Logan thought the tension would ease when the chair was loaded in the back of his truck, but as the tailgate slammed on it, things only seemed to spiral tighter. The chair had been bought with a specific purpose in mind, and taking it back to the house along with the Rogue, who was being suspiciously restrained at the moment, probably wasn't the brightest idea.

"Lunch?" he offered. That was their usual standard operating procedure when he was forced to endure a morning acquiring things for the house. Shopping first and then a lunch that generally included a few beers with a whiskey chaser or two to wash away the taste of that unpleasant task. "Muldoon's?"

"God. How many meat pies can one man eat? Maybe Carl's Perfect Pig? I could go for a Shiner and some ribs. I need something to sink my teeth into, sugar." Marie's eyes sparkled.

"Christ. You always gotta push." Her answer pleased him nonetheless. She only ever ate ribs with him, and even that had taken her a few years. It meant her gloves coming off and watching her lick her fingers between bites. He wasn't sure he had it in him today to watch that. He also knew there was no way in hell he was going to tell her no.

As it turned out, Muldoon's might have been the better choice. The ribs and poke greens were excellent, but there were two wannabe country girls at the next table who were using the earlier episode of Sex and the City as a springboard to discuss their own, frighteningly comprehensive, experiences with oral sex. By the time their food came, Marie felt like she knew more about their sexual history than their OBGYNs ever would.

"Mmph." Logan was clearly reaching his saturation point as well.

"I hear that, sugar."

"There's a damn big difference between a bein' a country girl and bein' a whore in boots," he muttered under his breath, sucking at a rib bone in a way that made her both jealous and melty.

She saluted him with her glass. "I guess you'd know, cowboy."

He did. His proclivity for wild women with a taste for indulging in raunchy casual sex with rough men was well known, but he didn't care for the critical frisson of disapproval in her tone. He understood why it was there, but she didn't own him and he wasn't about to let her judge him for choices he'd made before she was willing to step up to the plate and take a swing or two herself.

Hell, he was still waiting. She'd made a very public claim on him at The Red Door, but hadn't yet followed through. Logan wondered exactly what she was waiting for, and simply shrugged in reply. He wasn't about to defend his actions. He made no excuses for his temperament.

The women were only a means to an end. There to sate a physical need, like food or sleep. They didn't engage his heart or mind. It was a strange place to draw a line, to share his body but nothing else, but it was the best he could do to balance the two warring sides of his nature.

The voices from the next booth rose again and both Logan and Marie were treated to an enthusiastically graphic recounting of the time the blonde's lover made her come so many times with his mouth that she passed out.

Marie snorted in disbelief. Logan just shook his head. He'd experienced that phenomenon a time or two from the male perspective, but he wisely kept that information to himself. The Rogue was unstable enough these days without pouring gasoline on that particular fire.

For Marie, the crass description brought to mind the images from that night at The Red Door. The woman had been bound on her back, her legs spread and secured by the beautifully knotted ropes so she was unable to close her thighs against the onslaught of her lover's mouth. Her husky cries had made it apparent that she had no desire to deny him regardless of her position.

Marie had found it easier to watch the couple on the stage than Logan's face. That was one intimacy too far with a man not yet her lover. She felt the same sense of awkwardness now, listening to the girls at the next table talk so graphically about that particular sex act.

She rolled her eyes.

More attuned to Marie than the conversation flowing around them, Logan noticed her silent commentary.

"Too much?"

Marie shook her head. "It's not really that." She felt a little detached, distanced from the conversation for more than the obvious reasons.

"Don't like it?"

She understood he was asking about the act itself, rather than their commentary on the act.

He saw her shrug lightly. "I can't say from personal experience, but I don't suppose I've really given it all that much thought, to be honest."

What? In his experience, most women preferred that kind of sex to pretty much everything else. "Why not?"

"Uh, isn't it kinda obvious?" The alcohol she'd just consumed had made her bold, and more than a little drunk.

"No. Enlighten me." He tried to think back to the erotic stories she'd shared with him. Oral sex had featured prominently, but it had typically been the woman putting her mouth on the man, not the other way around. At the time he'd chalked that up to her curiosity about an unfamiliar body and perhaps an exploration of the power she might find in such an act, rather than a personal preference, but now he wasn't so sure.

