Author's note: Sorry about the delay, y'all. My life is still exploding. The universe clearly did not feel I had enough on my plate and decided that my car needed to break down on the way home from work this week. Boo. On the up side, I ditched all responsibilities and went to a milestone birthday for a good friend tonight. Drinks! Cake! Sat across from a tow truck driver. Karma, hey? Where was he a few days back when I could get nobody to tow my car?! I did ask for his card and his direct number, too— thus insuring my car will never break down again. Heh. And so it goes… Onward! (With a double length chapter to make up for the wait!)
Logan arrived at the house just before dinner to find a box on the porch with his name on it and a note taped to the top. Fuck proper etiquette. He ripped open the box first and read the note after, still clutching the Nerf gun in his hand with an amused grin.
Marie's loopy scrawl read: Sugar, I'm hiding inside with a weapon of my own. First one to make a headshot gets to make all the rules until dawn. Game. On.
She was better than he thought she'd be, but in the end, he lost on purpose because the curiosity was killing him.
As it turned out, the Rogue was far more imaginative — and a helluva lot dirtier — than he'd previously given her credit for. There wasn't a thing tame about her. And lucky for her, there wasn't a damn thing tame about him, either.
The sun rose on a pair of sleeping lovers. Her skin still carried the marks from the silken cord he'd used to bind her so beautifully. She'd wanted a shibari lesson and the whisper of claws on skin. He'd given her that and more.
They'd broken just about every rule of man and god, a few laws of nature, and the coffee table.
~ooOoo~
It began with a gauntlet, playfully tossed down. Catch me if you can, sugar. She had enough Mississippi in her that it was a challenge. She hit him with a surprise left and ran. He chased after, grinning even as the wildness surged, inevitable as the tide and just as unpredictable. Glimpsing her moving fast and low between the thick trunks was the last thing Logan consciously remembered; the rising moon's light reflected flicker-bright off her platinum hair as it streamed out behind her.
Logan came back to himself much later, disoriented a little but grounded by the twin scents of rich, peaty earth and the heavy musk of good sex. His woman lay in his arms, sleeping. His coats, denim and leather, covered their naked, entwined bodies. Sleep, true, deep blissful sleep could silence her mutation. Her warm breath stirred the hair on his chest and he smiled at the silky tickle of her hair against his skin.
He recognized the warm, cozy nest. They'd once spent an evening hidden under this fallen log, talking late into the night. That they'd wound up here again didn't surprise him. She'd wanted to revisit this place and had been pretty specific about what she wanted to do here; wild, primal sex. Teeth and claws and mud and blood and every shred of humanity cast aside as they both embraced the wildness within.
He'd needed to be his other self to give her what they both wanted. He remembered every scratch and bite and grunt. He just hadn't been the one driving the train. She'd met that unapologetic male energy with a beautiful savagery all her own.
Rubbing a strand of her soft, fragrant hair around his thick finger, he marveled again at the change in her. To claim him for her own, she'd had to embrace all that she was. It had been the making of her, spilling over into all aspects of her life. She'd always been headstrong and sassy. Underscoring it now was a quiet, unshakable confidence that had come with opening herself to the wildness within.
She was the Rogue now, down to the marrow of her bones. Fierce. Strong. Equal measures brave and reckless. Ruthless in defense of those she loved. Quick to anger. Slow to forgive. Passionate. Tender and violent… and loyal to the end.
It had happened so slowly that he hadn't seen it until the thick of battle. Fighting all around. Blood and pain and the acrid stink of fear and thermite. The ground shook with concussive blasts and as the wind shifted clearing the smoke, he saw her standing there just for a moment. Not afraid. Not cowering. Her hair whipped around her face. Chin set. Eyes glittering. Focused. Powerful.
He understood that this was just the beginning. Her power would continue to grow. It wasn't the intensity that made the others uncomfortable so much as her enthusiasm for embracing it. She had stepped over that line cleanly and never looked back.
And it had begun with a single nod that night she'd come to him and stepped out of her too small skin and into something neither of them had expected.
He'd overheard the firecracker grilling her about the loss of her virginity not long after the others had become aware that things had changed between them. She'd fired back that she hadn't lost a damn thing. That it was the claiming of a life that included sex and touch and intimacy with the one man she loved above all things.
Her fierce, unguarded words had struck them all mute.
He knew then that it hadn't begun that night in the cabin. It had started long ago, on a snowy road when two broken people had taken a chance on each other.
