Touch
by
Dala
DISCLAIMER: None of it's mine, except the storyline, which is an extension of "Third Time's The Charm." So you might want to read that first . . . or not, this is just a stupid little smutfic with pretty much no plot :) If that sort of thing offends you, read no further.
Logan stopped at her door and stood, leaning against the wall in an attempt at being casual. Rogue wouldn't hurt his pride by grinning at his unexpected shyness. "I'll . . . see you tomorrow, I guess."
Now he was just being ridiculous. "Don't even think about it," she warned, grabbing his hand and pulling him into her room. Only protesting a bit, Logan found himself slammed up against the wall, her mouth at his, her fingers clutching his jacket in desperation.
"Whoa, hey, baby, we can take this slow," he warned when she paused for breath.
Rogue glared at him. "I don't want to take it slow. I've spent too damned long taking it slow. I want you, and I want you *now*."
Even though heat was rushing through him, Logan was hesitant. His Marie suddenly seemed small in his arms, and very, very young.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, gazing into her eyes and brushing his thumb against her parted lips.
She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Yes. I love you. I need this." Catching his hand in her own, she looked at him with enormous eyes. "Please."
"Don't have to tell me twice, darlin'," he murmured into her ear, making her chuckle at the seductive tone in his voice. He kissed her, but it was markedly slower this time, gentler.
Too slow, as far as Rogue was concerned. She rolled up the hem of his black T-shirt, running exploratory fingers over the tightness of his stomach, the muscles of his chest. She remembered seeing him like this, in the cage, for the first time. Even then she had found him beautiful. He raised his arms, letting her pull the shirt off and throw it to the side, and closed his eyes as she dropped little feathery kisses over his shoulders.
The rapture of feeling his skin on hers, the absolute joy in touch, overwhelmed Rogue, and she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed once. Logan held her tight and buried his nose in the area between her shoulder and her neck. God, she smelled good. Like soap, and a bit mediciny, and . . . Marie. She smelled like Marie. His grip on her tightened, and he cautioned himself, Slow down. You've got all the time in the world. Don't hurt her.
Gently he slid down the thin straps of her camisole and bra, brushing his lips against the smooth skin, and slipped her own shirt over her head. He fumbled at the bra for a few seconds, growing frustrated, and finally sliced it down the back. Rogue smiled and looked up at him, trust and love shining out of her eyes.
And desire--yes, a great deal of desire. He lowered his head to trace soft, wet circles around her breasts, and she let out a gasp as he took a nipple in his teeth. Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling, and he thought that maybe he'd die from this, anyhow.
But she noticed and released him, whispering, "Sorry."
He brought his face to hers again and said, "Small price to pay, love." Sliding his hands down her waist, he rested them on her hips. Damn, but she was pale--like a marble goddess. He shivered, holding onto the threads of his control like a lifeline.
She pressed her palms to his cheeks, breathing harder now. "Make love to me, Logan." It was a command, and he was commissioned by fate or God or love to obey. Lifting her in his arms, he set her down on the bed and began to remove her jeans.
Rogue closed her eyes in rapture as his hand slipped between her thighs, finding just the right places to stroke, while his tongue repeated the movements in her mouth. She shuddered violently as he slipped a finger inside her, and felt a touch of fear amidst the pleasure as his member pressed against her leg.
He noticed immediately, and raised slightly to meet her eyes.
"Are you sure?" he asked again. Worry creased his brow, and she kissed it, and nodded.
Then he lowered himself over her, and she cried out at the sharp pain of penetration.
Logan stilled, and once more looked down at her, concerned and contrite. "I'm sorry! We shouldn't---"
"Hush," she whispered, laying a finger to his lips. The pain had already lessened into a dull ache. "I'm alright. Just . . . hold me tighter."
He did so, his embrace an act of holding his passions in check as much as for her sake. This was not something to be rushed, and if he hurt her any more than was necessary, he'd never forgive himself.
He moved slowly, gently, inside of her, eliciting gasps of pleasure instead of pain. She marveled at his tenderness, knowing how difficult it was for him to not merely ravish her. Logan was a creature of unbridled emotions, holding them back for her sake, and she loved him all the more for it.
As the pace quickened, she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, and thought, quite simply, I must be going to die from this. No one person can hold so much inside, be filled in so many ways, and live from it.
"Logan," she whispered heatedly into his neck, and his answer was a low rumble. He couldn't hold back much longer, this was it, he only hoped she reached the brink first . . .
Rogue moaned as the world exploded between her legs, in her head. She bit her lip and hung onto him tight, riding the crest of the wave, and sank back breathless as it ceased. He came an instant later, and she felt the hot rush inside her.
Logan collapsed atop her and they lay very much like fish out of water, gasping for air, for several minutes. Then he realized how heavy he must be and eased up, making his lover murmur in protest. "Shhh," he whispered, lying beside her and drawing her into his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, listening to the beat of her heart gradually slow.
Finally she lifted her head on the pillow and looked at him. Finding no words, all Rogue could do was brush his cheek with trembling hands and press tighter to his side.
Logan stroked her back--her bare skin! he thought incredulously--and said softly, "I'm sorry it hurt."
She shrugged lazily. "A good kind of hurt. And a lot more besides." Grinning like a Cheshire cat, she pulled him down by the neck and kissed him. "I wonder just how that healing factor affects your reproductive abilities?"
Astonished, he laughed and shook his head. "You're insane."
"I know. And that's why this is going to work out, because no sane woman would put up with you."
All bantering aside, Logan had to conclude that this was true, and she deserved a reward for figuring it out. A reward that lasted well into dawn.
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