Marie was watching him across the room, drink in the air as her hips swung to the driving beat. Logan could tell he'd surprised her. The Wolverine didn't do holidays. She knew better than to even ask.

When she'd said she was going to the school's Halloween party as a World War II nurse, he'd just shrugged it off and voiced his appreciation for a naughty nurse costume. She'd shut that down firmly.

"It's a school party, sugar. I teach here now! Since when did Halloween become synonymous with Slutoween, anyway? Geez. My costume is gonna be authentic. A nod to my gran who served. I can't help but wonder what you must have looked like in uniform, though."

"Which one?" he'd grunted under his breath. From Union blue to futuristic black. He'd run the full gamut between, and then some.

"All of 'em, cowboy. I like a man in uniform." Her eyes had flashed hotly. He'd known she had thing for the black uniform, but he'd thought it was the leather and not the uniform itself. Interesting.

Logan's eyes had slid over to the discarded heap of black leather on the floor by their bed. "Or outta uniform."

She hadn't even blushed. Just thrown back her head and laughed. "Back atcha." Her uniform had been on the floor next to his.

Fair enough.

Logan hadn't been able to get the look in her eye out of his head since that night. He'd thought about wearing the Union blue just to rile her up, but she'd lost family in that war and the wool fucking itched. It was the basic olive fatigues and combat boots that felt right when he'd swung by the military surplus anyway. He'd been wearing one uniform or another for two centuries. He wondered what that meant. There was a part of him that missed the familiar weight of his old tags. That was disturbing, too.

The look in her eyes was worth every bit of the unsettling internal dialogue. She knew. There'd been a flash of softness and clarity first, a moment of understanding and gratitude before the lust shifted her warm brown eyes to a smoky ebony.

She was gonna burn him alive, he could tell.

She took her time. Let him watch her dance for a while. Slinging her hair under the jaunty nurse's cap. Shaking the ass he loved so much in that crisp white uniform. Stockings with a seam up the back. She looked tough and strong and resourceful and he found that a thousand times more exciting than the cheap, revealing costumes around him.

Logan was a man who had a deep and abiding appreciation for slutty, but sexy was something else entirely. And if he knew his girl — and he did — he'd bet good money that whatever she was wearing under that uniform would bring a grown man to his knees.

The Rogue would be pleased to know she'd made him sweat. He knew damn well who was eyefucking him from across the room. It was somehow both subtle and obscene at the same time. The costume might have been a homage to Marie's gran, but the wicked promise in her eyes was the Rogue's pure Southern fire.

He thought she'd tease. Give him some impertinent line about dishonorable discharges or foxholes. He was completely unprepared for the Rogue's full frontal assault. When she was done playing with him, she stalked over, one hip at a time, and stood on her toes as she pulled his ear to those full red lips, full of sin and expectation. She spoke only three words.

"I. Need. It."

And fuck her if she didn't smirk at him when he jerked slightly. It was only the smallest of movements, but it might as well have been a full body shudder and she knew it.

Goddamn, he was gonna enjoy this. She sure as hell would too. He wasn't an officer or a gentleman. Hell, he was barely a man at all, and the 'game on' expression in her eyes said she was looking forward to whatever he served up.

Logan put his beer down and walked out, knowing she'd follow. And that his high-handedness would rile her up a little. He enjoyed adding fuel to the fire because she always burned so sweet.

He headed for the small staff bathroom in the east wing. "You not gonna take me home, soldier?" she purred, loitering at the fork in the hallway that led to her old room with Jubilee. She hadn't actually moved out, but she rarely slept there these days.

"Nope."

It wasn't the first time she'd expressed an interest in going a few rounds with him there, but he wasn't in the mood to rewrite history with a playful romp in her old little bed. Her sultry teasing had roused a darker hunger in him and the fire in her eyes dared him to follow through.

Marie should know better. Or perhaps she did and the Rogue wanted what was coming. That was far more likely. She was testing him more and more every day. Wanting more of everything he'd held back for so long.

He stopped, staring at her for a charged moment before wrapping a big hand around her slender throat and drawing her close. The tender brush of his thumb over her lips was gentle, but she could feel the leashed strength in the fingers on her neck as he leaned in and nipped her sharply before putting his mouth to her ear.

"Your room don't have what I want."

Against his palm he could feel her swallow.

"And that would be…?"

"A mirror big enough for you to see everythin' I'm gonna do to you."

To you. Not with you. It was a deliberate word choice that telegraphed the direction of his thoughts as clearly as the commanding hand wrapped around her throat. He had a naturally dominant personality, but he generally didn't make a show of dominating her pointedly during sex unless the Wolverine was in charge.

She whimpered softly, her need evident in her sultry scent and her body language. He smirked. That was enough to light a fire under the Rogue, who very much enjoyed that aspect of his personality. He might be the one in charge, but her expression said he wasn't going to stay there without her challenging him every step of the way. It was a game suited to both their volatile natures.

He didn't say another word until they were in the small bathroom with the heavy oak door locked at his back. She was wild in her need, rubbing herself against him sensuously as she wound her arms around his neck and pushed her fingers into his hair. Her kiss was urgent and vital and he enjoyed the hell out of it, but this was his show and he waited until she realized he wasn't allowing her to lead the hungry, reckless charge. She shuddered when she did, breaking the kiss to peer up at him breathlessly.

