Bulletproof Soul - Part 5
So my weekend holiday turned into a freakin amazing week long road trip with good weather and all. And I was right, the story wouldn't leave me alone so I took my lappy and cranked out a couple of chapters when I wasn't driving. Here's the first one, I hope you still like it. It's still a bit of a tease but will post the next tomorrow once I look it over. And will get on to answering comments too - thank you for those! Always ♥ comments :)
ps, the seed for a Marie POV for this has been planted and is taking root. ( Your fault dutchxfan! x )
Fic: Bulletproof Soul - Part 5
Rating: Uh, idk, PG plus? Just swears and some hot stuf.
Genre: Shipperfic, Angst
Post X3/Movieverse
Words for this part: 3,610
Disclaimer: XMen. Still not mine.
Read from the start HERE
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
PART 5
*
The shrieks of some early morning cartoon wake you.
Your eyes refuse to open for a moment, listening to your body which is stubbornly clinging to the best sleep you’ve had in years.
But when you fully register the soft and supple shape moulded against yours you slam into wakefulness, almost fast enough to make you jump out of the bed - you barely manage to stop yourself.
You hold still, trying to concentrate on your body and not hers, swearing silently. She’s draped over you; she’s shifted higher or you’ve shifted lower during the night. Your chin is touching the top of her head so that you feel her breath drift over the skin at your collarbone. You close your eyes and try not to breathe too deeply because it makes her move into you.
Her leg is overlapping one of yours and her hand - fuck - has found its way under your t-shirt and is resting on your stomach. You breathe in deeply, trying for calm and just happy she’s moved it in that direction and not down because you’ve woken hard, like you do every morning, but this is not every morning. You don’t feel like explaining that any guy she might’ve slept with in a parallel future where the cure had worked would wake like this. In this state.
You listen to her breathing for a moment, sure she’s asleep before you pull your head back slightly to look down at her.
You can see her face now, so close, and relaxed, her lips slightly parted.
A surge of desire spreads from your stomach and on down your thighs, just at the same time as she moves her hand again in her sleep, higher till her fingertips rest in the dip at the centre of your chest. You try to summon up your disciplined thinking from the night before but your senses are overflowing with her and you’re struggling to remember your own name, let alone all the reasons that you should be anywhere other than covered in this girl.
It’s been too long. Too long since you’ve been with a woman and you should’ve realised that before you agreed to this idea like the fool you are.
You breathe in and out, slow and deep and her body rises as well with your movement.
Get up. Get out of there. Before you do something you’ll regret.
You close your eyes and test a small movement sideways, shifting your weight. She doesn’t stir; and you tune in to her heartbeat, slow and steady as she sleeps - much, much slower than yours.
Get.
Up.
You can’t extract your arm from under her without her waking, you’re sure. Because she’s clinging on to you in sleep as if she expected you to leave halfway through the night which, now you think about it, was probably a damn good idea.
You stare at the ceiling for a moment and make your decision. Carefully you run your hand up under your shirt to cover hers and pull it gently down and out. That in itself gives you a little more calm, and you ease up slowly, very slowly, and roll towards your arm, and her, thinking if you can slide her on to her back you’ll be able to slip out and make your retreat. But when you’ve rolled her over successfully, your body is more in line with hers than before and you’re practically on top of her.
She shifts and you freeze, frowning down at her face as her lips curve a little in her sleep. You hold there for a second, telling yourself it’s to make sure that she’s not waking but it’s tough as hell to stop the impulse to press your hand against her lower back and pull her in to your hips.
But you take a few deep breaths and slide away, as was the plan, as you should.
You turn from her, sitting on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands for a moment taking stock. A stray thought of going to the bathroom and getting some release seems like a good idea for about three seconds until you realise what you’d be thinking about if you did. You push up instantly and grab your jacket, leaving without the glance back because you already have it memorised - how she looks wrapped in those sheets on that bed.
Outside, the air cools you for a moment though your jeans are still fucking uncomfortable. You swing your jacket on and grab your cigar and lighter from the inner pocket as you walk down the stairs, uptight to get that first drag. And all you can think of is that that was close - too close.
