Marie was back at Logan's a few weeks later. She hadn't meant to come. It had happened without conscious thought. All she'd wanted was some air, some space from the claustrophobic feeling the mansion and its residents sometimes inspired. These days her feet seemed to be on autopilot, and what had started out as a walk across the grounds to clear her head had ended up at Logan's door.

She'd seen him several times up at the school over the last few weeks, although that atmosphere didn't much lend itself to talking freely. She missed the way he was with her here. He had a fire going inside and a warm light spilled out of the windows invitingly. The scent of wood smoke was heavy in the still air and the damp afternoon had chilled her to the bone. The tight grip of winter had eased. This was the first thaw, the first significant upwards bump in temperature they'd had in a long time. Winter probably had a few last snowfalls and cold snaps for them, but the dripping dampness signaled that spring wasn't too far away.

"Hey, kid. You gonna come in or stand on the porch all night?" Logan's voice rumbled through the closed door.

"I don't know."

"There's pizza and beer in here. Just sayin'."

That didn't surprise her. She'd gone with him earlier this week to choose a television and was well aware a pizza and beer night would soon follow.

"Flames-Rangers game too?" Her desire to watch it was what had indirectly led to her little walkabout this evening.

"C'mon in and find out for yourself."

Rolling her eyes, Marie let herself in, toed off her muddy boots by the door and sat down on the floor next to Logan. He had a very nice flat screen TV and no couch. It made her smile. There was an exquisitely thick, massive bearskin rug, however. Dark and silky. She'd asked him about it a week ago.

"Where did you get this, sugar? It's gorgeous."

He'd given her a hard look. "I don't buy furs, darlin'." He was insulted by the question. "I hunt."

Her sensual enjoyment of the soft pelt went a long way toward soothing his ruffled feathers. She'd stroked it lightly at first, and then seduced by the sleek feel, she'd sunk her fingers in deep, humming out her pleasure. Her cheek had followed her fingers; a slow sensual glide that eventually became a full-body stretch as she indulged in the shamelessly tactile sensation of the thick fur against her skin. The resulting tickle had made her laugh aloud. He'd chuckled at her sheer hedonism, but it had also made his blood burn.

"Grizzly?"

"Nah. Kodiak. They're a little bigger and a heap meaner. I don't normally hunt bears. S'too much meat for just one man, but the bastard triedta take my kill." He'd enjoyed that fight. He could feel the smile on his face even now, remembering how hard he'd had to work at winning. He'd skinned it and paid for it to be tanned the last time he'd been up north. The tannery had mailed it to the mansion more than a year ago. And there it had sat, waiting for this moment.

It felt good to sit on it with Marie now. It was hardly the first time he'd imagined her on it, though a great many of those were less platonic than this friendly meal.

There was something about the feel of the pelt against his skin that brought his more primal instincts to the fore. Perhaps it was due to the violent way he'd acquired it. He'd fought and bled and eventually triumphed over a worthy challenger, proudly roaring his primacy into the coming night. It felt good under him, too. Thick and soft with a lingering spice that spoke of freedom and wildness and places untamed and untouched by men.

Wolverine's thoughts were tangled with his own, a wild snarl of lust and possession. The images in his head were not soft or gentle. When he had her here in his mind, it was without rules or boundaries. The limits set by men had no place between them. Their joining was elemental. Savage. Sometimes brutal. In his fantasies, she was just as wild; meeting him as an equal, a partner in his fierce possession of his mate.

In Logan's mind, she was always naked here. Smiling at him, those red full lips wet from his kiss. Her hair was down, big and messy around her face. He'd never been very good about controlling that urge to put his hands in her hair. Her skin was flushed with pleasure and her body was warm and soft under his as they moved together.

The Wolverine's vision was more crude, but no less honest. His mouth, slick and glistening with her scent. Her mewls and grunts of pleasure as her skin slid against his, slick with sweat and saliva. His body thrusting heavily into hers from behind as his orgasm rose. It was not the first one. Trickles of pearly fluid dripped down her spread thighs as she moaned and thrashed under him, forcing herself back on him. She keened and shook as he filled her again. And again. And again.

The images flashed so sharply in his head that it was difficult for Logan to shake them away and stay in the present. The fur carried both their scents now and he felt a deep contentment as she sat beside him, absently stroking the soft pelt. He'd been thinking of this moment even as he'd skinned it. Such a simple pleasure. The pair of them enjoying it together. It was strange when life so precisely matched imagination. He slid one of the pizza boxes over her way with his foot.

