"Not bad, kid," he commented, finishing up the third damper. Logan rolled the blackened foil into a ball and tossed it across the room and into the trashcan. He pointed at the remains of the half-eaten piece in front of Marie. "You gonna finish that?"
Marie made a face and pushed it toward him. "God, no. I can't believe I tried to eat two of them. I can already feel it sticking to my thighs."
Logan snorted, shoved the rest of the damper in his mouth. His cheeks bulged.
"What was that snort about?" She had to wait thirty seconds for him to finish chewing the impromptu pastry.
He swallowed noisily. "Why do women always do that?"
"Do what?" Marie slouched back in the meager kitchen chair.
"Eat a great meal and then make some comment about their weight."
"Says Mr. Metabolism over there."
"Nah, I'm serious. You're too skinny. Women are different from men for a reason; they're supposed to have curves."
She snickered and hooked her index finger over the neckline of her already low-cut camisole and pulled it down, exposing a good deal of skin. "What do you call these, angles?"
Whoa, was that a bad idea. Or good idea, depending on how one looked at it; the casual air that had lasted through dinner dissipated, leaving a thick tension between them as his hazel eyes zeroed in on her cleavage. Feeling like she had committed some sort of friendship faux pas, Marie re-adjusted her shirt and cleared her throat.
"I'll just clean up then." She grabbed the tinfoil that was scattered over the surface of the small table and stood, making a beeline for the trashcan and then to the kitchen sink. She switched subjects. "So, sensei, how did I do today?"
He ran his hand over his face, through his hair, and eyed her cautiously; he'd been giving this very subject some thought while the damper was cooking, and he thought he had come up with a solution. It was a very hands-on solution, which made him slightly nervous. Especially since his train of thought was pulling into a station that was decorated with posters of Marie looking very, very sexy.
Oh, fuck it, he decided. He'd just take a really really cold shower.
"I have an idea," he started. He moved to the dilapidated couch, sat down and patted the floor in front of him. "C'mere."
"What?" She looked incredibly doubtful, especially when he cracked his knuckles. It sounded like cracking walnuts.
"Well, your main weakness is your fear of being touched."
"Duh. So?"
"I'm gonna give you a backrub."
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Logan's hands all over her bare skin? The thought excited and terrified her at the same time. "No thanks."
It was time to push her a little bit, wounded psyche or no. "Come on, Marie, what are you afraid of? A little touching?"
"I don't…I'm not…" Her mouth opened and closed as her brain tried to work out exactly why this was such a bad idea. It made her uncomfortable on many levels; in her mind a small part of her still held onto the belief that her skin was dangerous. She'd be the first to admit she was still skittish about being touched…that's why she was out here, right? To get used to the idea.
Then there was the thought of Logan being the person who was doing the touching. Hadn't she fantasized just this morning about how nice being able to touch might be, when it was with the right person?
And the right person was grinning at her, patting the space on the floor in front of him in encouragement.
"Come on. What are you, chicken?" He threw her own words back at her.
She groaned inwardly but allowed him to grab the hem of her tank top and tug her toward him. She sank to the floor between his spread thighs, her back to him. Nervous, she clasped her palms in her lap, holding herself rigid and away from leaning against his legs.
"Ya gotta relax, darlin'," he coaxed.
She'd almost been a mutant sacrifice on Liberty Island. She'd flown the Blackbird when she had no idea how to control it. She had faced a mob of angry humans out for the blood of mutants. Dr. Sinister captured her and her DNA was altered. She could handle this without losing her cool.
Right?
She scooted back, her spine flat against the base of the couch. She ignored the denim-clad thighs on either side of her body and stared forward. Focus on breathing; use the Ujayi breath to center her mind, release her anxieties, calm-
Her focus broke as he swept her hair away from her nape and placed his hands on her neck, kneading softly. She stiffened at the initial contact, her breath caught in her throat at the intimacy of the moment. His skin was work-roughened and it sent shivers down her spine. His fingers stroked her nape firmer now, his thumbs smoothing their way up her neck and into her hairline. Her head fell forward of its own volition, her body relaxing as it registered just how damn good it really felt.