You decide it’s time to pay a visit to your friend at reception.
The woman is helpful if a little overbearing, giving you information about the nearest city, how to get there, what to do. You focus in on that, like this is the answer - her last three days are about the things she wants to do outside of a motel room.
You finish a bit more of your cigar while you check the bike over. The bike, that’s what you have to do. Get you both back on that bike and away from that bed.
You form a few ideas from what the woman said, thinking of the credit card that accesses the account full of money you haven’t touched since Xavier left it to you. It hadn’t felt right to use it yet, and you’re not even sure if Charles would approve or disapprove of bank rolling this little trip, but when you look at the beat up buildings in front of you, you figure he’d want her looked after better than this. The thought brings Storm’s frown to mind. At least some sense of responsibility must have got through to you since moving to the mansion because you hang a right to use the payphone you caught sight of last night.
The coins clatter noisily through the battered old thing but you get a line and finally a muffled ring tone. She answers in three rings.
“It’s me.”
“Logan! Where the hell are you? You have to come back! You have no....I’ve been out of my mind with...”
“Calm down, she’s fine.”
“She’s not fine, she’s with you.”
“Great, thanks.”
She loses steam for a moment, pausing and letting out a breath and you can picture her moving to sit down behind the mahogany desk in Charles’ office. Her voice when she speaks again is quieter.
“Just...what are you trying to achieve here?”
You smile at that just because it’s just so, her.
“I’m just doing what she wants. She doesn’t want to spend the next two or three days cooped up in that mansion with everyone waiting for her to turn deadly again. I’m just doing what she wants.”
Another pause, and then she carries on. “She’s not wise enough to know what she wants, Logan.”
You close your eyes, resting your forehead on the phone. “I know that. I’ll look after her, I promise.”
“Yeah well, who’s looking after you? I know you better than you think, Logan. You care too much for her.”
You frown, unsure exactly what she’s getting at but knowing that whatever it is, it pisses you off.
“Look, I gotta go. I just wanted to let you know she’s okay.”
“Wait, Logan, there’s something else I have to....”
The line chooses that moment to erupt into static and you waste a few seconds trying to hear her again before hanging up. You turn and look across the court and up to the door of your room, wondering if you feel better or worse for that conversation.
The television is the only sound you can hear through the thin door when you pause there for a few seconds, before opening it.
The bed is empty and you hear the drumming of the shower from the bathroom. Good, a few more minutes to order your thoughts. You step back outside, leaving the door open and lean against the railing opposite to finish the last of the cigar.
So, you’re chief entertainment officer. This aint so bad. Go to the city, let her get her teenaged thrills and then stay in a nice hotel with TWO beds. Though she’ll probably ask you to sleep with her again tonight. You turn and lean on the railing to overlook the car park, frowning at the leap your stomach gives at your last thought.
Then she appears; leans in next to you with her hip against the railing, clad in dark jeans and a black sleeveless top. She swings her wet curtain of hair forward from over her shoulder and starts pressing it dry with a greyish towel, glancing up at you. Her eyes are warm and she smiles softly - you try and give her one back then she speaks.
“Morning. Sleep alright?”
You bite down on your cigar and nod, turning back to the car park before answering. “You?”
“The best. Really good.” You refuse to look at her and maybe that’s why she steps closer and puts her hand on your arm. “Thanks.”
Ignoring last night, and this morning (your stomach gives another, unexpected and fucking annoying, flip) seems like the very best tactic right now and you grunt and push off the railing. “Let’s get on the road.”
Her face lights up the way you love. “Where are we going?”
Your smile is actually genuine. “Surprise. Come on.”
Not longer than ten minutes later, you’re roaring down the main highway, her arms tight around you, her thighs clutching yours. You notice that every now and then she lets her head fall back and closes her eyes, her hair trailing out like a black flag behind you, the long white column of her throat visible in your mirror.
You drive faster, letting the concentration you have to give to the road drown out the thoughts that press heavily on your brain, thoughts that you refuse to acknowledge but that involve her throwing her head back like that for another reason.
