Chapter Text
How About Here? (Wolverine/Rogue for palis delon)
*
“How about here?” she pounces, and the energy in the room shifts.
She’d started with a kiss on his cheek, a tiny, terrified brush of lips to see if he could withstand the draw. When he’d reported nothing – not a goddamn thing, darlin’! – she’d mustered up her courage and tried again, drifting her lips down his cheekbone with her eyes pressed shut with hope.
“Still clear,” he’d grunted after a moment, and she’d squealed with delight, grabbing both of his hands to pepper them with kisses. He’d raised an eyebrow at her exuberance, and she’d retaliated by following the line of muscle up his arm until the massive swell of biceps and triceps had begged her to bite down.
“Kinky,” he growled, and she had swung her eyes up to his, desperate to know what that might mean. She has this man in her head, has felt the swirl of lust and longing and ownership and all the guilt he tortures himself with as a result. Knows that sometimes, Logan isn’t entirely in charge, and the Wolverine doesn’t care a fig for too young, and too innocent, and too soon.
Knows that she doesn’t smell like any of those things, not when the rumble of him under her cheek wakes the woman she’s sick of waiting to become, wet for him, and throbbing, her scent rising to blanket them both in waves of mine, mine, mine.
Knows that dark amber flares to yellow when the Wolverine scents his prey but there’s enough of Logan still on the surface to let her run, if she wants to. But he won’t run from her.
So she pounces.
She kneels and slides her tongue over the cords of his neck, a long wet lick until she reaches a spot that makes him shudder, and laves it with her tongue. His arms make a convulsive grab for her, and she ends up in his lap, straddling one thigh, desperately close to surrendering to the need to grind down.
Logan’s hands clutch at her hips as he huffs and puffs in his bid to evade her scent. She feels mean, but they’ve been doing this dance for too long now, and she’s ready to test him on their one inalienable truth: she belongs to him, and he belongs to her.
So she shifts herself higher, and spreads her knees until he’s pressing into her exactly where she wants him to be.
“Kinky, sugar, would be me biting you somewhere altogether more fun,” she says. “Or you biting me.”
This time his eyes flash pure yellow, and the growl is a predatory thing. He’s not trying to resist anymore, dragging her in by the lungful, wallowing in every slippery, tangy, maddening waft of her arousal. Every new indication of exactly what she wants to do to him – and wants him to do to her.
And the Wolverine isn’t in the business of telling his girl no.
He bends his head and clamps his teeth on the sweet flesh between neck and shoulder. He soothes the bite with his tongue, then sucks hard, grunting with satisfaction as her hips jerk along the length of his cock. Maybe he sucks harder and longer than he needs to, just to feel her grind. Or maybe it’s way she smells when he does that, the rich, red desperation that demands satisfaction.
“That where you want my teeth?” he asks, hands already moving south. She can only whine in response, then gasp in approval as he palms her breasts, squeezing them hard as his thumbs flick lightly across her nipples. He lifts his head to lick her ear, then whisper his question. “What about here? Can I bite you here?”
Rogue flushes at the thought, but nods her head wildly, making him smile as he pushes her backwards a little to give him the room he needs. She’s fully clothed, so he licks two damp patches with his tongue, then stares up at her as he catches one distended nipple between his teeth, tugging and pulling at it until he’s satisfied she can’t take any more. Then he moves to the other and does it all over again.
Her body is a single, breaking wave as she arches her back to push her breasts further into his face, then cants her hips to drag her swollen pussy back and forth on his cock. Her eyes spring open, tears welling in a desperate demand he has no intention of leaving unmet. But if he lets himself …
“Get yourself off, darlin’. Pinch your clit. Make it hard,” he snarls, and prays she understands why his voice is so much rougher than it usually is. He’s desperate to sink into the slick welcome he knows he’ll find in her, but his cockblocking conscience is still hollering too soon, too young. He’s happy to be hers, but she can’t be his, not yet.
So he drops his head and talks her to orgasm, dry humps her through the convulsions, then flips them over and pushes up her t-shirt just in time to spend himself all over her milky-white belly. It’s possession enough for the Wolverine, seeing his seed smeared on her skin, and Logan is practical enough to be thankful he’s dodged a bullet – this time.
His breath stops in his throat when she drags her fingers through the mess, then brings them to her mouth for a tentative taste. It’s her look in her eyes, the naked hunger as she drinks in the sight of his slowly-softening cock, that has him blurting out his plan. A whole year early.
“Wanna get out of here? Spend the summer in the cabin with me? Drive up slow and see a few things on the way?”
The wide, joyous smile makes her look even younger than she is, and he curses his cock for leaping anyway.
“Hell yes, sugar. I’m more than ready to see everything you want to show me,” she purrs, and he has a sudden vision of them locked in a roadside motel for the entire twelve weeks. The thought rouses his cock once more, and her sudden intake of breath tells him she’s noticed.
Her beautiful brown eyes are great pools of black when she looks back up at him.
“Guess I better get back to practising then, since you don’t like me covering up when it’s just the two of us. Tell me if you feel anything.”
This time, when he nearly blacks out, it’s nothing to do with the draw from her skin.