Marie was laying on her back in the middle of the newly-laid cork floor, staring at the orange accent wall she'd recently painted. Bourbon Bottle, Logan remembered, thinking of the day they had chosen the color together. He looked at her with a critical eye, noticing that she'd showered too. Her hair was slightly damp and the stench of death and blood was gone, replaced by hints of ginger and lemongrass. The salty tang of tears was somewhere in the mix too, but her face was fresh and her eyes clear and bright. She smiled at him, raising a hand in invitation as she greeted him softly.

"Hey, sugar."

Logan lay down next to her on the floor in the empty space, wondering idly if she'd watched him dress just now. He wasn't upset, just curious. His money was on yes. Marie was impulsive and inquisitive. The shoji screens he'd hung were open and all she'd have had to do was turn her head to have seen him below. From this vantage point, he could see almost the entire downstairs. More than a year of work at a glance, and she'd been there at his side every step of the way. Another realization that sent his thoughts spinning.

"Hey, kid," he returned, blowing out a deep breath that smelled strongly of her and faintly of paint and cork. "Feelin' better?"

"Good as new. You?"

He merely grunted in reply.

"Floor looks good." She tried again.

"Yeah."

"Feels good, too."

"Yep. Good call." Were they really going to make small talk about the house? Now?

"I like the orange. It makes it feel warm and cozy up here."

He guessed they were.

"Mmph."

"It's almost the same color as your new chair."

Hmm. Then again, maybe not.

They both turned to look down at it. He'd set it by the fireplace, close enough to put the bearskin rug underfoot. Or under her knees if she were kneeling in front of him while he sat in it. He wished they were there now. Slow and easy. Dirty and rough. Teeth and lips and tongues. Fuckin' anything but this intimately platonic hell.

She saw the flash of gold in his eyes. He didn't bother trying to hide it. He didn't have the energy or desire to curb a damn thing. Not anymore. He was at his limit. They'd found the Rogue's limit that night at The Red Door when she'd watched the feral man come. Today he'd reached his, and he wasn't sure she was up for being the safe harbor he needed, at least not the way he'd been for her that night. She was still running scared. If he leaned on her now, she'd break.

"You thinking about it too?"

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" He wasn't really paying attention, wrapped up as he was in his own thoughts.

"Sex."

His head swung around and he blinked at her slowly, half wondering if he was hallucinating this whole thing. "Huh?"

"Sex, sugar." She was blushing a little, but her voice was steady and even. "You were thinking about us having sex, right?"

His expression said that was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever heard and his jaw clenched at her teasing — because they'd both done fuck-all but think about sex for months now — but it somehow managed to hit just the right note and leveled him out a little. It was direct, but it wasn't too serious or too overtly sexual.

He knew it for what it was, a tentative overture that was the opening bars of a much needed discussion about sex without the pressure of an actual attempt at seduction on either of their parts.

"Nah," he shot back, just to make her laugh.

She rolled her eyes and shifted to lay perpendicular to him, resting her head on his taut belly with a sigh. Logan was struck anew by how comfortable she was with him now. How easily she touched him and accepted his touch, and how right it felt to slip his fingers into her silky hair. They'd come such a long way.

And had so much further to go.

That she was finally ready for this conversation boded well for the future, although a very real part of him wondered if it was too little too late. Part of him was thinking about rolling her under him and feeling her knees come up to welcome him deep. The other part was making a mental list of items for the saddlebags of his bike. He couldn't exist in this limbo any longer. She needed to choose for them. Open the last door between them or walk away from it all together and give him some room to breathe again.

"I don't mean it that way. Geez."

Now that caught his interest. "Yeah?"

"I mean the mechanics." She was nervous. Fidgety. Worrying something between her gloved fingers, but he couldn't really see what it was, and honestly didn't much care.

"I thought your mama had that talk with you when you were eleven, baby. You really need me to tell you how it works?"

"You know what I mean." She swatted his thigh. It was the wrong tack to take. She thought he'd chuckle. He didn't. He bristled instead.

"Hell, darlin'. We watched a man fuck his lover together, and laid in that bed downstairs and talked about the physical limits of our bodies and how many times we could make them come. I've read your stories and you've read mine, and you came against me three times that night on the bike." Her eyes were wide but he charged on, unable to stop now that the dam had broken. "Not that long ago, you laid in my arms on the deck and came so hard the panties you pushed into my hand after were fuckin' soaked…. and now you want to talk motherfuckin' mechanics?"

