The darkness surrounded them, feeding the sense of expectation and excitement. Logan's keen senses easily caught the sound of movement on the stage. He could see just fine in the low light and smiled as he watched the props being set up and the couple taking their places. Marie sat at his side, still with anticipation and holding her breath.
A pale blue light winked into existence. A deeper cobalt light followed. They both grew in intensity until they lit the figures on the dais. The colors grew warmer, like a sunrise. First a rosy twilight and then warm peach. Music now. Soft and ethereal. The sound of birds and wind in the trees. A river. A cello. The light changed. Becoming dappled, like sunlight filtering through a canopy of trees.
A nude woman lay on sturdy wooden platform. It was low and smooth, perfectly suited to her sinuous form. A virile man with dark, unruly hair and a chiseled body knelt at her side. He was wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans and a knowing smile. The woman's long red hair spilled off the platform, a river of fire to the slick wood under the man's knees. A crimson silk blindfold covered her eyes.
He had a rope in his hand. More was coiled carefully, precisely, beside him on the floor. He was slowly dragging it down her skin. It made her shiver and her pulse speed. His was steady, rhythmic; his breathing carefully controlled.
They were both aroused and excited. Logan could smell it. Whether it was from what they were about to do or the fact they were going to do it with an audience present, or both; it was clearly affecting them. Blood and breath and expectation beating a sensual tattoo against his sensitive ears.
Logan put his lips to Marie's ear. "You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Shit. He'd wanted her to be able to experience this like he did. With all his senses. He wanted her to be able to hear the gasps and feel the sounds against her sensitive skin, to catch every little movement with quick eyes and to smell the musky scent of their rising pleasure. To taste it in the air the way he could.
"Them. His breathin'. Her heartbeat." He knew she couldn't. He was a fool to think she would.
"Not all of us have your gifts, Logan." She rolled her drink in her palm, nervous and excited about what she might see tonight now that the proper opening show had started.
"You could if you wanted."
"What?" She turned away from the stage to meet his eyes.
"You could have 'em if you wanted." He let that settle a moment. "A little touch is all you'd need to take me in. "
Her breath caught. "Oh."
She had imagined the possibility of many different outcomes for this night of firsts with Logan, but that had never been among them. To take him into her? Like that? It was a different sort of penetration than she'd considered, and wholly thrilling. She had not expected the offer. Such a decadently intimate exchange. Her heart thumped wildly at the very idea.
"Won't hurt me none and it'd make it better for you."
"You sure?" She didn't want to cause him pain, but there was a tremulous excitement in her voice that she couldn't hide.
Logan didn't respond verbally. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve instead, baring his thick forearm. He set it on the table between them, palm up in invitation.
He felt the sultry heat of her body as Marie leaned in, almost brushing against him but not quite. "You gonna give me permission to touch you, cowboy?" Her breath was sweet in his ear, warm and smoky from the bourbon.
Ah, Christ. He felt himself start to get hard. It was dark, but she'd notice it any minute now if she looked.
He nodded.
She shook her head, feeling her power as a woman stir, given a healthy shot in the arm by the fiery alcohol warming her insides. "No. Say it. I want to hear you say it."
Jesus fuck. She was burning him up. "Touch me."
He had expected her to slip off a glove and run a fingertip over his skin. He was not at all prepared for her to lower her head and nip sharply at his fingertip before ghosting her full, soft lips down his arm. They stopped on his pulse point. He felt her smile against his skin when his pulse raced under her lips. There was no hiding that.
The connection didn't open right away. It took a little while these days. Even after years of working on it, control still eluded her, but she had a good twenty seconds now before the pull began if she really concentrated. Tonight he could tell she wanted to make it last. There was no hiding that, either.
Her breath was hot on his skin. Those full, red lips pressed lightly against the inside of his wrist. The waiting was maddening. For one wild moment, he even imagined he felt the warm, wet flicker of her tongue... and then that electric tingle raced under his skin, a heady buzz lighting up all his senses before the draw began to pull at him.
