Author's note: Sorry for the posting delay. I have no excuse! I freely admit blowing off the final vetting of this chapter for a hot date with a girlfriend I hadn't seen in forever. Hey, the dessert was dead sexy! That counts as hot, right? Heh. (Chocolate custard with rivers of warm fudge for those who wanna know.) We talked about work and school and men and sex and writing… Damn good evening, in my book. Onward!

Marie smiled as she made her way to Logan's door, passing his truck and the bike on her way up the gravel drive. Both were shiny and clean and she felt a start of warmth. Her best friend's father had once told her to never go on a first date with a man who wouldn't clean up for her or who didn't wash his vehicle first. She was thankful for whatever lingering sense of old-fashioned chivalry prompted Logan make the effort. They both knew it wasn't a real date, but it still made her feel good. Special.

There was an unexpected knock at his door. Logan jerked it open and growled, "What?" before he saw who was standing there. She was early. Or maybe she'd changed her mind about going? She was dressed in jeans and a hoodie and had a bag slung over her shoulder. In her hand was a feather she must have found on the walk over. She was twirling it absently in her fingers. It fell forgotten into the wind at the look on Logan's face.

"Um..." Marie's eyes widened at the tone of his voice and at the view. He was shirtless, in jeans with damp hair and he had shaving cream on his face. His voice had been impersonal and sharp, a tone he normally reserved for other people. Never her.

"Heh. Sorry, darlin'. Didn't realize it was you. Can only smell the shavin' cream." He toed the door open with his bare foot in invitation and disappeared back inside. "You're early." More than an hour. He was supposed to pick her up at the mansion at seven. His brow arched as he walked back into the bathroom and called, "What's with the bag? It ain't a sleepover."

Marie giggled. "I was kinda hoping to get ready here. Jubes' radar is up and she's way too interested in what I'm wearing and where I'm going tonight. I sorta wanted to avoid the third degree about all of that."

Jubilee was flighty, but she could be remarkably astute when she chose to apply herself. It didn't help that Remy was on a pick-up with Hank tonight. There was nothing to distract Jubes, and under the circumstances, being the subject of her intense focus was a little disconcerting. Especially when what Marie wanted was to fly under the radar as quietly and as covertly as possible.

"Suit yourself. Be done in a minute." He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, running a razor under the water with one hand and spreading the shaving cream along his chin and neck with the other.

"Can- can I watch?"

His gaze swung to hers, trying to work her out. Prurience or something else? Both?

"I used to watch my dad shave on the weekends when I was a little girl. I miss it. One of the few good memories, you know?" Her eyes sparkled. "Plus, now I think it's just sexy as hell."

Both, then.

He nodded. "Sure, kid." He couldn't recall sharing this intimacy with anyone in the last twenty years. It was strange, in some ways more personal than sex. The intimate care of his body. It was a little uncomfortable, but he liked it. He liked feeling her eyes on him. And he liked that she wanted to look probably more than he should.

Marie dropped her bag and flopped down on his sleeping pallet, smiling at the new black t-shirt still in the plastic packaging next to his belt and socks before her gaze wandered back to him. She watched, enthralled by this private act of a stoic man who so rarely gave up those pieces of himself. His head tilting this way and that. The glide of the razor on the corded muscles in his neck. The way his throat worked when he swallowed. His movements were swift and efficient, the strokes smooth and practiced.

It was over too soon.

He didn't actually shave all that much, just a little around his mouth, over his chin, and along his neck. He rinsed his face and rubbed a towel over his neck and chest, preening for her just a bit. He knew what his body did to women and he wasn't above using it to his advantage.

"Mmm..."

Throwing down the towel, he left the bathroom. "So, I pass muster then?"

Marie looked up at him from the bed as he threaded his belt through the loops of his jeans. The act was strangely hypnotic and she felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to sink to her knees in front of him. She cleared her throat with a grin. "You definitely have my vote for the King of Sparta, sugar."

He chuckled. "You say some shit, you know?"

"Yep." She grinned at him.

Logan rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. "Don't know why I bother." Except they both knew why he'd bothered tonight. "The five o'clock shadow will probably be back before we even leave."

"It suits you." She rose up on her knees, the desire to stroke a fingertip over his freshly bare chin was strong.

He saw her check the impulse and moved closer. "Go ahead if you wanna. You won't hurt me."

Her touch was hesitant, just the brush of the pads of her fingers over his lips and chin. She smiled, not because of the smooth, soft skin under her fingertips, but because she'd managed the touch without hurting him. She did it again, this time allowing herself a little more pressure and letting her fingers trail down his neck before pulling away.

Logan caught her covered arm but didn't move away. "Tickles," he grunted.

"You're ticklish?"

"Ah, no." Shit. "No I ain't." Much.

"You are!" The tips of his ears turned red and Marie was completely charmed.

He growled at her and was surprised when she threw back her head and laughed.

"You know that doesn't work on me, right?" At least not the way he probably intended.

"Jesus. Get goin' already." He sat down to put on his socks and boots. "Unless you were thinkin' of lettin' me watch you shave?" The deadpan delivery was perfect, but she caught the little twitch of his lips.