~ooOoo~
Logan and Marie were sitting at a small table, knocking back longnecks in a roadhouse bar; watching the rest of the team drinking and dancing as they celebrated a decisive victory and the fact that they'd all still been standing when the smoke cleared. Marie and Logan weren't joiners by nature, but they both understood the importance of family and pack dynamics.
She was sweating from the crush of the bodies and the unexpected thrill of a turn on the floor with Logan; a Texas two step that had left her breathless and grinning from ear to ear.
"I didn't know you could dance, sugar."
He grunted. "Hell, anyone who can fuck good can dance good, darlin'."
"Cocky, much?"
"Yep. Course, an enthusiastic partner helps, either way."
"God. You're beyond help."
"Didn't hear you disagreein' earlier, baby."
She winked at him. "That's 'cause my mouth was full, cowboy."
He chuckled at her teasing and dropped an arm around her, pulling her close. She was strong, but not unaffected by the battle they'd waded through tonight. It had rocked them both. He hoped she'd never become so accustomed to it that it ceased to touch her. She'd had him in her mouth in the lower levels before they'd even changed out of their uniforms and he'd made her come with his hand between her legs in the truck on the drive over to the bar. They'd needed that connection right away, a precursor to the life-affirming sex they'd have later when they could return to their bed in the loft and lock out the world.
Marie was soothed by the slow stroking of Logan's knuckles up and down her spine. Steady. Rhythmic. Intimate without being openly sexual. It drew a couple of stares from their teammates, who still didn't quite know what to make of the two of them. Together.
"Your birthday's comin'," he mused aloud, thinking of her face tonight when she got carded. "Whatcha wanna do?"
Neither of them were big birthday people. Logan didn't really see the point and didn't remember his own birthday, anyway. Marie had never really been comfortable being the center of so much focused attention. He wasn't sure about the Rogue. She was unpredictable on a good day.
Last year he'd suited up and taken her to the Hammerstein to see the Moscow Ballet perform the Nutcracker. The previous year it had been the Rockettes at Rockefeller Center. The year before that they'd been in New Orleans on a mission and had wound up at an over-the-top burlesque show full of beautiful transvestites and glittering drag queens. He hadn't really enjoyed any of the performances, but in a low moment, she'd once told him that she had taken ballet lessons for years and that she hadn't danced since her mutation manifested. The sadness etched in her face had made a lasting impression.
The year she turned eighteen, just before she took the Cure, she'd used a fake ID to sneak into a bar with the little firecracker. They'd gotten drunk and wound up doing a sexy bump and grind on the bar together. It had turned into a striptease that had nearly gotten them both arrested. Everyone had been scandalized. Logan had just grinned, glad she was dancing again. Someday he hoped she'd put on the toe shoes and dance for him.
"Kid?"
"Thinking."
"Mmph." That was her 'I don't want to tell you because you're not gonna like it' voice. "Out with it."
She finished off her beer and glanced up at him under her lashes before looking away. "I was kinda thinking about maybe having the team over to the house for dinner. A proper christening now that all the work's done."
He could hear the nervousness in her voice and that was so unlike her it made him look twice. "Table's already been christened, kid," he teased to lighten the mood.
"Shut up," she hissed, swatting at him with an indulgent grin.
"That really whatcha wanna do?" The idea of sitting down with Remy and Bobby at his own table sounded even worse than another trip to the ballet.
She shrugged. "S'in my genes, sugar. Down home cookin'. Sweet tea in mason jars. A house full of people drinkin' and laughin' and sittin' on the back porch under the stars until until they start drifting away by twos into the night. I was also thinkin' it might help."
"Help?"
"With the way they look at us."
"Mmph."
Jubilee had been the first and most enthusiastic flagwaver, much to Remy's displeasure. Hank had congratulated them warmly, but his scent had been tinged with sadness. Logan wasn't sure if it was because he longed for what they'd found or because he'd secretly been a little sweet on Marie. He'd probably never know the answer to that. The good doctor played his cards close to the vest. Kitty was reserved with Marie and skittish with him, and Bobby still glared at them both, even now. A typically male response. He still felt possessive even though he'd been with Kitty for years.
Marie suspected that Pete had known about them all along, even before Jubes had blabbed it to the world. She'd always wondered if it was him in the gazebo all those nights. He'd never admitted it. That unshakable Russian fatalism was hard to crack, but once or twice she'd caught a gleam in his eye that suggested her hunch may be right. Storm had welcomed the news with her usual grace and a few suggestions that made even the Rogue blush.