She lifted her mouth almost instantly.
"You didn't get enough," he rasped. He wasn't even dizzy. Just rock hard from the buzz and the feel of her lips on his skin.
"I don't want to hurt you." She didn't, he knew, but her pupils were already blown wide. He was like a drug inside her. Ah, fuck. Fuck. That predatory feeling rose, hot and sharp.
He snorted. "Take more." It wasn't a request. She tried to turn his hand over and put her lips against his knuckles but he stopped her. "No." The unique musculature and metal covered bones under her fingers felt heavy and exciting. She could taste him on her lips. "Not there. They might come out…."
It was entirely possible his claws would spring out reflexively if her mouth was on him when the pull started again. Logan didn't want to hurt her and he wasn't sure he could control his reaction, or even retract them if they did emerge. Sometimes when that red haze took him, it was a while before he could regain enough of himself to force them to his will. And, Christ, it had never been like this. He was feeling wild and strangely out of control. He had decades of carnal experience on her and yet one simple touch had reduced him to ash.
This time she nuzzled her cheek into his palm, clearly luxuriating in the pleasure of physical touch before she pressed her lips back to his pulse point.
Logan counted to twenty-three, feeling the blood pound under her lips and between his legs before that sweet fire licked under his skin, rippling and drawing. The world faded away until it was just her lips on him and the delicious satiation of rushing into her, unchecked. It was not unlike the physical rush of an intense orgasm; he was pouring himself inside her, just in a different way.
It felt fucking good. And then he realized he could hear her.
She was speaking against his skin. Counting.
One Mississippi… Two Mississippi….
Chuckling, he stopped her at five, dizzy and breathless, but still quite able to stay in the chair despite his spinning head. He wasn't entirely sure how much of it was due to what she'd taken from him—and how much was due to how she'd taken it.
Goddamn.
She was awash in sensation. The last two times he'd touched her, what she'd gotten was predominantly fear and regret, underscored by a deep pain that had no words. This time it was different. Warmer. Wilder. Playful with a hungry edge. A beautiful light inside her. "You okay?" she managed to push out, her concern for him overriding even the wild tumult of Logan's considerable gifts pulsing fiercely under her skin.
"Fuck yeah. Got a real good buzz goin' now, darlin'." That was the damn truth. It took a lot of alcohol to make him feel like this, and she'd accomplished it with a simple touch. It wasn't fading fast either, the way it did with bourbon or whiskey.
She'd forgotten what a rush his power was. So big and full inside her. Wild and exciting and familiar, too. "Mmm…. Thanks, sugar." She giggled, raking her gloved hands down his chest with a saucy wink. It felt so different with him. Fuller. Richer. Probably because his well was considerably deeper than most, but also because the Wolverine dwelled there, too. His energy was beautifully, unapologetically savage. "You fill me up real good." There was no mistaking that innuendo. Her hands lingered on his chest and then fell from him to press to her own body in amazement. "I love how you feel inside me."
Holy hell.
She'd clearly gotten a healthy dose of the Wolverine's disregard for social convention along with a shot of enhanced senses. He could see the golden glimmer in her eyes.
"Shit," he murmured, grinning back at her, quite unable to bring himself to be sorry for something he enjoyed so damned much.
"Yeah."
"You good?" He didn't need to nod towards her head. She knew what he meant.
"Hell, yes. Mmm… I feel so..." her hands wandered down her body, from her rib cage to her belly, pressing back against the fullness inside her. She had no words to express the feeling, but the way he watched her hands run over her body seemed to telegraph her meaning well enough, if the look on his face and the low rumble of approval in his chest was any indication.
They'd momentarily forgotten the show. A few sets of eyes had left the performers and were openly watching the two of them with more than a little curiosity.
A gasp from the woman on the platform drew back most of the wandering eyes, theirs included. The man on the stage was slowly, artfully, binding the woman with an intricate series of loops and knots. With every wrap of the thin hemp rope, the woman's heart beat faster.