"I don't really think about it all that much. Even if my lover was willing to brave the whole deadly skin thing…" He grunted in displeasure at that. She ignored him. "It just doesn't seem that practical. Other things, yeah. Regular sex, for sure. Tights for me and a condom would probably work. But not…. that."

"Why not?"

"It's totally impractical, for one. And how sexy does a dental dam sound?" She made a face. "Nobody uses those in the real world."

"How do you know?" It's not like she had a lot of experience to draw from.

"Have you?" Used one? He shook his head. There was no reason for him to and they both knew it, but he got her point well enough. The triumphant light in her eyes irritated him nonetheless. "See? We all have to accept our limitations, sugar."

Logan was completely floored by her critical, intimate assessment. "Limitations?" he growled, annoyed with her lack of vision more than her naiveté.

"Why spend time dreaming about something I'll never have? For example, you probably don't spend much time dreaming about being captain of the swim team."

That earned her a short, clipped bark of laughter. A soft chuff of derision followed. "Darlin', you're only limited by your imagination."

"And by my lover's ability to stay conscious," she added tartly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he could do a hell of a lot in the fifty or so seconds she had before her skin kicked in now, but he took a drink instead. She was clearly primed for a fight, and even if she wasn't, he wanted to steer clear of anything that gave the impression of an overt come-on. This minefield was dangerous enough already. She was already pushing him and it was a battle of wills he intended to win. He wasn't going to take her. She had to give in. To come to him of her own free will. To choose him and own that choice in a way that left no room for argument. He wanted an equal. Not a child.

"Mmph."

"See? You know I'm right."

That was one challenge too far for a man so close to the edge.

He fingered the scarf at her throat with purpose. "Not everyone thinks inside the box. Or even has a fuckin' box of limitations, kid." He spread the gauzy folds of the scarf open, covering one creamy shoulder, bared by her simple, scoop neck blouse. He ran the tip of one finger over the soft slope pointedly. Twenty seconds. Thirty. A minute ticked by. And then another. There was no need to rush. The soft sheen of gossamer threads protected them both. It could be a fingertip. Or a hand. Or lips. Or a tongue. The moment her eyes widened in awareness, he removed his finger, chuckling darkly. "Don't sell yourself short."

Or him, either. But he hadn't had near enough alcohol to say that aloud.

His brain was clouded with thoughts of exactly how he'd like to use that scarf. Generally when he thought about them having sex, they were both naked. Between his mutation and the time she had before hers kicked in now, Logan was fairly certain they could make sex work without anything between them but a condom, but the scarf still made an appearance from time to time.

His favorite was the one where he reclined naked against the pillows and spread the sheer fabric over his hips as Marie straddled him, rubbing and rocking and grinding while he watched. She'd be bare and flushed and wild as hell with his hands on her breasts and her hair flying all over. He'd easily be able to feel her wetness through the filmy fabric. She'd be able to look down and see him through it, pressed up against his abdomen, dripping for her as she used his body to get off. He imagined the friction of it between them would feel good for them both. Make them both more sensitive for what came after. Fucking good foreplay, in his book.

Marie didn't know what to say. The world had just shifted under her feet again, leaving her off balance and defensive. His smug little smirk rubbed her the wrong way and she lifted her chin defiantly. It was childish to argue, but she needed words to fill the void before she did something very foolish. With him she could take a bit of refuge in 'the girl' just a little longer. He'd understand, even if he didn't like it.

It wasn't exactly an act. It was safe, but the boundaries of that role were much too small now. They chafed in a way they never had before and she knew they had just days left, perhaps hours, before that time was behind them both forever. She just needed a little more time.

"I'm not sure I'm missing all that much anyway." That part was true. That's not what she dreamed about when she lay alone in the dark, thinking about him. It was never his mouth between her legs. It was the weight of his body. A blunt stretch and the feel of teeth on her neck... and his skin, warm under her palms. His scent in her head and his breath, growling and hot against her sweaty skin. It was his body inside hers and his come in her and a fading cry of pleasure ringing in her ears. Salty flesh and a sweet night.

This time, it was Logan's eyes that widened. "Come again?" Sometimes she sounded so goddamn young. And it was wrong, so very wrong, that her innocence lit a fire in him every fucking time. He wanted to show her everything. To initiate her into the world of adult pleasure. To show her what it meant by 'it hurts good'. To teach her that a little pain sometimes made the pleasure sharper. Wilder. To give her sweet and slow and rough and primal and every beautiful, filthy flavor in between.

