Sure did. Climbed out my window the night after he finished clearing the field of all the debris. It took me the whole night to regrow all of it, and I was half-dead afterwards – I was sixteen at the time. Couldn't climb back up, so Dad found me asleep on the porch in the morning, and by then everyone was already talking about the "miracle"." Her mouth quirked in a smile, remembering. "Dad was so pissed at me."

She took a long drink from her wineglass and then resettled herself in his arms. "So there you go, there's something about me. What about you?"

He slipped his hand under the edge of her sweater, lightly resting it on the smooth skin of her waist. "Not easy to talk about me."

"Do you need more beer?"

He let out a soft snort. "Trust me. There's not enough alcohol in the world to make it easier."

"Look, Logan…" Leah took a deep breath. "You can tell me stuff in your own time. That's okay. But I can't promise I won't say something really fucking stupid if I don't know any better."

"That's fair." He reached for a beer with his free hand and drank deeply. "Suppose there's one thing I should mention now."

She lifted her eyebrows and he took a breath. "You know Jean."

"Oh, that?" She rolled her eyes. "I know about that already."

"…You do?"

"Hate to break it to you, but everyone knows about that." She grinned. "Space aliens, if there are any, probably know about that."

He looked so stunned that she dropped the teasing. "Seriously, though, what were you going to say?"

"Just that this has made me realize how fucked up that whole thing is." He tightened his arms around her. "Figured that out when I realized I could touch you if I wanted to."

"And that's weird?"

"That I don't have to tell myself no? Yeah. It is." He sighed. "I've been really fucked up for a long time. Not just that. But I'm getting better."

Leah bit her lip, then slowly reached up and touched his cheek with her fingertips, turning his face back to her. "Well, I can assure you that you can absolutely touch me as much as you want to."

She nearly added, and that goes for after this week's over, too, but the mood was heavy already, so instead, she stretched up and lightly kissed him until she felt him relax, and then snuggled back down into his arms.

They curled together in silence for a few minutes; her hip was starting to ache from resting all of her weight on it, and she finally had to roll her shoulders and sit up. Logan stood, moving over to the fire to build it back up and add several more logs, and then looked out the window with a low whistle.

"Storm's still going," he reported, settling back down on the blankets. "Snow's so thick you can barely see. It's up to the window."

Leah rolled onto her other side to face him, pleasantly buzzing from the wine. "We'll be able to get out of here, right?"

"Yeah. Figured we might get a storm, that's why we drove that truck. Should be fine. Got three more days before we head back."

Leah shook her head. "I don't want to think about it yet." She cast her eyes over the blankets, fire, empty bottles. "This is dangerously addictive."

"Yeah."

He still sounded a little somber, even as his arm snaked back around her waist. Leah decided to take matters into her own hands.

Literally.

She shifted onto his lap, straddling his hips and leaning down for a kiss. For once - although he responded eagerly - it didn't turn rabid right away, and she felt his arms go around her but his hands weren't going for her clothes yet.

Perfect.

She could tell the exact moment when his mood started lifting, because other things started to lift as well, and she could feel it even through both their pants. She grinned against his mouth and slid off him. He looked at her in surprise.

Her lips curved mischievously.

She stretched out on her right side, carefully positioning her head in the crook of his shoulder, and trailed her hand down his chest to his belt. A few expert flicks of her fingers managed to unbuckle it one-handed – Shit, that was way more elegant than I thought it'd be – and she swiftly dispensed with buttons and zipper as well, sliding her hand inside his pants.

The minute she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, she felt him jump.

She pressed her mouth to his throat and kissed her way up to his ear, lightly scraping her teeth on the lobe. At the same time, her left hand squeezed gently.

Logan swore.

Working within the confines of the fabric – she wanted to make him wait – she slowly stroked him with her fingertips, while continuing to kiss and nip along his neck. He couldn't reach her with his right arm, and his left hand, trapped by her body, had to settle for curling over the curve of her butt.

She glossed her fingertips over his balls, and felt him shudder. "That tickles," he growled.

Well, okay then. Skip that part.

She returned her attention to the main attraction and wrapped her hand around him again, moving slowly up and down. There was only so much of this she wanted to do – she had more in store for him - but she had a pretty good sense by now of what his point of no return felt like.

His hips moved in time with her hand. "You like this?" she murmured against his neck.

"Leah…"

"Yes," she whispered. "Say my name."

He did, deserving a reward, so she threw her leg back over him and straddled his hips again, straightening up to be able to take off his shirt and undershirt.

He reached for her for a kiss, but she was already sliding back down his body the minute she tossed his shirts to the side. She could feel his hands trying to get a hold on her sweater – he was clearly unhappy that she was still wearing all of her clothes – but nope. Not yet.

She draped herself over his thigh, looking up at him from his lap through dark lashes. He was breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Oh, lover. I'm just getting started.

She licked her lips and held his eyes as she reached into his pants again and brought him out. She let him see her smile at the sight: he was really magnificent, if she was honest; perfectly sized, an ideal balance of thickness and length.

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and stroked down the length of him with her tongue. He cursed.

She felt his hands go into her hair – he seemed to really like doing that – and sift through the thick mass pooling in his lap, pulling it back to be able to see her. Perfect timing; she took an inch or so of his shaft into her mouth, then let it slide back out and continued to gently stroke up and down him with her tongue.

He hadn't let her really go to town till now – they'd both still been impatient for the fulfillment of actual sex. She didn't intend to waste the chance, and made him wait before she took him in her mouth again…and then it was only a little more, but she swirled her tongue around the head with a gentle suck. Alternating slowly, she took more and more of him in at a time, feeling the skin growing hotter and tighter and tasting salt at the head.

"Fuck, Leah…you'd better stop now…"

She already knew he was getting close, but really appreciated the courtesy of the warning. Rather than interrupt what she was doing for a verbal answer, she instead curled her arm over his thighs, holding on tighter, and quickened her pace slightly. Not going anywhere, lover. His hand fisted in her hair.

"Leah, I mean it…shit…"

She opened one eye, saw his head fall back, and at the same time felt him spasm and her mouth flooded with salt. As she felt him finish, she withdrew slowly, knowing he'd be sensitive, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

She propped herself on an elbow and tried not to look too pleased with herself. She probably wasn't succeeding.

He opened his eyes, letting his head loll to the side. "You didn't have to."

She grinned. "I wanted to. And it seemed like you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it." He smiled, eyes closed. "That's one way to put it."

He looked so languid that she was unprepared for him to grab her waist and toss her onto her back. He easily pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, and with the other, disposed of the rest of his clothes.

She thought she should probably be alarmed by the predatory look in his eyes.

"My turn."

He took hours with her.

When it was finally over, she rested her sweaty forehead against her bicep, catching her breath.

Her hands were still above her head, now tied to the leg of the couch with a scarf.

He hadn't been content with one orgasm from her. He'd teased and worked on her with fingers and lips and tongue…Three times? Maybe four? She'd seriously lost count.

She had love bites along the insides of both thighs - and marching up her neck, and across the smooth expanse of her stomach - that she hadn't bothered to fix yet.

That would require energy.

Her throat felt raw from how much she'd screamed his name.

Over.

And over.

And over.

When he'd finally entered her, he'd drawn that out too, pulling back and slowing down every time he got close. She was pretty sure she'd blacked out during the final climax, it had been so intense.

Her entire body felt like a wrung-out washcloth.

And the man who'd done it to her was lying on his side smiling.

"Okay," she sighed. "You win."