Marie was taken aback by the heat in his words. He wasn't holding back a damn thing now. Her face flamed at their history laid out so brutally, without a care for either of their tender feelings.

"Well hell, sugar. Tell me what you really think, huh?"

"I can't play this game with you anymore," he said tiredly. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn't roll away though, or even stop rubbing her hair between his fingers. It was a significant detail, but neither of them noticed.

"Who's playing now? You're the one who's refused to talk to me about sex."

"What the hell? We talk about sex all the fuckin' time."

"We don't talk about us having sex."

"And just why do you think that is, huh?"

"Because you think if you don't that I will."

His eyes narrowed. That wasn't the reason at all. Or at least not the entire reason. "Worked, didn't it?" He knew he was being shitty. There was a little truth to what she was saying. But that wasn't all of it.

"So you tell me then, cowboy. I'm all ears."

She turned over to look at him, scooting down to pillow her cheek on his thigh. His eyes were hooded and dark and that muscle was jumping in his jaw.

"Cause I'm fuckin' tired of you hidin' behind the little girl act every time you get spooked. You ain't a kid. Haven't been one for years. But you still trot out the pigtails and cry into my shirt and sit on my lap and we both pretend all of that doesn't make hard as hell. So yeah, I'm fuckin' over it."

For a moment he thought she might cry, but they'd needed to clear the air like this for so long. It was painfully overdue. Her eyes narrowed at him instead.

"You done, sunshine?"

"Probably not."

They both smiled a little at that.

"Good. 'Cause I'm not either. And for what it's worth, I'm over it too. I don't want to be that little girl on your lap anymore. I want to be the big girl on your lap with that hard cock of yours so deep inside me that I'll never get you out again."

His mouth hung open a little at her candor. That was all the Rogue, right there. All up in his face like he'd been in hers a minute ago. Giving it just as good as she got it.

"Jesus." That had blown his hair back.

"I didn't mean man/woman mechanics, you stubborn jackass. I meant you and me mechanics."

His blank look said he wasn't following. "What?"

"Hello? Naked deadly skin?"

Logan was shocked. He thought the wait was about her being afraid of embracing the Rogue and possibly her concern over joining her life to his… when she'd actually been worried about hurting him? Typical Marie. Who else would worry about hurting the unkillable man? It touched him and at the same time, the futility of needlessly twisting herself — and him — into knots over it made his temper flare.

"That's what you wanna talk about?"

His indulgent tone pissed her off.

"Right. Because whyever would I wanna discuss the details of my lover staying conscious while we—"

"If you say 'fuck' I'm gonna put you over my knee and paddle that sweet ass until it's cherry red," he growled, disturbed by the spike in her scent and the accompanying shiver at his warning. That threat had certainly fallen on deaf ears. She was adventurous, but Christ. Walk before you run, at least.

"So you're not going to fuck me?"

Damn her if she didn't sound disappointed by that.

"Dunno how I'll be with ya. Or if." She still hadn't made up her mind. "You talked a pretty big game that night at The Red Door, but I'm still waitin' for the follow-through."

"Maybe I just want to work a few details out first."

"Like?"

"Like how we make love without me killing you."

He realized in that moment that she was completely serious. That this wasn't some game to wind him up, or to coyly tease him from the safety of a persona she knew he wouldn't touch. It instantly blunted his intense frustration. He'd honestly had no idea it was such a huge deal for her. Clearly she wasn't as comfortable with him as he'd first thought. Or maybe it was that their easy physical intimacy didn't immediately translate into sexual intimacy for her.

"Sorry," he said, meaning it, and wondering where to go from here.

"For what?"

"For not realisin' that the skin thing's still a big deal for you."

"It's not for you?"

"Truth?"

She nodded, too shocked for words.

"Nah. It's never been that big of deal for me."

Marie sat up, wide-eyed and thunderstruck.

"What?"

"It don't bother me none. Sure, I thought about it. Mostly about how that buzz kickin' in gets me fuckin' hot. And how I don't wanna give ya more'n you can handle of me up here." He tapped his temple and gave her a pointed look. "But after what happened at the sex club, even that don't really worry me none now."

Marie was still just sort of sputtering.