Marie rolled her eyes at him, grabbing her bag and heading for the small bathroom. "In your dreams, cowboy."

"Mmph." Wasn't that the damned truth?

Logan smiled at the closed bathroom door and then winced at the sound of Marie singing - badly - in his shower as he finished dressing. Lord love her, but that girl couldn't carry a tune worth a damn. He was finished and ready to go before she'd even turned the water off. Grabbing a beer, he sat down to wait, flicking through the channels absently as the sun began to set.

It felt strange having her here like this. Their energy was different than it had ever been before, though he was aware part of it probably had to do with his anticipation of the evening. It was startling to realize he was enjoying the wait and the knowledge she was grooming herself under his roof, taking care with her appearance and her attire for him tonight, much the same as he'd done for her. His fingers brushed over his mouth and chin as he thought about her wonder at the small change in his own appearance. He lit a cigar and sat back, soaking in the strange sensation.

In all the years he could remember, he'd never waited on a good woman to get ready for a nice evening out, and yet the quiet satisfaction he took from it wasn't wholly unfamiliar. Maybe he'd been lucky enough in the years he'd lost to have a woman worth waiting for like he was waiting for Marie tonight. He hoped so.

Normally he didn't pay much attention to her clothes, but tonight he wondered what she'd wear. He'd specifically not said anything about it because he was curious to see what choice she'd make all on her own. Demure? Sexy? Slutty? Covered from head to toe? A bit of skin? He hoped she wouldn't do that thing some women did with their makeup where they made their eyes black and dark and painted their lips the same shade as their skin. Marie had gorgeous full lips and he preferred them rose pink and wet, like she'd just been kissed good and hard.

Tonight he let his mind wander to places that he'd steered clear of for years. It wasn't the first time she'd used his shower, but it was the first time he allowed himself the sensual pleasure of listening in to her every breath and sigh and splash and letting it fuel a fantasy without guilt or shame coloring the experience.

Hard nipples under a warm spray. The scent of his soap on her skin. Iridescent bubbles following the path of least resistance and inviting his hands and mouth to follow. His forehead on her breastbone. Her fingers in his hair, holding him to her breast. It didn't feel like any sex he could ever remember wanting and he had no idea what that meant.

Steam and scent became a pleasurable friction as slow and sweet gave way to something with a sharper edge. Her lip in his teeth. A feminine grunt as he pushed inside in one unforgiving stroke. All in. His growl at the hand on his ass, pulling him deeper. Her legs open to him. Her body, too. Sweet and slippery; a glide and viscosity a world away from the hot cascade of water slicking them both. Hands pinned to the wall and the cold tile at her back… and then her front. And then laughter because he was too big and she was too damn petite to make that work smoothly on the first try.

Later, a firm hand on her jaw. The crash of their bodies and a hard relentless press. Not playful now. Urgent and needy. Her thighs around his hips again and her heel digging into his ass as he pounded her against the wall until they both came. His hand between her legs after. Not to soothe. To feel what he'd done. Proof it hadn't been just another dream.

Logan wondered if Marie had any idea how many times he'd stood there in that same, small enclosed space; head bent with one hand resting on the wall and the other between his legs as thoughts of her played behind his closed eyes while the hot spray beat against his broad back. Sometimes it was just that. Just longing and a simple touch. Sometimes it was a rough, wild slide through a clenched fist that ended in grunts broken by a chain of filthy words and the heavy spatter of semen on the shower floor.

Was she thinking about him now as her small, white hands slid over her body and between her legs? Her admission that she wanted to see him aroused tonight by what they saw together certainly suggested that possibility. The stories she'd written seemed to back that idea up in a way that made him want to forget about what was good and right and sink into the Wolverine's unapologetic animal nature. No rules. No boundaries. No guilt. Just instinct. And blissful, primal freedom.

Christ. He didn't even know what to make of that. It was terrifying. And ruthlessly compelling.

She was here, now, naked and vulnerable. He'd been naked behind that same door only minutes ago. It amused him in a perversely macabre sort of way. They seemed to always be just slightly out of step. Right from the beginning. Maybe what she wanted from him tonight would change that a little. The anticipation had him tightly wound.

Logan got up, built a fire for later and poured himself a drink. It was only half past six, but he was restless and a little on edge. He pocketed his keys and dug his wallet from his jeans, checking to be sure he had enough cash for the evening. He knew he did. He'd checked earlier, but it gave his hands something to do.

The condoms he'd put in his jacket pocket weighed heavily on his mind. It had just been automatic at first. Wallet. Lighter. Cigar. Phone. Condoms. Only, tonight promised to be anything but usual. He knew he shouldn't have done that, but he couldn't make himself take them out either. Jesus, he was really fucked in the head. He was aware he shouldn't be doing any of this and yet he knew he wasn't going to stop. He was looking forward to tonight and whatever it brought for them. He'd promised to keep her safe. Beyond that was anyone's guess.

The soft click of the bathroom door was barely audible, except if one was listening for that specific sound among all others. She stepped out, still in the process of finishing the final details. His eyes flicked to her and he felt the floor fall away.

