Author's note: Sorry, y'all. This week kicked my butt. Onward!

The Wolverine and his woman didn't leave the cabin for five days. They hadn't worn clothes for the last two, beyond a creatively positioned scarf and a pair of black motorcycle gloves that still carried her scent.

They were resting in the new chair. She was in his lap. He was still leaking from between her legs.

"Goddamn, baby."

"I can't believe that didn't break the chair."

"Damn sturdy," he agreed with an amused grunt, rubbing a thumb over the edge of the seat where she'd gripped it in those final brutal moments. The scratches she'd left were a nice addition to the distressed leather. His hands left the leather and began to roam her body in a way that suggested he was interested in more than simply recovering from round one. "Wanna go again?"

"Maybe," she panted, still a little breathless. "Depends."

"On?"

He allowed Marie to shove him from the chair to the bearskin rug and chuckled with amusement as she put a foot on his shoulder and pushed him back to kneel before her.

"On if you can make me come this way first before I pass out." She was sleepy, but still in the mood for sex, provided he did all the work.

He nipped at her arch and she squeaked, jerking her foot out of reach of his sharp teeth. "Heh. I dunno. Way I heard it, you don't like this none. Too tickly, was it?"

"Dammit, sugar." She poked him in the chest with her toe, pinching at his chest hair and he grabbed her ankle in a flash, imprisoning her in his unbreakable grip. He let her feel his strength for a moment and then turned her loose.

"Knees over the arms of the chair. Now," he prompted when she didn't move fast enough.

"God!" Her whole body shivered when his voice dropped like that; sex and whiskey and smoke and the promise of everything good that they'd been denied for so long. She obeyed, spreading her legs for him.

"Good girl." He petted her softly, aware the touch was much too light. He enjoyed teasing her. "Mouth or hands?" Her hips were already trying to chase his fingers.

"Both," she pouted.

"What's in it for me?" He bit her thigh, licking at her with his tongue but deliberately avoiding putting his mouth on any of the places he knew made her wild. Logan was curious what she'd offer up. She was generally up for anything, he wanted to do, but was still a little shy about making suggestions of her own.

"Anything you want."

He let her give the easy answer, this time. They'd just had a conversation about sex that included the word 'anything'. Damn good, in his book, even if she was still hesitant about letting him know what she wanted.

"Anythin'?" He was still teasing her. Little nips and licks. The warmth of his breath.

She caught her full bottom lip in her teeth and nodded, eyes dark with pleasure.

"My turn in the chair after. Wantcha to ride me. Hard." Her breath caught.

"Mmm... I might need a little Mississippi in me for that, cowboy." She didn't have his stamina.

His teeth flashed at her. "Got all the Mississippi you need right here, little girl."

~ooOoo~

"I'm surprised this worked." They were soaking together in the tub, her back to his front as they shared a beer back and forth. "I didn't think the water would be viscous enough." It wasn't one hundred percent effective, but it was close.

As much as they had both hoped her skin would short out or that all the prolonged skin to skin contact would widen the interval of her control by leaps and bounds, there were no magic fixes to be had. Her skin still pulled him in if he held on too long.

To be honest, Logan was kind of glad about that. That year the Cure had silenced her skin had been one of the most painful chapters in their rocky history. If she couldn't embrace herself, how could she ever accept the darkest parts of him?

But for as much as he loved her skin mutation and all, Logan also enjoyed the ability to touch her freely. Sometimes he just wanted to feel her close and not have to worry about how much of him she might pull inside her head in an unguarded moment. Sometimes it was about just wanting to have sex where they didn't have to be so careful in the moments close to orgasm. More often they simply wound up in the tub, soaking and talking or laying together in silence.

Marie still had more words in her overall, and now that he could use touch to show her how he felt, he found himself communicating a lot that way instead. It was more comfortable. He'd never been a man of many words, though she seemed to pull more out of him than most people. Right from the beginning. A direct line to his heart, she liked to say.

It was a direct line to something, though Logan wasn't too sure it was his heart. Or even his cock. She seemed to see into him, right into that wild place, and to like what she found there staring out at her.

"Bathroom looks good," he finally offered, not in the mood for a deep conversation.

They'd taken a break from christening every available surface in the house to paint the small bathroom a deep, smoky teal. He'd wound up wearing quite a bit of it when she came after him with the brush for pinching her butt while she was perched precariously on the counter painting above the light fixture. But he was stronger and faster and in the end, they'd wound up in the shower covered in paint. Her breasts were blue and so were his hands and it had taken quite a bit of scrubbing to make themselves presentable.

They'd found smudges of teal paint for two days afterwards.

She'd smiled every time.

~ooOoo~

It was the boots Logan noticed first. Her favorite. Brown Frye harness boots that had seen dirt roads and back roads, fight bars and bar crawls, and more skirmishes with the Brotherhood than either of them wanted to count. A time or two she'd even worn them to bed just for the hell of it.

Nothing else. Just the boots.

The worn, scuffed toe was currently tapping on the garage floor next to his head. Girl was a born hellraiser. Looking up from where he was working on his bike, he couldn't help but appreciate the view it afforded him. He'd always liked that wrap dress. And the fact that the Rogue preferred to go commando every chance she got. Logan had long held that naked was a hell of a lot sexier than the skimpiest barely-there panties. He wasn't much for patience. Never had been. He tended to jump in with both feet and get life — and everything else — all over him.

"Darlin'," he greeted with a husky rumble, watching her drag a finger over the glossy tank provocatively. Oh yeah. That definitely had his attention.