"You hear it now?" he rasped into her ear. With his gifts coursing inside her, they both knew he didn't need to be so near to be heard. He wanted to be close. Needed it, maybe.
Beside him, she nodded in the inky darkness, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth, enjoying his breath on her neck and the warmth of his big body next to hers.
"What's that scent?" she whispered softly.
"Dunno. Describe it." It could be anything. This place was a veritable cornucopia of smells.
"It's…." she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. He did the same, wondering what had caught her attention. "..… wild… fecund. Like wet soil. Sort of musky-sweet? It kinda, I don't know, tickles… in here." She opened her eyes and tapped her head.
His teeth flashed in the darkness.
"That's arousal, darlin'."
It was spicy and earthy and made that place deep in his brain itch and burn. Sometimes it was intense and amazing. Other times it was annoying as fuck, like a splinter in his mind, driving him crazy. There were very few scents that had the power to make him completely lose focus. He couldn't concentrate at all when Marie was fertile. The Wolverine was much too primal not to respond to Nature's fierce demand; virility and vitality and that gloriously sweet promise in her scent, announcing her readiness to receive him. When she peaked, it was maddening. A fever in his blood. Hell, even the scent of her distinctive shampoo, cedarwood and lemongrass, was enough to distract him on the rare occasion he ran across someone else who used it.
"Oh, God."
"It ain't hard to tell 'em apart. Women are sweeter. Lighter. Fresher, like new grass. Musk and salt and sweat and honey."
"And men?" Her face was hot and her blood felt fluttery under her skin. Wild. Powerful. She was embarrassed, but also curious. It was exciting to talk with him like this. Not just like a woman, but speaking openly about topics he rarely discussed.
"Men are different. Scent's more base. Darker. Peaty. Yeast and moss and earth. Sorta salty-electric." Ejaculate had a distinctive scent that sent a very clear message to any creature with feral senses.
"Is—is it always like this?" She shivered, drawing in another delicious lungful of air scented with desire and underscored by leather, the lingering trace of tobacco smoke and the faint, woodsy scent of Logan's shaving soap. There was something underneath that, a scent she had no vocabulary to describe. Something that simply registered as male. It was primal and compelling, and reminded her of the day she stood on the beach in Cape Cod and watched a violent winter storm roll in. Salt and rain and power. She felt that same energy from Logan now. Another shudder went through her and she felt her nipples draw up, hard and aching.
"Nah. It's slightly different on everyone. Different but still, ya know, good. Some more'n others." Fuck not letting her know how he felt about that smell on her.
He inhaled deeply, wanting more of her distinctive scent. The base notes were familiar, musk and honey. But to him she also smelled like fresh snow and sunshine and the toffee-vanilla finish of good brandy. Smoky-sweet with a fiery kick that followed. Marie was cautious, but the Rogue took no prisoners. It was a one-two punch that did it for him every time.
The unspoken implication was there; that he knew what she smelled like aroused… and now they were both aware she knew that scent on him, too. He could see that knowledge burning brightly in her eyes.
"I like it," she offered quietly.
Satisfaction pooled hot and low in his belly.
"Which part?" Fuck every line they'd ever drawn in the sand.
"All of it." It wasn't just the scent. She could feel the sounds against her skin. Her eyes saw more, even in the low light. With her senses so heightened, she couldn't imagine what an actual physical touch would be like right now, let alone an openly sexual touch. She was already quivering in her skin.
"Good." He barely suppressed a shudder. That approval always got to him.
"I forget that it's like this for you all the time," she added softly into the charged silence.
"It ain't."
"I don't understand."
"Kid, you only gotta little taste of somethin' a hell of a lot bigger than five-Mississippi."
He could tell he'd shocked her again.
Good.
He smiled into the darkness in anticipation, tasting her excitement on the air and eager for what was coming.
Up next: I Want It All. Now that Marie's had a little taste, she wants more...