"I think maybe you feel like you gotta have it all planned out and special equipment to hand or that you gotta be covered from neck to toes or somethin'. You've built up your mutation in your head to be this real scary thing that you gotta be hypervigilant of every minute of the day, and that just ain't the truth, darlin'. Least not with me."

"I— I…." She still couldn't get it together.

It didn't seem to bother Logan.

"Hell, even Chuck thought it was about that. 'Bout you bein' worried you'd hurt someone. But it wasn't really that at all, was it? After bein' on the road, it was you bein' worried that if someone could touch ya, really touch ya, you'd be vulnerable, and it'd be you who got hurt in the end."

That touched a nerve and she suddenly found her voice. "That's pretty rich coming from you. How often have you let yourself be vulnerable in the last twenty years?"

He knew her well enough to understand she was on the offensive now because she was unsure and frightened by the truth, not because she was actually angry with him.

"I'm here now." That simple, quiet truth seemed to take all the wind from her sails.

"Sugar—"

"Look. I get it, all right? You need that wall to feel safe from the world. But you don't need it with me, baby. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

For a long moment, he thought she might up and run. She had that look on her, flighty and a little wild around the edges. She searched his eyes for a long moment, but seemed to find what she needed there. With a sigh, she laid her head back down on his thigh.

"I hope you're right."

"I am."

"And the sex?"

"I expect we'll do it just like everyone else. Just a man and a woman layin' down together, darlin'."

"My skin…"

"S'fuckin' sexy and I wanna see and touch and taste as much of it as I can."

"Logan."

"What? You got nearly a minute these days before I even feel the buzz. So I gotta pull offa you or pull clear now and then?" Marie was slightly taken aback by his candor. The Wolverine didn't sugarcoat it for anyone, not even her. "Sounds kinda fun. All that stoppin' and startin'? You'll like it. Doin' it like that'll make you want it, bad. Makes everythin' more intense if you gotta wait for it a little."

She shivered at that.

"You sound pretty sure."

"No reason not to be."

"I don't know—"

"Look, if we hafta stop and put on some clothes then we'll do that if we need to. But maybe you should stop borrowin' trouble, baby. Just roll with it and let it happen insteada gettin' all wound up about it."

She thought that over.

"I'm scared."

"I know." He looked at her face, so earnest and desperate to believe what he was saying. She was scared, he knew, but he also knew this first time would set the tone for what came after. It might make her more comfortably initially if they both covered up, but Logan felt strongly that placing those kind of limits without knowing if they needed them was the wrong precedent to set.

"I don't want to hurt you."

She was still worrying something in her fingers. It was beginning to distract him.

"You won't. That buzz gives us plenty of warnin'. Feels damn good, too. We've both gotten real good about knowin' just how long we got before you start takin' me in."

Marie found his eyes again. "You know, I think that's pretty easy for us to say now when we're not in the moment. But I almost took too much that night at The Red Door… and that was just—" she hesitated.

"Say it." He needed her to own that.

"Sugar, that was just my mouth on your neck. How's it gonna be when it's a helluva lot more intimate than that?" She had a point. He nodded, but she still felt the need to drive it home. "Is it still gonna be so fun when you're close? You gonna wanna pull clear then? When you're so close to coming you can't even think? When the Wolverine is all riled up and wild as hell?"

"Mmph."

Her eyes were fiercely triumphant. "Because, cowboy, when I'm ready, I'm gonna burn your world down. Make you come so hard and long and loud that there's no goddamn way you'll ever doubt my follow-through again. Not with your come and sweat on me and in me, marking me. Making me feel like yours."

A feral growl snarled in his chest and he sat up in one fluid, predatory motion and wrapped his big hand around her throat. Possession, pure and simple. The Wolverine stared at her across the distance of his outstretched arm.

The Rogue stared back, not cowed. Not submissive, but every bit and wild as fierce as he was, and just as close to the edge. Strong fingers in delicate black satin wrapped around his throat in answer. His pulse beat a wild tattoo against her palm. Dust motes glittered in the late afternoon sun as they sat locked together for long minutes, with wide eyes and pounding hearts.

Yep. I totally did stop it there. heh. Feel free to tell me how ya feel about that. ((grin)). All that does is rile my WolverineMuse up more…. (and when he's all lit up, he generally only wants one thing...) ;)

Up next: The Final Countdown.

We're leaving together,
But still it's farewell
And maybe we'll come back,
To earth, who can tell?
I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving ground
Will things ever be the same again?

It's the final countdown...