She squeezes you every now and then, without explanation- her arms tightening around your middle and her cheek resting against your back. It stirs something protective inside you, a territorial ache that makes you want to take her to the other end of the planet and give her everything she wants. Whatever it is she wants.
Then you finally spy it - the tall white building just over the border, somewhere you’ve always passed and thought would be probably nice to stay if they let your type in there - which to be honest, you don’t know if they do. She jigs up and down in her seat when she feels you pull in, though you can’t hear what she’s saying, but the tone is excited.
When you stop out the front she squeezes your arm and props her chin on your shoulder.
“This place is amazing! Are we staying here?”
You pat her leg to signal for her to get off - so you can - and she does. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t know if they’ll let us.”
Turns out you’re right, the first stuck up bastard who talks to you almost closes his eyes he’s looking at you at such a sharp angle down his nose. You shrug, that and the stares all the other guests give you is nothing new, you’re used to it. But you try once again, for her. The next guy, with blond hair and a fake tan is friendlier - in fact a little too friendly the way he gives you an appreciative look up and down but he’s happy to give you a room so you figure what the hell.
When you come back with a key she smiles from ear to ear and you nearly lift her off her feet when she hugs you. You shake your head at your own lack of control.
Still maybe two more nights to go, buddy. Don’t drop your guard.
As soon as the door’s open she runs full speed at the nearest bed (there are two doubles, thank Christ for that) and barrels into it, rolling and laughing. You can’t help but smile and go to check the view of the valley from the big windows lining one wall. It’s impressive and she’s by your side in a minute, smiling and pointing as she laps it up too.
“This is really cool. So, so cool, thanks, Logan.”
You make some kind of non committal grunt and head to the mini bar. Six different kinds of beers. Now we’re talking.
She actually beats you to it, grabbing two beers out - the ones you would’ve picked in fact. A feeble thought of telling her no crosses your mind but you throw it away pretty quickly. You just spent the night with her, in some sense of the words at least, and you suppose that doesn’t really put you in a position to be coming across the responsible adult now.
She opens them both with the opener in the fridge and brings you one, clinking hers with yours once you take it. She grins up at you and you shake your head, turning back to the view.
“There’s a pool here too - indoor and heated.” You nod. She carries on. “I might go for a swim.”
You turn and sit in one of the roomy bright white sofas, bringing your feet up onto the couch to make it clear you’re not coming. “You enjoy that then.”
She stays there a moment longer, and then she races off to the bathroom, to get changed you assume because you’ve closed your eyes.
You feign sleep when she comes back; too wary of what she might be wearing, or not wearing more likely. She just leaves though and you breathe out audibly when you hear the heavy front door click shut.
So far, so good.
You actually try and sleep but your thoughts stray to the ghost of her arms and legs wrapping you and you have to push up, finishing your beer while watching the view.
You have a look around the room, and then pick up the phone. You think for a brief second of calling Storm back, but decide there are a few hundred things you’d prefer to do over getting another lecture today, and instead, you call reception. You’ve got something you need to arrange.
When she comes back, you’ve had a shower and changed and are lying on one of the beds, actually just nodding off. That changes when she jumps on the bed and you have to open your eyes to see her in just a towel and a black bikini top, a pendant on a long silver necklace lying between her breasts.
“Logan, you should see this pool, it’s amazing.” You close your eyes, throwing your arm back over them again for good measure. “C,mon - please?”
It’s difficult, but you resist another look at her. “Can’t. We’ve gotta get ready.”
She grabs both of your shoulders and shakes them; you can hear the grin in her voice.
“What - for what!!!? What are we doing??!”
You can’t resist teasing her, but with your eyes still closed. “Something boring.”
“Logan!” You feel the bed press down for just a second, and then a weight settles across your middle. Your eyes flicker open, shocked.
She’s straddling you, one leg either side of your waist, her top half leaning lower down. She swats you playfully on the chest.
“Tell me!”
Not good. This is not good.
