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"Please," she says, and Logan can't deny her.
He's just lost Jean. He'd already lost everything else. He can't lose her, too.
She's giddy, her fingertips light on the rough stubble of his cheeks. Everything is new to her again.
"I'm not hurting you," Marie says, then, more shyly, "am I?" She's straddling him as he sits on the edge of the bed. Her hands can't stop moving, can't stop touching.
He shakes his head and she smiles and she presses her lips to his.
She's so soft. She's so young. But he knows she's had a crush on him for a long time now. And she's never gotten to touch anyone, not like this. Everything is so fleeting though. She'll be gone soon, too. He may not lose her like he lost everyone else--now that she's cured, now that she can go home and away from the dangers their kind brings--but he can have her, here for a little while. She can have him.
So Logan kisses her back, and his hands, when they finally come up to her waist and slip just beneath her shirt, are tentative, but she moans like he's done some sort of magic.
"Touch me, Logan." She's trembling in his hands, and he can smell her, all wanton and eager. He watches her face, her eyes squeezed shut, as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over her stomach, slides his hand up her ribs. He goes to unhook her bra and she tenses.
"I can stop," he says, and his voice may be gruff, but he means it.
Immediately, she starts shaking her head. "No." She keeps shaking it. "No, it's just that. No one has ever." She shrugs. "Before."
"And you think you're ready for more, kid?" Logan asks. He doesn't want to hurt her.
"I'm not a kid," she says, rather petulantly, and she slips out of her bra with only a bit of awkwardness, then takes his hand and presses it to her breast.
"Marie--" Logan starts, but his hand has moved, just a little, catching her nipple between his fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze.
She groans, grinding down against him, and yeah, he's hard in his jeans--her scent, the way she's moving and talking, of course he wants her, too. "Don't-- do that," he grits out. "Not unless--" He stops, takes in a breath.
"Unless what?" she asks, coy. "Unless I want you to fuck me?"
Logan wonders what it is about him that brings out this in her, but he knows it's because she trusts him. Maybe she shouldn't, but she does, and her face is flushed and her heart is beating fast, he can feel it under her breast, and-- "You smell good," he tells her, and he yanks her shirt up over her head, laves his tongue over her untouched nipple and feels her shudder in pleasure.
"Oh my god," she says. "Oh-- oh my god."
He can practically feel her, even through the layers of fabric that divide them, and it has him clutching her back, his other hand moving from her chest to the waistband of her jeans as her fingers trail through his hair and down the nape of his neck, encouraging him.
"Please." Marie pulls his head back to look at him. She's out of breath, panting, and her eyes are glossy. "I want you to." Her fingers still in his hair. "Do you-- do you want to?"
Logan kisses her again, not that it keeps her quiet, as he deftly undoes the fly of her jeans. She starts pulling at his shirt and he breaks away. "What do you want?" he asks, low.
"Everything. I want everything." She's wriggling in his lap like she can't help it--she probably can't. She tugs at his shirt and he lifts his arms for her, lets her clumsily pull it off of him.
"Alright. Up," he grunts, and she backs off long enough for him to peel her jeans down her legs.
She kicks them off, nearly stumbling in the process, and her scent is so much stronger now.
Before she can climb back on top of him, he slips his fingers between her legs. Her panties are soaked and, although his touch is gentle, her knees go weak and he has to catch her. "Whoa," he murmurs. "I got ya."
Her hands scramble to her waist and he takes her wrists, stills them. He helps her out, gets her down to absolutely nothing.
Marie's hands find his belt and she's shaky--needy--as she undoes it, manages to pry open his jeans. Her eyes go wide when she sees him.
"Sure you can handle it?" he asks, and she nods, crawling onto him again. "Hold on," he says, and he can feel how much effort it takes her to stop. He presses a gentle finger into her and, god, she's wet. She's tight, but it slides right in, and her body convulses around it.
