A/N: Yeah, this was originally part of chapter six, but I wanted to split up the fun stuff. Also, I thought I'd mention that chapters five, six, and, to a much lesser extent, seven were all written with the Foo Fighters "Best of You" on repeat. In fact, the whole idea for the story came to me while I was listening to it. So, if you're looking for mood music - there you go.
Chapter 7: Euphoria
His mind went blank when he reached for her. It wasn't a thought-out action; he didn't even realize he was doing it until it was done – his arms were around her and their lips met with a shock of heat and longing. With one hand, he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, while the other lost itself in her dark hair. When his lips melted against hers, her hands automatically flew up to push him away, but he wanted to touch her more than she wanted to push him away, and they both knew it. Her protesting hands wrapped around his neck as she began to respond to his urgent kiss. A feeling of euphoria drifted over him as her lips began to move against his, as they opened to him. He pulled her closer, craving her, wanting to feel her body pressed completely against him. He kissed her with everything in him, praying that she would understand. He needed her.
When he felt goosebumps rising on the skin beneath his fingers, he lost all pretence to sanity. Conscious thought flew out the window, and a quiet, desperate moan escaped from the back of his throat as they both fought for nearness, for satiation. The longing, the craving for her only intensified as the embrace became more passionate, more desperate.
She pulled away first, breaking through the cloud that had enveloped Logan's senses. As he felt her lips leave his, Logan realized that he couldn't breathe. He gasped twice, unable to even comprehend the ache that had quite suddenly sprung up inside him the moment her lips left his, and his lips moved toward hers once more, but she pulled away again and he forced himself to open his eyes. She was looking at him with a look of fear, and he suddenly remembered why exactly it was that he wasn't supposed to grab her and kiss her senseless. He fought against the craving that was racing through his blood, and mentally reviewed his symptoms. Euphoria and shortness of breath – the deceptive symptoms of both love and death – next he'd be collapsing on the floor.
Max disentangled herself from him quickly, and he couldn't look at her. She didn't say anything, didn't move away, but she watched him, watched for the Virus to do its job. When he finally found the courage to look at her again, there was a trail of tears running down her cheek, and Logan longed to reach up and wipe them away, but he knew she wouldn't let him. He should've apologized, but he couldn't. He wasn't sorry.
As time ticked slowly by, Logan found he wasn't collapsing, but almost... relaxing. The euphoria was still there (though it was quickly turning into regret), but his breathing was returning to normal. Max's look of fear was slowly changing into one he couldn't identify. She looked almost… hopeful.
"Max," he breathed, allowing the hope to resurface after so many empty months. Maybe he hadn't lost it after all.
"No," she whispered. "It's impossible. How could it…"
"Max… I'm fine," and he almost laughed.
She looked at him as if she was going to say more, but he wasn't going to listen. He grabbed her again, pushing his lips against hers desperately, happily, and the euphoria was back. She kissed him back almost violently, and then they were in motion. He pressed her against the window, his hands moving over her back, her stomach, through her hair, slowly exploring every inch of available skin. She moaned, sending a thrill through his body. Her hands kneaded his shoulders, pulling him closer, eliminating all the space between them. Their bodies merged together, and it no longer mattered where he ended and she began.
The kissed feverishly, losing themselves in the impossible beauty of it all. It was... tempestuous. It was fury, it was need, it was love, and it was desperation. It was a spiraling descent into what Logan could only feel would be the greatest joy of his life. He kissed her until they were both gasping for breath, and then his lips found her neck, and the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard escaped her lips in the form of a breathless moan of his name.
And then, it all came crashing down as Alec's voice interrupted their exhilarating reunion. "Whoa," he laughed, "on second thought, I think I'll go out tonight." He laughed again as he left, and Logan found himself thrust once more into the harsh light of reality.