"I dunno." She was blushing, worrying at her glove folded on the table and refusing to meet his eyes. "Even if it wasn't a moot point, it seems like it would be too… tickly?"

Her obvious inexperience reminded him of the depth and breadth of her innocence. It pulled him back from the edge. They might not be at The Red Door anymore, but she was still trusting him to keep her safe, even from the part of him that wanted to teach her just how good it could be, honor be damned.

He smiled knowingly, as if he was privy to a secret she had yet to discover. His expression held a touch of amused indulgence and it made her want to slap him. So she was a virgin and she'd only ever absorbed men? It wasn't as if she had a frame of reference with which to a make even a credible guess at what receiving such an intimate kiss might be like.

It did look tickly. And squirmy. And in the limited experience she'd had viewing hardcore pornography, the women always seemed to wriggle and thrash, like it wasn't quite enough. It hadn't escaped her attention they always seemed to call out to be fucked afterwards anyway, so why not just skip that step and get to the part that really interested her?

Logan's demeanor wasn't patronizing, but his easy sexuality and the obvious disparity between their levels of experience suddenly pissed her off. Innocence and youth had a power of its own. On top of their earlier shopping trip and the beer and bourbon she'd just put away, it was a volatile mix.

"Maybe a tickle isn't enough for me, cowboy. Maybe I'd rather feel the weight of a man, to feel full and taken and to be fucked like he means it."

Logan wasn't smiling anymore. "Jesus," he muttered. A crack appeared in the glass cradled against his palm. He set it down with the overly precise motion of a man clearly on the edge.

Marie clapped a hand over her mouth, instantly contrite. "Sorry! You know how I get when I've been drinkin'."

"Honest?"

"Shit," she mumbled, draining her glass. The room spun. She really needed to slow down. It wasn't typical for her to drink so much so fast, especially outside of a night on the town, but the subject made her uneasy and the liquid courage helped. She caught the low rumble of amusement deep in his chest.

Marie ordered a water and sipped it slowly as the annoying girls in too tight dresses, and boots that had never seen a dirt road, sashayed out into the sunshine in their Prada sunglasses and WalMart lipgloss.

Her words were hesitant as she watched Logan's beer dangling from his long, thick fingers. She wished she'd been brave enough to have this conversation at the sex club while they watched the leonine man push the woman's legs apart and lower his hairy face between them. She had come with an obscene cry that had rolled over Marie's sensitive skin like a touch, drawing another gush of desire from her untried body.

"Do you like it, sugar?" There were glimmers in her head of his memories that told her he did, but they were hazy and indistinct.

Logan recognized the challenge in her words, despite their soft delivery. He understood she was asking him personally about the act itself, not the conversation they'd overheard or the show they'd seen. "Yes," he said simply. Sex didn't embarrass him.

"Why?"

"Answer ain't pretty."

"I don't care," she said belligerently.

That annoyed him too. She couldn't be tired of him treating her like a little girl and still run to that place and take refuge in it when things got too uncomfortable. He wasn't about to play that game. Be a girl or be a woman. This middle ground shit was bad for them both.

"Look. I don't mean to be an ass, but there's a whole part of it that's pure animal for me. Scent and taste are a big part of that." He saw her pupils blow wide. Shit. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ah, fuck it. "I like givin' pleasure."

"And getting it," she added with a cheeky wink.

He thought she'd be embarrassed, but instead he found himself a little charmed by the random glimpses of the Rogue today; small flashes of the woman she was slowly becoming as she grew more comfortable with that part of herself. While he didn't want to wish away these platonic days with her, he hoped she worked through whatever it was in her head that was holding her back sooner rather than later. They were both coming apart at the seams.

"And takin' it sometimes, too," he added with a dirty grin, quite unable to keep the Wolverine from playing with the Rogue now that she'd joined the party.

He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath as her hand reached up and stroked that spot on her neck where he'd bitten her.

Her other hand reached across the table and found his. When she finally spoke, her drawl was soft in his ears.

"Soon."

Up Next: Need You Tonight. We're at that point where the long slow burn has become a painfully uncomfortable scorch. Things need to change. Logan needs more before the Wolverine takes that choice from them both...