"Sugar?"
"I think I can manage not to stab the ice prick for an evenin'."
"It was a long time ago, you know? If I can let it go, then you can, too." Bobby's betrayal had cut deeply, but she'd grown beyond it. Children make mistakes, and they'd all been kids back then.
"Ain't that."
"What then?"
"Kitty's a good girl, but someday he's gonna grow up and realize what he lost. That nobody's ever gonna come close to you."
Marie was glad Bobby was out of earshot. The Wolverine's pity would piss him off more than the lingering anger over the way she'd been treated.
"Honestly, I don't care. As long as you feel that way, that's all that matters to me."
His eyes glowed warmly, a moment of unspoken communication, and then he smirked. "You're just sayin' that so I don't gut him or that fuckhead Cajun."
"Is that a yes?"
The Wolverine just snorted and pulled her closer.
~ooOoo~
Logan and Marie stood on the porch together, watching the last of their guests melt away into the darkness. His Mississippi girl shivered against him, their breath visible in the crisp autumn air. He'd enjoyed the evening more than he thought he would, but that last small bit of remaining tension left him as the last of the taillights disappeared from view and she pulled him inside with a contented sigh.
The warmth of a houseful of people lingered in and around them. Memories of good conversation and wry smiles and the plummy tones of hearty laughter left them both full and sated. Savory spices and the rich buttery aromas of decadent desserts mingled with scents of their recently departed friends and the fresh bite of the cold night air.
Abandoned plates and cups littered the small space; a testament to Marie's cooking. Their guests had returned for seconds and thirds, washed down with endless cups of sweet tea, strong coffee and more adult beverages as the evening wore on. It had been a night worthy of the Wolverine and the Rogue, and a surprise to their friends who'd never imagined either of them at ease in a domestic setting.
Still, they were hardly tame. There had been a lot of innuendo, pointed looks and ribald conversation. Hank's attention to the marks on the table had caused the Rogue to blush sweetly. The others hadn't noticed, but their significance had not been lost on the Beast. The Wolverine was not the only one among them with claws and a feral libido.
Logan and Marie spoke quietly as they tidied, pushing in chairs and picking up the dishes as they went. Logan washed while Marie dried and tucked them away, smiling as she hung the pots on the rustic rough-hewn rack Logan had installed and then lowered so she could reach it.
From their comments, it had been apparent that their friends and teammates had not expected such an inviting space. From the candlelight Logan preferred to the handmade furniture to the rich colors and natural textures chosen by them both, the house was a clear blend of the two wildest members of the team. The bearskin rug had drawn comments about its acquisition and invited touch as well as few impertinent remarks that had brought the Cajun perilously close to another black eye. The wall Logan had left with the original plaster and lathing had drawn its fair share of comments as well, and an uncharacteristically soft smile from Marie who remembered that he only kept it because she'd once told him she liked it.
Some stories Marie had obviously enjoyed sharing with the group. The floor they'd laid together. The funny paint names. Other stories had been too personal to share. The Playboy she'd walked in and seen sitting on the bar. The dog they'd found the day they had bought the leather chair. The marks they'd left in the table. Logan's eyes lingered on Marie now as she cleared away the food and wiped away the crumbs from the table. She seemed to feel Logan's eyes on her, her mouth curving into a secret smile as she traced over the three deep gouges. He joined her there a moment later and she felt his knuckles trace her spine slowly. Intimately.
It still surprised him that she moved into his touch automatically and that what she found there went beyond the thrill of physical contact or carnal lust or even the contentment and safety she'd found with him since the very beginning. He wasn't the sort of man to ruminate on such things often, but even he knew how rare it was to be wanted for yourself — not for what you could do, or give, or because of what he was. It was who he was that made all the difference to her.
Marie tidied as she went and Logan followed, blowing out the lights behind her until at last the space was only lit by the fire in the stone hearth. Leaving behind the vibrant smoky teal of the bathroom, they ascended the loft stairs smelling of toothpaste, shedding their clothes as they climbed.
The loft had been off limits to their guests. They'd left the shoji screens drawn. Neither of them had been willing to share that private space. His hand covered hers as they slid the screen aside, revealing their sanctuary. The warm orange wall glowed richly and the cork floor was silent under foot. Logan had built the bed and dresser, but they'd purchased an ebony lacquered cabinet lined with satin to house their expanding collection of toys. From honey dust and feathers to silk cords and sheer scarves, it was an eclectic assortment that spoke to her curiosity and his centuries of experience.