Marie whimpers. "More. I'm ready. Please. Logan--"
"Shhh." He kisses her, nice and slow this time, fingerfucking her as she squirms. "Could probably get you off like this."
She shakes her head. "I want you to fuck me," she says.
"You've got your whole life for that now," he tells her earnestly. "Doesn't hafta be me."
Marie swallows. "What if-- what if the cure doesn't take?" she whispers. "What if it's only temporary?"
"Is that why you came to me?" he asks. "Didn't want someone to get hurt?"
"No," she replies quickly. Then, "Maybe." He averts his gaze and she adds, "But I wanted you. Ever since-- ever since I was a teenager. Wondered a few times if maybe we were quick--" She's not really thinking about it, the way she starts rocking on his finger, her body asking for more.
"Alright," he says. He pulls his finger free, leans away from her.
"What are you--"
He rummages around, finally holds up a little packet that somehow has Rogue flushing a deeper shade of red. "If you want everything..." he starts, and she nods. He tears open the packet, rolls the condom on as she watches, still squirming.
He pushes into her and it must hurt. She cries out, even, but she gets past it as he strokes her hair. "Doing alright?" he asks.
"It's...a lot," she says, sounding surprised, and Logan chuckles.
"You're doing great," he assures, settles his hands on the curve of her ass, thumbs stroking her hipbones. She's so tight he can barely stand it.
She nods, starts to move, but then her hands claw at his chest and he can tell she's struggling to keep going, so he takes pity on her. He cups one of her breasts, toying with a nipple, and smiles at her, feels her shaking apart around him.
"Here," he says, and he flips them over, careful not to crush her for even a second. This way she doesn't have to support herself, can just give in to how it feels. He fucks her slowly and she holds onto him, can't get enough touch.
Supporting himself with one arm, he brings a hand between them and rubs. She moans so loud that Logan wonders if she'll wake the whole house, but as he works her clit--and it's slippery, everything is slippery between them and Logan can't remember the last time he was with someone who was this touch-starved, probably never--she goes quiet like she can't breathe. He hesitates, looks at her, but she shakes her head and he pulls out only to push in deeper, quickens his pace and she tries so hard to meet it.
"Logan," Marie manages, breathless, and he shushes her, can hear the effort it takes for her to even try to speak.
"'S'alright," he murmurs. "Just touch. Feel."
She gives a little nod and he keeps going, fucking into her as he rubs her clit fast and hard, leans down to tongue a nipple as best he can.
Without warning, he feels her start convulsing around him, she starts whimpering. He presses his mouth to hers although she's too far gone for it to be anything resembling a kiss.
It feels good--great, even--but he doesn't lose himself to it, makes sure he keeps going until she's finished and it's a while before she's done, tremors running through her in the aftershocks of her orgasm.
He starts to pull out, but her legs lock him in place. "Wait," she says. "You didn't..." She shifts, fucks herself on him a few times. "Come on." Her arms are tight around him, keeping him as close as she can, as deep.
Logan buries his face in the side of her neck, inhaling her scent. She's not Jean, but he cares about her. She still smells right. So he keeps going until he spends himself, waits a moment before he backs off of her. He thinks this is the kind of thing most people regret, feel guilty about, but he doesn't see it that way. Maybe Marie will, down the line, but she looks too awestruck now for the thought to cross her mind.
"You're gonna be sore," he warns her, and she just smiles at him. He ties and tosses the condom. "Was it everything you hoped for?"
She sits up and grabs his hand, twines her fingers through his. "Please?" she asks, and that's what got him into this, but he nods, settles back down and pulls her close. She plays with the hair on his arms, with the feel of skin covering muscle and adamantium. "Thanks, Logan," she whispers.
He presses a kiss to the back of her head. "Anytime," he murmurs. He lets her keep touching him. He lets her fall asleep in his arms.
Three weeks later, she kisses a boy on the cheek and he passes out.
She comes back.