Simple. Understated. And hot as fuck.

Her hair was up, smoothed back into a high ponytail. Supple black suede pants molded themselves to her lithe frame. She'd topped them with a satin corset in a verdant shamrock green. He'd never seen her wear anything that revealed so much of her skin before. It laced up the back and the black ties nipped in her slender waist, hanging enticingly and drawing his eye to the sweet curve of her ass. Her boots were black and sexy; not platform fuck-me heels, still stylish but low enough that she could fight in them if she had to.

That was his girl right there. Hot as hell and ready to throw down if it came to that. She hadn't noticed him looking yet because her attention was on smoothing a long, black opera glove up her arm. Those were his favorites, soft and silky. One arm was still milky white and naked and he realized he found the sight more exciting than the most graphic hardcore images. It was that juxtaposition that finally jarred him into action.

Crushing out the cigar, he rose to his feet, staring raptly as she put on the other glove and meticulously stroked the fit right. Watching her stroke her skin like that was maddening. There was something very erotic about watching her put on those satiny gloves. She turned to face him. Face made up like a vintage pinup girl; cat eye liner and red lips, wet and dewy. He felt his mouth curve into a smile.

He wanted to kiss her. To turn her in his arms and put his mouth on that gorgeous alabaster flesh; a strong bite right there at the nape of her neck. His brain, his every instinct, was screaming at him to mark her. He crushed that down and said instead, "You look real beautiful, darlin'." He grinned wider. "Hot as hell, too."

She flushed with pleasure. "Thanks, sugar. You like?" She twirled slowly for his inspection. "I wasn't sure if it was right..." The only thing really out of her comfort zone was the new corset. The rest of the clothes were from her closet.

"It's right." Much, much too right. As for the club, anything goes, but she'd managed to choose something tailored to his specific tastes. He wondered if she'd done that on purpose or if it had merely been coincidence. "I like it real good," his voice was low and smoky. "I'm proud to have ya on my arm, darlin'." Proud and damn lucky.

Her smile was warm and genuine, full of real affection and he felt it down to his soles.

"You look nice too." He still looked like himself, but he was wearing a new shirt and his good boots. He'd taken the time to clean them up nicely, and paired with a black button down and his favorite leather jacket, he had her pulse jumping.

"Thanks." He couldn't seem to take his eyes from her, either.

"Of course, I like you best barefoot in jeans and nothing else but that endearing swagger, but I'll manage somehow."

"Hmph." Logan snorted, unsure if she was truly teasing, but he was amused and pleased to see Rogue peeking through. He was beginning to miss her now when she was quiet too long.

"It's not too much skin?" And that was Marie, back again.

"S'fine, darlin'. You don't gotta worry."

"If you're sure."

"Baby, you know me. I don't do subtle. If it wasn't fine, you'd sure as hell know it."

Her full-throated laugh was silvery and sensual. "I suppose you're right."

"Generally am."

"Oh!" she said, dashing back to the bathroom. Her heels clicked on the floor. The feminine sound made him smile. She was back a moment later. "I almost forgot." In her hands was a black satin ribbon on which she'd strung the sea glass pendant he'd given her. "Could you put this on for me? It's too hard with the gloves." Satin on satin on alabaster. His jaw clenched.

Nodding, he took it from her. "Sure, kid."

She stepped close and turned to put her back to him, brushing the long silky fall of her ponytail aside to bare her slim neck for him.

He very nearly bit her. It was a close thing. He couldn't keep the growl of approval back and didn't even try. It rumbled low and deep as he tightened the satin around her throat. Brushing a thumb down her delicate nape, he stepped away before he did something he couldn't take back. This was her night and he wasn't about to fuck it up before they'd even walked out the door.

The effect was pitch perfect. It wasn't quite a collar, but it was suggestive enough to hit a few of his major triggers. His gift hung in the delicate hollow of her throat and it appeased something in him to see it there, marking her as his.

He cleared his throat. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I just need my coat."

She turned from him to get it and he took a moment to enjoy the view. He was surprised to realize that her body had changed. When he'd seen her naked in the bath he'd been looking at the parts rather than the whole. He saw it clearly now. Her baby fat was gone, her face more slender and angular. Her body was leaner, more sinuous and leggy. Her breasts were a little smaller. She had a fighter's build now, toned and strong. Even the way she moved was different, confident and graceful.

Her mutation wasn't the only thing that made her dangerous. She'd put in a lot of hard hours training between the time she'd taken the Cure and the time her mutation reasserted itself. She wasn't that scared kid anymore. Somewhere along the line she'd slipped from a girl to a woman and he'd missed it. It was profoundly disturbing.

He followed her, helping her into her coat. It was the first time he'd ever done that and it made her blush. The shearling aviator jacket had been a gift from him two birthdays back. It was the perfect complement to her outfit, especially after she wound a sheer green scarf around her neck and looked up at him through her lashes.

Sweet Christ, she was sex and danger and innocence wrapped in leather and smiling at him with excitement shining in her eyes.

He was so fucked.

Up next: Rebel Yell. In the midnight hour, she cried, "More, more, more!"