"Mmm… smells good, sugar. Meat lovers'?"

"Yep. Molson and Sam Adams in the fridge. Bring me another while you're in there."

"Subtle." She retrieved the beers and sat back down. Logan smiled inwardly as she opened the box and took the biggest slice. He'd never seen someone so small eat so much. He liked it. Clearly that appetite was indicative of the size of her other appetites as well.

She seemed off tonight. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something there in the way she moved and the expression on her face. "What's up?"

Marie shrugged. "Same-old same-old." She took another slice. "What's the score?"

"One-nothin', Rangers."

"That sucks. Did I miss any fights?"

"Yep. A real good bloody one. Haven't seen one like that in a while. Game stopper." His teeth flashed.

"Really? Dammit. I just can't catch a break tonight."

He let that slide. He knew Marie well enough to know she wouldn't tell him anything if he pushed too hard right out of the gate. It had to be in her own time. The next time there was a break in the action, he got the beers and they watched in silence for most of the second period. She finally started talking beyond monosyllabic grunts towards the end of the game. Her scent was off and he put her somewhere between restless and mopey.

"What's up with you tonight, kid?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that. That ain't how we are." She'd always been a straight shooter with him. It was waning as she got older. She held back more, held her cards closer. The tighter he held onto it, the faster it seemed to slip away.

He thought that would just earn him another moody shrug. Instead she rounded on him, fire in her eyes. "Is it? Is that what you give me? The truth, straight up - no chaser? 'Cause it sure doesn't feel that way from where I'm sittin'."

He was a little surprised that she came out swinging, though it made him curious rather than defensive. What the hell was going on with her?

"Hey. I've never lied to you, even when the shit I haveta say ain't the shit you wanna hear." He blinked, aware she was still waiting for an answer. "I give ya what I can," he said quietly, thinking of all the times he'd edited his response because she wasn't ready to hear it.

"Well thank you, Saint Wolverine for anointing me with the holy crumbs from your table."

"Why dontcha tell me what ya really think. Christ." Somewhere along the way she'd started fighting like a woman who'd worked up a good head of mad and not a pissed off kid. He marked it with an internal stick of satisfaction, even if the words themselves pissed him off.

"Sugar, you don't want to know what I really think." He'd been running from that for years. Marie flinched inwardly. That wasn't really the truth. He knew how she felt. Or he'd had a pretty good idea, once upon a time. Back then he'd wanted something else with someone else. Now she had no idea what he wanted - or what he knew. All she knew was that being with him felt good, made her feel warm inside even when it hurt. Like it did tonight.

"Try me." He saw the flash of insecurity on her face and pressed harder, aware on some level it wasn't what either of them really needed. "That whatcha want? Go ahead, kid. Here's your chance. Throw down. Put all your cards on the table. Let's see whatcha got." I fuckin' dare you. He barely managed to keep from roaring the words at her. His heart was beating fast. He'd thought this conversation was a long way off. Maybe years.

Marie was silent, staring at him with wide eyes. She didn't like being put on the spot any more than he did. Her mind was reeling. Wasn't this what she'd been waiting for? Her shot to show him she wasn't that little girl anymore? And yet, she couldn't make the words come. She wasn't sure if that meant she wasn't ready to own up to them, or if she wasn't ready to accept the consequences after she did. Until she could work that out, it was probably better to keep them locked away. Even if he was willing, it might end badly and then she'd lose the only real stability she'd ever had. That was a lot for someone like her to risk.

The silence was painfully loud.

It stretched longer. A minute. Three. Five.

"That's what I thought," he said softly, draining his beer. His first assessment had been correct. Not a kid anymore. Not ready to lay her soul bare, either. It made him feel tired. He'd been on this road a long damn time.

"Sorry," she offered.

"You don't hafta be sorry. I shouldn't have pushed ya." Not ready-not-ready-notready. That engine was picking up steam again.

"Not that."

"What?" He felt the engine falter a little.

"I'm shitty company tonight. I should have just turned around and gone back instead of inflicting myself on you. It's not your fault. It's mine. I'm just still wound up about something that happened earlier today."

Talking to him usually helped her feel better when she was unbalanced, but this was new, more intimate territory and she felt unsure and embarrassed about sharing it with him. Things were changing between them. He was still her best friend, but lately there was something else. Sometimes it felt like his indulgent Uncle Logan routine was slipping, giving her glimpses of a very different man underneath.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Yes. No. Um... I'm not sure...?"