In one quick and fluid motion you sit up, grip her and flip her over, swapping places by dumping her pretty roughly on her back. You didn’t even realise you were going to do it but the natural instinct to change your positioning had been so strong, you’d acted on complete impulse.
You look down into her eyes, and instantly regret your harsh reaction - especially once you see that she landed so hard you very nearly winded her. That and the fact that even though now you’re on top and that’s better because you feel more in control, it takes you only a second before you realise that although you’re on all fours, you’re still placed perfectly between her legs.
She’s watching you, slightly startled you think but still grinning, even though it’s slipping by the second. You try and work out how best to back peddle - so that she doesn’t think you wanted her off because you’re scared of touching her, but the pause is your undoing because both of you are aware, too aware that you should have spoken by now. You bring your hands up to brace yourself, on either side of her head and make vague mental promises to jump off but your movements are too slow and she’s watching you too closely.
And worse than all of this, the real problem, is the look on her face.
Her eyes are wide and shy, staring up at you and studying your face like she’s never seen it before. You want to look away but her lips fall open slightly and she has this expression that’s such a perfect mix of innocence and desire, you just want to let your weight rest on her to see it change some more.
She draws a shaky breath and her eyes travel down to your lips. Any warning bells in your head sound distant and surreal for just a second, the panic giving way to the fascination at what she might do now.
Then her small hand comes up slowly, tentatively, to your neck, and grabs hold. Her eyes don’t leave your lips when she props herself up on her other elbow, placing your mouths a grand total of half an inch apart.
Your breath and hers mingle and quicken and that inner alarm is getting louder. But for all your certainty that you should move, you find you don’t, heady with her nearness and the feeling of being there, so close that it’s not possible for you to pull away now. That's what you tell yourself anyway, drowning out the panicked drone building in your ears.
But it doesn’t get a chance to break through because she pulls up then, her legs still spread around you and presses her lips up against yours.
Now the shock kicks in but she’s prepared, gripping you closer when you flinch. You try to move, shift your weight on to one hand to push away but then her lips open against yours and you feel her tongue and you’re genuinely lost to the world for a second.
Her mouth is hot and her lips unbelievably soft, you close your eyes to taste them better. She manages to be hesitant and determined at the same time, coaxing your lips to open and it’s completely automatic when your tongue moves to run over hers.
She arches her back slightly, a small noise escaping her as your mouth decides by itself that it needs to kiss her deeper. And all the while you hold yourself stiffly up over her because if you move into her now, you know it’s all over.
And she feels and tastes so damn good, just this small taste of her that you know you shouldn’t have, but you might’ve convinced yourself that to pull away now would hurt her feelings. So you open your mouth to her just once more, stroking her tongue softly and frowning at the feeling that this is a window into some kind of heaven that you really shouldn’t know about.
So it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do to pull back gently, moving your hand to her shoulder and breaking contact. If you don’t stop this now she’s gonna know pretty quickly and without doubt that no matter how disciplined you’ve been so far, you want her, badly.
“Marie...” Your voice sounds gravelly and completely alien and your breath is coming too fast. Her tongue trails one last time over your lips as they close and you use all your will to force your eyes open. “Marie, stop.”
She does, her eyes opening to search yours and so you look down and away so she won’t see the effort this is costing you. You focus your vision on your hand braced on the bed; try to ignore the small amount of material between you and her, and the ease with which you could slide that off her, and have your mouth cover her instead.
Out of the corner of your vision you see her bite her lip though, and then she drops her hand from your neck, leaning back on both her elbows now.
Her voice is nearly a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head and ease off her. Your instinct is to be angry and that’s in there somewhere but she’s just a girl, and mortified now and if you can’t be honest with her, at least you can be fair. You roll off the bed and sit on the side facing away from her -mainly because you can’t stand right now without her knowing how much you really are lying to her.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that to you. You’ve been so good to me, I... I know I shouldn’t have done that.”
I wanted you to.
“Forget it, alright. Just...get dressed. We’ve gotta go.”
You leave her then, on the bed, and stalk to the bathroom. The face that glares back at you is right, you know. You are an asshole. *
Part 6 HERE