"Sugar."

God, that drawl had always done it for him.

He rolled to his feet, crowding her against the bike's heavy frame with his own.

"Ya know, you don't touch a man's bike like that unless you're prepared for him to touch ya back, baby."

"Oh? Is that the rule?" she teased, blinking up at him — her face the picture of playful girlish innocence before it slipped into something else; something wilder that made his eyes flash gold. Her eyes devoured him, from the grease on his hands to the sweat on his skin to the tight white tank and worn jeans. She licked her lips and purred at him. "I thought the rule was don't touch a man's bike like that unless you're prepared to touch him the same way…" She stroked the bike again for good measure.

He didn't think it was to drive her point home so much as to drive him a little crazy. It worked. Everything about her said she wanted it. Right here. Right now.

"Hot." He hauled her to him by the hips.

"No. Cold."

"Huh?"

She laughed. "Cold." Marie raised her hand and a small flurry of ice crystals stung against his sweaty skin before they melted, trickling down his neck and chest. "Impromptu trainin' session in the Danger Room just now, sugar." Well, that explained the peppery scent of ozone and the wild in her smile. She liked kicking ass. "I borrowed a bit of Bobby's powers," she explained, answering his unspoken question.

Logan turned her in his arms and bent her over the bike as he stepped up behind her and ran a large hand over the curve of her hips with frank appreciation. "I don't wanna talk about the little ice prick." He nudged her feet wider with his heavy boot.

"Me either. That's not the kinda prick on my mind right now, cowboy."

"Heh."

"I just thought I'd let you know that I had enough juice left to ice the lock on the door and frost the windows s'all."

Logan was amused. His lover was mostly the Rogue today with just a hint of Marie to soften some of the harsher edges. The Rogue wouldn't give a good goddamn if anyone saw them. In fact, she might even like it.

"That right?"

"Yep."

"S'hundred fuckin' degrees outside."

Marie arched her back and met his eyes over her shoulder, fingers sliding over the swell of the tank. "Better hurry, then."

~ooOoo~

"This one, baby?"

"Ugh. No. Too hard."

"Ain't whatcha said earlier in the truck. In fact, I think what I heard was, Harder. OhfuckyesHARDER!" Logan murmured the words into her ear as he pulled her up from the bed in the middle of the showroom floor. The little sleeping pallet hadn't met their needs for long.

"Oh my God. You're beyond help."

"Yeah. But you like hearin' me talk dirty. Gets you goin' real good."

"So does kicking your ass."

"Open invitation, any time." She giggled. He threw himself back on another bed, frowning as he sank in deeply. It was like being eaten alive.

She flopped down next to him. "Mmm…" The overstuffed pillowtop enveloped her small form, distracted her from giving him the sharper side of her tongue in the sassy way he enjoyed.

"No way."

They made their way around the floor, trying various mattresses at Marie's insistence. Logan was less than enthusiastic.

The same irritating, fussy little man who'd sold them the chair was shadowing them as they shopped. Logan couldn't decide if it was because he was interested in trying to overhear a bit of juicy conversation or in the commission he'd make once they finally decided which mattress they wanted.

"Come on. Try this one, sugar. Memory foam. What do you think?" She was wiggling from her side to her back as she scooched over to make room. He lay back, unconvinced something comprised of foam would be able to support his metal skeleton, and found himself pleasantly surprised.

"Ain't bad."

High praise from the Wolverine and she knew it.

"I dunno, sugar. I hear they're amazing for sleeping and crappy for sex."

"That right?"

She heaved experimentally next to him. He raised an eyebrow. "No bounce."

"No noise, either." He rubbed his knuckles absently. "No springs to cut."

He was hard on furniture, beds in particular.

"Hmm…"

He sat up and shifted to brace himself with one hand as he leaned over her and jostled them both. The bed absorbed the movement. Whoever had told her this bed sucked for sex, clearly hadn't been someone with a metallically reinforced skeleton.

"You're right, baby. No bounce. Just... traction." The tone of his voice was positively filthy. Her body would take the full force of every thrust. She wouldn't be bounced all over the bed as the momentum of his adamantium-laced thrusts shunted her into the headboard.

Her eyes burned hotly as she worked out just what that would mean. How easy it would be for him to keep her pinned under him, immobile. How when she was on top, her knees would sink in, allowing them to be even closer as she ground down on him. Her pupils blew wide and he shuddered lightly as her scent bloomed from ginger and lemongrass to pure sex.

Logan very nearly bit her.

The fussy little man was torn between telling them off for the obscene conversation they were having with their eyes and biting his tongue to close the deal. Just watching them look at each other made him sweat. He could not for the life of him understand what a man that like was doing with a girl who looked barely legal, but then, he'd never really seen the allure of women, anyway.

In the end, he chose the money.

Cash, laid down in a thick stack of bills. Some of them still smeared with blood from the fights.

The small man all but clutched his pearls and managed to squeak out an, "And what do you do for a living?" while he counted the stack of money with shaking hands.

Logan grunted dismissively. "I fight."

"In the ring?"

Logan's lip curled, showing a little teeth that was not at all meant to be a smile. "In the cage." His tone carried an implicit invitation.

"Sugar," Marie chided.

The man looked her over. "He that brutal outside of the cage, too, sweetie?"

The Rogue stared back at him, a dirty smile playing on her sultry lips.

"Yes."

All of them shivered for different reasons.

Up next: Paradise City. Take me down to the paradise city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty… Take. Me. Home.

There's still a lot of home left to christen...

Any guesses? ;)