They tumbled into bed with grateful sighs, enjoying the closeness and warmth and silence, just the two of them again, even though they were still buzzing a little from the friendship and the drinks. Moonlight streamed in from the skylight, falling on their entwined bodies and shining brightly on the pale platinum streaks in her hair. They were luminous in the darkness and Logan couldn't resist petting her, pushing his fingers into her hair to stroke along her scalp and wind the heavy fall around his wrist as they talked.
Her hands were drawn to him, too. She was wearing thin, silky thermals because both of them were too tired to navigate her skin after the long evening. He was naked and her hand was between his legs, palming him with a lazy sensuality while they discussed the party.
"Thanks for tonight, sugar."
"For not guttin' the iceprick for monopolizin' my leather chair all night?"
She giggled and swatted his arm. "Come on, now! He wasn't that bad."
"Mmph. I guess I can let it go this once. Sittin' in that chair's probably the closest he'll ever get to sex with ya."
"Logan!"
"Heh. S'just now his stink'll be on it for days."
"His stink?" Her voice held a touch of amused indulgence that made his chest feel warm.
"That cheap shit he wears. Eau de douche."
He could feel her belly quiver as she laughed against him. "It's Armani! But you're right. It never did much for me, either."
"No?"
"Nah. For me it's always been leather and wintergreen…" her fingers squeezed him lightly. "The sweet scent of tobacco and the sharp tang of adamantium. Peat and yeast and the musk of good, clean sweat."
"Like that, do ya?"
"Just a bit," she teased, inhaling deeply as she nuzzled his neck. She licked the rough stubble on his throat and then curled deeper into his side and put her head on his chest.
"Good," he rumbled out, pulling her closer still and tangling their legs.
"I liked having everyone over, too. It felt nice. Cozy. I just meant thanks for tonight. I didn't want to, you know, overstep there."
The confusion in his voice was clear. "Overstep?" His hand froze in her hair.
"For asking to invite everyone to your house."
"Why ask me? You don't need my permission, kid. S'your house too. Always has been."
She picked her head up at that. "Sugar?"
"It was just a project at first. Somethin' to get me out of the Mansion. I ain't a joiner. Never have been. The only good thing that place has goin' for it is you."
She shifted restlessly against him and he could tell she wanted to disagree, but he continued before she could jump in.
"It wasn't a conscious idea— us here, like this— at least not at first." She would understand he meant them together. Lovers as well as friends. "It was a pipe dream, mostly. Then you started helpin'. Puttin' as much of yourself into this place as I did… and with all the sparks we were throwin' off each other I got to thinkin' maybe, ya know, someday..."
"You did?"
"You never noticed that I never once called this my house? Not once."
Her brows drew together in thought and he could tell she was thinking back over the last two years. "You know, you're right." It had always been the house— never my house — when he spoke to her about it. He could see that revelation had rocked her back.
Logan nodded. "But then we were just kinda in limbo and I thought that I'd just finish it for ya so you'd have a place to go even if you didn't wanna share it with me that way." The tender look in her eyes told him she understood what he couldn't say. That if she hadn't wanted him like that then he'd have given her this sanctuary and disappeared back into the transitory life he'd known for so long. Her fingers twined with his and her scent shifted towards sadness.
"Oh, sugar…"
"None of that, huh?" The last thing he wanted — ever — was to make her sad. "I was all set to just, ya know, keep on marchin' with that plan and then you said somethin' that afternoon we finished layin' the floor that got me thinkin' that maybe things might break a different way after all."
"Yeah?"
"You said it should be rich and dark to show off the rest."
"I did. I did say that." Her soft smile said she remembered that afternoon well. Sharing a beer back and forth while they surveyed their work. She'd made that deceptively simple comment and later that night told him she wrote erotica. He didn't think those two events were unrelated. He was right.
"That's when I got to thinkin' that maybe that'd work for us, too. You got a beautiful warmth in you, darlin'. I kinda thought maybe it'd work out that you'd wanna shine against me the same way. The light to my dark."
Her face softened. "That's beautiful."
"S'the truth." He simply shrugged. "I knew I was right when you wanted hickory for the table after all the choices I floated by ya." Especially on the heels of the 'little butts' comment she'd made in an unguarded moment. That afternoon had been a watershed moment in more ways than one.