It DID feel really good, and it made her incredibly nervous. Unable to help herself, Marie babbled.
"I never had a backrub before. Kitty and Jubes took me to a day spa once but I got too nervous about my skin, even with my bodystocking, and I ended up backing out and going for pizza while they had sea salt scrubs, or whatever you call it. That was awhile ago, though. It just never seemed like a good idea, you know-"
"Marie?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"Shut the fuck up," Logan growled amiably, his fingers digging into the knots in her shoulders.
She swallowed and shut up, focusing on becoming comfortable with the skin-on-skin contact. His fingernails were lightly scratching at her scalp, tugging on her hair, and before she could help it, she actually moaned.
Logan froze for a second. Jesus, did she always sound so sexy when she was relaxed? The importance of this moment, of his touch was not lost on him; this was the first time someone had touched her, really touched her, in years. He had started out with the noble intentions of a martyr: to help her get over her fear of skin-on skin contact. But this? This was torture; her skin was like those little silk scarves she used to wear; creamy and flawless beneath his rough hands. And those little noises she was making…he wanted to groan.
"See," he rasped instead, trying to ignore what his body wanted to do, "your skin's just skin. Once you get over that, get comfortable with it, you'll be able to defend yourself-"
"Logan?" she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Shut the fuck up."
She was facing away from him but he could hear the smile in her voice.
He shut up.
Dusk was rapidly approaching. The light was growing dimmer and dimmer, and the only sounds around them were the chirp of crickets (they wouldn't be around much longer; the cold was setting in) and a little light moan from Marie whenever he hit a spot that felt really good.
Logan worked his way down her spine and then back up again, smoothing out the knots in her shoulder blades with his thumbs. After awhile she was completely relaxed, all tension drained, and there was really no reason to continue…but he didn't stop. Instead he ran his fingers through her hair for awhile, moving his massage from her shoulders to her arms, her hands, and back up to her scalp.
God, was she purring? Jesus Christ.
Her hair was as soft as her skin, even the streak of white. He kinda missed her long hair. The better to fall over him in a shower of burgundy and cream silk when she was on top-
Logan licked his lips. She was limp in his arms.
"Marie?"
No response.
"Marie? Darlin'?"
Her head fell to the side and she uttered a light snore. She was fast asleep.
This was the second time he had to carry her to bed. Unconsciously, she curled around him, drawn to his warmth like a plant is to the sun. He had to untangle himself from her as he lay her down, covering her with the faded quilt.
Logan stood at the foot of her bed. He was tempted to crawl under the blanket next to her. There was so much about Marie that was tempting: her smile, her warmth, those long legs and smooth skin…and most importantly, the way her energy lulled him into a good night's sleep. Yeah, he wanted that more than anything.
He wanted to help her.
He wanted to be helped by her.
He wanted to be next to her.
He wanted her.
He couldn't ignore it. He couldn't deny it. He did. He wanted to be with Marie, and for the first time, he didn't try to lock the thought away in some mental closet. He wanted her. It was a revelation of biblical porportions. If life were a movie, a light would be shining on him and there would be triumphant trumpets in the background.
Logan never twitched a muscle. He just continued to stare at her with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He could have been watching two old men playing chess in Central Park, for all the animation that was on his face.
He wanted her. Needed her.
And Marie? What did she need?
A protector? A friend? A lover?
She deserved all that and more. She deserved a partner…a husband. Someone to worship her. Someone to be with her Always with a capital A.
As long as he could remember, he had never been an Always kinda guy.
Logan could also see past the desire to What Was Now and What Came Next. Now, Marie was confused. She was learning what it was like to be human.
And if they became lovers, what came next? He'd been on his own so long, and went through women like some people go through Kleenex. As he stared at her, her face serene in the moonlight, Logan just couldn't make himself believe that he was what was best for her.
Logan backed out of the small bedroom and shut the door tightly behind him.