That's what he'd been waiting for. That moment she realized what she really wanted was for him to tell her what to do and to trust that he knew how to give her what they both needed. It was a fine line to walk, even with his decades of experience. The Rogue was desperate for all that he could show her while at the same time, chafing a little under his direction. She was a vibrant, turbulent lover. Exciting and provocative in turns, but with an underlying tenderness that gave even their basest encounters depth and meaning beyond what they did with their bodies.

Catching her eye, he peeled off her gloves and carelessly dropped them at his feet. Being around the others without them still made her nervous but she didn't need them with him. They'd developed their own shorthand. A language of touch. Seeing the gloves come off never failed to make him hard because he knew she'd be touching him soon after.

"On your knees."

He didn't direct her or push her down, or even raise his voice. He didn't have to. He didn't make her do anything. He made her want to do it which was a thousand times more compelling for them both.

"Mmm…" She sank to her knees, dragging her hands down his body as she went.

They both felt the power shift. He had what she wanted. It throbbed between his legs and roared between his ears. Being wanted by such a fierce creature made his blood sing, hot and sharp under his skin. Their joining had unleashed a wildness in her that was growing by leaps and bounds, an elemental force that was terrifyingly beautiful. Seductive. Consuming. Dangerous. He couldn't get enough.

"Take my cock out." Low and rough. His sex voice.

She bit her lip, partly in concentration as she worked the unfamiliar buttons on the fly of his vintage fatigue pants, and partly because his low, husky words were making her dizzy with lust. There was something about seeing him exposed in an open pair of pants that really raised the tempo. The contrast between the tactile sensations of smooth hot skin, crisp wiry hair and worn olive fabric was a treat for a hedonist like Marie, who was still easily overwhelmed by the marvel of touch.

He slid between her fingers as she tested the weight and heft of him in her palm.

"That what you needed, baby?"

"Yes," she breathed, reverently. Wantonly.

"Show me."

She did. With her hands. With her mouth. With the sway of her body and the soft sounds she made as she kissed and sucked. He pushed his hands into her hair, roughly guiding her mouth where he wanted it. She'd be annoyed later when she realized he'd knocked her cap to the floor and ruined her artfully shaped finger waves, but right now she was so deeply submerged in her own desire that she didn't even notice. All she wanted was more of him. More of that beautiful primal darkness that he was only now beginning to let her see.

"Mmmm…." she moaned around him and he couldn't help thrusting into her throat with a grunt of his own before he pulled her mouth off of him.

"Stop."

There was a wicked light in her eyes. Wicked.

"Too close to the edge, sugar?" She wasn't at all cowed by his less than gentle treatment. In fact, her tone was clearly urging him on for more of the same. She was lit up like a pinball machine and the rich earthy scent of her desire was making his mouth water.

He didn't bother to answer her. He just stared down at her red, swollen lips and wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger, rubbing it softly between his fingers. "Open your dress. Take your tits out. I wanna see 'em."

She shivered at his crude words but felt a new rush of dampness trickle between her legs. He knew it, too. Her fingers undid the prim placket of the dress slowly enough that she knew she was in danger of having it sliced from her. She liked to push his buttons, too.

When the dress was open to the waist, she ran a hand over her breasts, glorying in the small catch in his breath as they came into view. She'd chosen a vintage inspired satin corset in virginal white. It seemed the antithesis of this raw moment, and also somehow beautifully right. It was a first time, of sorts. Just not the one typically defined by white lingerie.

In the back of her mind, some unfettered part of her wondered if he'd make her bleed tonight. The idea frightened her as much as it turned her on.

His eyes deepened to a smoky gold as she slid a hand up her ribcage and cupped a breast, lingering over the swell of her nipple before dipping her fingers inside the corset's lacy top. "You like that, cowboy?"

He ignored that question too, staring down at her like the Big Bad Wolf and the look on his face said he wanted to devour her in one big bite.

"Pull the cups down. Show 'em off." He wanted her breasts on display like an offering. He wet his lips as she ripped the cups down and rubbed her hard nipples back and forth with her thumbs. "Pinch 'em hard, like I would."

His cock twitched between them as he watched her stroke and tease.

"Stand up." His voice was more growl than words.

She stood, obedient but hardly submissive. The sparkle in her eye challenged him even now and she didn't once look away from his intense gaze.

He bent her over the counter and flipped her skirt up over her hips, biting back a curse. No panties. Just a garter belt and stockings with that fucking seam up the back that rang his bell but good. He used more pressure with the hand he had at the small of her back, pinning her where he wanted as he slipped his other hand between her legs.

"Fuck. Look at that…"

She was dripping, thighs glazed with lust. There was no denying it. She'd never been this wet. Something about this was doing it for her, too.

"Unnnhhhh….. please!" She was begging for it now, unashamed and as wild for it as he'd ever seen her.

He chuckled darkly, pulling away his hand and stepping back.

"You still think this is about you, baby?"

Geez. Does this one even need a teaser? Okie dokie, then…

Up next: I had another title in mind originally, but upon reflection, Danger Zone seemed more appropriate:

Revvin' up your engine
Listen to her howlin' roar
Metal under tension
Beggin' you to touch and go...

The Wolverine shoves off the deck and into overdrive.

Gold star to anyone who can guess what this one was originally titled. ;)

Feedback is love.