Disclaimer: belong to Stan
Author's Notes: Okay, I was inspired by someone who I think is utterly kissable (but whom I have yet to kiss), and well, I think it, I write it, occasionally I post it. It's an interlude, really. I kind of like it that way.
Sometimes, all she really wanted was to taste his lips.
Like earlier - that's all she'd wanted in the world. Watching him pace up and down, lecturing to her and the others, her eyes were riveted to his lips. She couldn't have altered her gaze if she needed to. Jubilee had informed her that she was staring, but she didn't care. Logan had yelled at Jubilee for talking, but she didn't care.
He'd asked if she was alright, so vacant was her stare and it was all she could do to nod and moan a bit.
Finally, of course she did have to break off from the eye-candy of Logan's lips. It had been almost physically painful but it was done and Rogue could feel her sense of normalcy returning. No longer willing to sacrifice anything for touch, she turned around to find Logan unnervingly close behind her.
He'd wanted to know what was going on.
Jubilee and Kitty left with identical grins on their faces, leaving Logan and Rogue alone next to the mats as the room quickly cleared of the older students and their naive quest to best Wolverine in hand-to-hand.
Surrounded by nothing but stillness, Rogue reached a gloved hand outwards, slowly tracing the lips she'd memorized long before today. Nothing, she'd replied. There hadn't been anything wrong, really. Just a little fantasizing. People were allowed to fantasize about their significant others, weren't they?
His lips parted quickly and his teeth caught the tip of her finger as the growl sounded from deep in his throat.
She laughed a little, at his attempt to open her up. Nothing, she repeated. There was nothing wrong.
And then he'd called her Marie. He only did that when they were alone; when he was serious, when he was unusually intense, and lately when he came in her arms.
Just thinking, she'd replied. Just thinking about his lips, just like she was thinking about his lips now. Except now she was tracing them with her finger not her tongue. Just once, she'd whined just for the sake of whining because every now and again whining was a therapeutic thing.
Just once, he'd repeated and her hand had jerked back. She tried to step away from him but he was faster, he was always faster. His arms came around her, pulling her gently closer even as her body stiffened in protest.
No. She couldn't. It was pain and she didn't want to cause it.
She didn't want to see the veins in his face.
She didn't want to have to catch his limp 300 pound adamantium laced self.
She didn't want to crave cigars. Or bourbon. Or Jean. Especially not Jean. It had been a long time since the last touch, but that had come through loud and clear. And he was hers now, and even if he did still crave Jean she really didn't want to know about it.
But she did want to taste him. And he wasn't going into it like a blind fool. Like Remy, for instance.
Just a little kiss, just at the corner of his mouth. So light, so very barely there that nothing happened.
And another, on the curve just under his bottom lip and still nothing occurred. He did hold her a little tighter though and she could feel his length pressed up against her hip.
And another, airily caressing the fullness of his bottom lip.
And another on the sharp curve of his upper lip.
In a fit of bravery the tip of her tongue darted out and ran across the object of her affections and pulling away she closed her eyes to savor for a tiny moment the flavor before she did anything else.
And then the tiny moment was up and she let the emotions flood her as she slowly lowered her lover to the mat.
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