Forcing himself to disregard the way Max's chest was lifting with every breath, Logan removed his hands from where they had slipped under her tank top, stroking the satiny feel of her bra. He met her eyes, and saw the love and desire mirrored within them. She dropped her gaze, and smiled shyly, her hands releasing their grip on his shirt and in his hair.
"Sorry," Logan whispered, exhaling slowly, and trying to gain control over his breathing and the frantic beating of his heart.
Max laughed quietly, still looking at the ground, "You didn't do it alone."
He didn't know what to say. They'd kissed. He was still alive. His thoughts were racing about in his mind at an unintelligible pace. His lips burned, his fingers ached, and he was aroused. He couldn't have put into words the thousands of emotions that had erupted inside him the moment their lips met. He just prayed she would look up, or speak, or do anything other than stand there with her head bowed, staring at her shoes. He was dying to know what she was thinking – no pun intended.
"How…?" Max asked haltingly, "How did this happen? Did the virus just… disappear?" She looked at him then, and he saw the confusion running through her incredibly expressive eyes. "It couldn't, right? That has to be…"
"Incredibly unlikely," Logan finished for her. He shrugged, and it was his turn to look away, unable to look at her and not touch her. "I don't know. Have you… been to the hospital lately?"
"No," she answered quietly. "I've been fine. I mean, there's always the seizures, and the other… less fantastic aspects of my being, but other than that…"
"You still have seizures?" Logan asked suddenly. She hadn't mentioned the seizures since she'd returned from Manticore. He'd just assumed that they had fixed whatever the problem was, but he was wrong. She'd been suffering, and she hadn't told him. The knowledge stung him in a way he wouldn't have expected.
"Yeah," Max admitted. "Manticore took the implant out, and they stopped for a while, but about a year ago they started up again. I don't have them very often though; it's not a big deal."
"You get your Tryptophan alright? Do you need any more?"
"Relax," Max smiled. "I'm good."
She moved closer and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. He exhaled slowly, capturing her hand in both of his and bringing it to his lips. Her smile turned shy, but she didn't look away. Logan felt a thrill as he took advantage of the moment to study her eyes. They were fascinating, really, deep and dark and emotional. Looking into those eyes had a way of stealing his breath, his thoughts, and his sanity. She seemed to be studying him just as intently, and a blanket of beautiful silence seemed to descend slowly over them, sheltering them from the rest of the world.
"What now?" Max asked him, her eyes searching for answers. Logan clasped her hand tightly and dropped his eyes to the ground. He knew what he had to do. He didn't want to do it, but he didn't have much of a choice. He laughed quietly, not unaware of how absurd everything seemed, but then his eyes met hers again, and he meant the next words he spoke.
"Max, I… it's… been a long time, but…" he swallowed thickly, "I can wait. We don't have to rush anything…" Max cut him off then by wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to his. He pressed back firmly, slowly allowing his hands to travel around her waist, his fingers burning as they massaged the skin between the hem of her tank top and jeans.
As he felt her open her mouth to him, Logan forgot about waiting. He forgot about doing what was "right." This was right. Kissing Max was right. Holding Max was right. He knew, because he could feel it; he could feel it in his gut. He just knew. All thought began to fade as their mouths danced and their hands wandered. Then her lips left his and she was whispering into his ear.
"I don't want to wait any longer." It was desperate, breathless, and the reaction it caused in Logan was indescribable. He shivered and pulled her closer, giving up completely to the feeling of having her in his arms. They began to move, this time Max leading, and Logan knew they were heading toward the bedroom. He pulled away, one last time, to look into her eyes, to make sure she was sure. She seemed to read the question in his eyes, because she nodded confidently. It was all Logan needed. He dove into her lips again, ready to embrace what was about to happen.
A/N: What happened to the big V? Damned if I know. Damned if I care. The sum of what I know about science is very small, as it has never been my forte. Plus, a stupid plot device deserves whatever it gets, as far as I'm concerned, and, today, that means it gets about a minute of screen time so that we (that's the Royal "we," in case you were wondering) can (sort of) explain it away. Cheers!