"Hey, you can talk me about anythin', you know that." The scent of her embarrassment was strong in his head. "Birds-n-bees, PMS, you name it..."

Marie rolled her eyes at his teasing. "I got my period and the accompanying lecture from my mama when I was eleven, thank you very much."

"Eleven?" The idea that she'd been physically able to have a child for a decade was hard for him to wrap his mind around. How was that even possible when she was barely more than a kid herself?

"Yup. Mother Nature - and the Boob Fairy - both came early to the D'Ancanto household."

"Boob Fairy?"

"From nothing at all to more than a handful the summer before seventh grade. It wasn't pretty."

"Jesus." There was an image he didn't need. He shook his head. She was wrong, too. More than a handful? Not quite, but then he had big hands.

"It gets better. I'd been doing my best to minimize things with tight tank tops under baggy t-shirts all summer. When Mama finally realized what had happened, she didn't even take me bra shopping straight off; she just gave me a few of hers since I'd clearly bypassed the whole training bra stage. They were those old-timey pointy style ones, you know?"

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I know whatcha mean." While he could understand her discomfort, he had a particular appreciation for that sort of vintage pinup style.

"It was really startling. From the appearance of nothing to full-on Madonna in her Vogue years in a day, literally. I think I lived in hoodies for a year, even after Gran took pity on me at Thanksgiving and took me shopping for bras that didn't make me look like a pinup girl." That she would choose that word made him feel uncomfortable, like she was looking into his head. Maybe she was on some level. Or maybe it was just coincidence.

The mental picture was beginning to get to him, regardless. Twined with the images from her erotic stories, it was disturbing rather than prurient. This conversation needed to move along. "What lecture did she give ya?"

"You know the one. Always carry extra tampons. Boys only want one thing. Sex is wrong unless you're married and if you touch yourself, you're gonna go to Hell."

"I'll save ya a seat, darlin'."

Marie giggled.

He whistled softly. "That's a lot to lay on someone still in elementary school."

"I know, right? You can imagine how things went when I manifested." That was another of the things they never talked about. He knew she'd kissed a boy and put him in a coma for three weeks and that she'd run away shortly after, but she'd never told him the nuts and bolts of what had transpired between those two events. She hadn't been too forthcoming about what had happened on the road, either.

"Mmph."

Given what she'd just shared with him, it wasn't too hard to imagine how it had all gone down. He felt bad that she'd had to be so tough so young, but he liked the strong woman she'd become because of it. "But all that was a long time ago and none of it excuses my behavior tonight. I was just..."

"What happened that got ya all riled up?"

"You really wanna know?" That was her serious voice. What could she possibly be that worked up over? His curiosity was beginning to slide towards concern.

"Do I look like the kinda man who asks shit he don't want an answer to?" That was especially true tonight. The color in her face and the trepidation in her scent had him fully engaged.

Marie huffed quietly. Logan and his economy of words was well known. Generally he didn't even bother. He had a whole vocabulary of grunts that covered everything from 'you bet' to 'go fuck yourself'. That he'd chosen to open himself to her said a lot, but she wondered if he was really ready for her to do the same.

Nothing had been the same since the night on his deck when she'd texted him her penname. Now when he looked at her, she wondered if he was thinking of her stories. Sometimes it was obvious that he was. She supposed that was only fair. Sometimes when she looked at him, all she could think about was how his hands had felt touching every bit of her the night he'd bathed her. It had been tender rather than salacious, but it had been thorough, too.

And just when they'd begun to get their equilibrium back, he'd opened Pandora's box on a frosty night as a bonfire licked hotly into the darkness. Watching. Being watched. And a shocking invitation to a sex club that had disturbed and aroused her. That night she'd slipped a hand under her in the small confines of her bed, thinking about his hands on her body as she arched and shuddered and bit her lip to keep from calling out his name. The tension thrummed between them even now, reclined as they were on the thick, warm fur.

Marie's brows drew together. There was so much locked away behind her teeth. She was desperate to let it out. To let him know a part of her she'd never shared.

"It's kinda a lot, sugar."

He recognized that tone. She was testing the waters. Seeking his guidance and approval. Wanting him to take charge. To take control. To tell her to tell him what was on her mind.

"Up to you, baby," he said instead, trying to chain his slipping control.

It had to be on her.

Up next: Welcome to the Jungle. Marie makes an intimate confession. Logan's invitation gets a response, but not the one he was expecting…