She nodded, allowing him to pull her back down against his chest. "The light and the dark together. Yours and mine, both."
He grunted his assent. "I just didn't think it'd take you so damn long."
"Sorry. Are you mad about that?"
"Truth?"
"Yeah."
"A little, yeah. I'm not a patient guy, kid. That night at the Red Door almost broke me." And the following torturous months were some of the longest of his life.
"I think it broke me a little, too."
"Heh. Good."
He felt her smile against his shoulder. "It wasn't ever a question of loving you. You know that right?"
"What else could it be?"
"I've always loved all of you, sugar. Every bit. It was embracing all of me that took time. How could I expect you to walk with my heart if I hadn't learned how to do that myself first?"
His mouth open and shut a few times. He wasn't sure how to respond to such stark honesty. She stripped herself bare for him and very much expected the same naked vulnerability from him in return. It wasn't easy. They both had growing to do and that realization stung a bit, even now.
"Sometimes it's easy to forget you're just a kid."
She sighed softly. "I haven't been that since Laughlin, sugar. You know that."
He knew. "You know what I mean."
She knew, too. "I do." Her innocence and youth had been sacrificed on the altar of all the minds and memories she had within her own head. Inexperience and naiveté were two entirely different things and they'd both needed to make their peace with that.
The conversation had grown heavy again and so he nuzzled into her hair, his voice teasing now. "Too bad it didn't help you none at poker, huh? I won a lotta meals off you back then."
The Rogue stirred. "Hmm… how do you know I hadn't been lettin' you win all along, cowboy?"
His rough chuckle rumbled his chest against hers. "A win's a win, baby. Don't matter how, long as you do. Way I figure it, she wanted it or you did. Either way's fine with me."
The impossibly male answer made her laugh and then bite him sharply. The Wolverine licked her in return and then wrapped his hand around her slender throat, pulling her face to his. They breathed together in the darkness.
She broke the long silence first. "I'm different now."
She was. They both were. Different. Better. Ready to be what they both needed to step forward into the unknown.
He acknowledged that with a slow nod. "Nothin' stays the same forever."
"It really doesn't." Her voice was meditative and slow, and he knew she was only half here, the rest of her back in those memories.
After a few moments she sighed, and seemed to refocus, cuddling in closer to his side. "So then...our house," she said, as if she needed to hear it out loud, tasting the words on full, red lips.
"Yep."
She traced her fingers through his chest hair, and he could tell she was still processing it. "Who we were then, and who we are now."
He rumbled his agreement, his own big callused hand coming up to clasp hers. "And who we're gonna be."
He could feel her smile against his skin. "I like that," she said softly.
The Wolverine did, too. Felt it down to the marrow of his metal bones.
His hands tightened on hers for emphasis. Neither of them needed more words. The future was written around them in the home they'd built together, brick by brick, choice by choice. A silent testament to the passion and volatility of their wilder counterparts, a continuation of an unspoken dialogue they'd begun on a snowy road years ago.
The moonlight had shifted, leaving their faces in shadow now as it made a slow egress down their bodies to paint the whorls and flecks of cork floor in tones of silver and slate.
Everything was always in transition. Waxing and waning, a push and pull that was both violent and gentle in turns.
Years. It had taken years for them to be able to close their eyes under the blanket of stars and sleep as they were meant to. Human animals, but animals at the core of their true selves. And there was a simple rightness that echoed for them both in the clarity of that moment. Strong male arms around a soft female body. Safe from the elements and surrounded by a den built together to welcome what came next.
They had shed their too-small skins and emerged as something new, still fragile but vital and strong; their sharp broken bits beautifully joined.
Mates.
The End
Author's note: Okay, I lied. It's not really the end. Think of it more like intermission before the interlude at the Red Door. Two chapters? Three? No idea how many more are (ahem) coming. Haven't written 'em yet. Hah! Give me a week or two to bang something out. This 'final' chapter is so hot off the press that I haven't even thought ahead to what the Red Door chapters might be called. Now taking suggestions! Bonus points for any 80's song that references the color red – or sex clubs. You never know what'll spark the bunnies…
I will say now that if my WolverineMuse gets his way (and let's face it, we all know he totally will) it's going to be epically smutastic – to the power of ten. You have been warned! Y'all can consider what happened at the Halloween party a warm up for the main event. At least, that's the current plan. I'm gonna have a little powwow with the bunnies just as soon as my cake coma wears off…
Feedback is love!
Up next: YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE! ;)