Fic: Desperate Measures - (5/5)
I suck at updating fic. Sorry!
This is the last chapter of this baby, it was only a mini fic. Plus, if you had to wait for me to get around to writing another chapter, we'd all be old and grey.
Logan's still completely whipped (unfortunately for him, not in the literal sense) and Rogue's mind reading powers haven't worn off yet.
Two months, fourteen days and eleven hours.
So they'd gone out.
Dinner had been great. He hadn't tasted a damn thing, had winced at the hole it left in his wallet, but he'd had a wonderful view down her top every time she leant over to scoop up another forkful from her plate.
The bike ride back was even better. She'd slid her hands under his jacket as she held on to him. Just for warmth, she'd explained. Yeah right. That comin' from the girl who still wore gloves even though she'd learnt to control her powers months ago? About as likely to be true as that damn rumour sayin' he used to dress in yellow and blue spandex every weekend.
...And for the record, he still blamed Cyke for that.
Anyway. There had been hands. They'd been under his jacket, and every time he'd gone over a bump, they'd 'accidentally' slid a little lower. 'Momma raised me to be a lady' my ass. She knew exactly what she was doing.
...So did he. He'd picked the roughest, bumpiest road home just to... y'know... speed things along.
That, combined with the vibration of the bike... well... it was lucky he had an iron clad willpower, otherwise he'd have had to do his own washin' this week to avoid explainin' some suspicious looking stains to the cleaner. The few shreds of tough-guy reputation he had left would be lost forever.
So, dinner had been good. Ride home, good. The walk from the garage to his room?
Complete failure.
...In so far as distance covered, anyhow.
They only got as far as the library. Where they were currently standing, in some kinda 'I'm not gonna jump you first' stand-off.
God, he'd never wanted to lose so much in his life.
“You were watching my ass,” she accused.
Oh come on! Who wouldn't? An' she damn well walked in front of him on purpose. No one could blame him for leerin'.
She arched a brow. “Y'know, you think about sex more than most teenage boys.”
Ok, that may be true, but entirely unfair seein' as she was the reason behind the fact that his balls were now probably bluer than Kurt's.
...Damn, and that was an image he never wanted to think of again. Christ.
“You're picturing that? Gross!”
Oh for...
He growled a gravelly, “Your fault,” at her, and silently vowed never to let her near another telepath again.
Which, of course, she heard.
This time she ditched the fake 'Ah ahm offended by your growly male letching' look, and tried out another one of those sassy little smiles instead. Gettin' far too confident for her own boots. “Oh yeah?” she said.
Man, he was so being played. “Yeah.”
“And how exactly were you planning on stopping me, sugar?”
Practical demonstration, Logan decided, was definitely his forte.
He didn't retort. Didn't move. Just looked at her, hard and hungry. He was so damn good at it, it was practically one of his mutant powers.
Then before she could so much as squeak in protest, he backed her up against the wall, hands either side of her head, body close enough to feel the heat. He leaned in and breathed words into her ear. Dirty, filthy words that made her heart race. He could hear it. Then he nuzzled against her smooth neck, his sideburns brushing lightly against her skin as he'd tilted his head... moved his mouth closer to hers... an inch away... less... until they were breathing the same air, and the whole world dissolved into non-existence around them.
He felt her stand on tiptoes. Felt her lean in...
Then he pulled away.
Smirked.
“Like that,” he said.
With a cry of outrage, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, hauled him inside the nearest room. The library.
Two months, fourteen days, eleven hours and three minutes.
...What?
It had been a GODDAMN long time!
His first coherent thought was, fuck, he'd never read a book the same way again.
Hell, he wasn't gonna be able to so much as walk past the library without getting a serious hard-on, and that could prove a real bitch on the occasions Scott decided to hold the team de-briefings in there.
His second coherent thought was more along the lines of a of a rather heart-gripping 'damn, she looks beautiful' which kinda caught him off guard, seein' as his usual post-sex reaction was something along the lines of a 'hell yeah!' I mean, the 'hell yeah' was still there, but it wanted to buy her kittens and flowers, and spend nights just cuddling and having meaningful conversations about relationships all the other shit that the Wolverine just did not do.
He growled a little. Flexed his knuckles until he felt the edges of his claws, just to remind himself he was badass. Yeah. That was more like it.
Still, sated and flushed, with one leg wrapped around him, the other foot balancing on the bottom rung of the ladder, skirt hiked, and a hand still gripped in his hair, she was about the sexiest damn thing he'd ever seen.
He released his grip on the bookshelf they were pressed against, not caring about the claw-marks it now bore. Then, as he disentangled himself from her, he dipped his head to touch his mouth against her now very well kissed lips, his hands fumbling with her dishevelled clothes, pulling them back into place... well... most of them, lovin' the half smirk on her face as she slid back down to the ground. Lovin' her even more as she reached out and adjusted his shirt. As she kissed him back while she re-buttoned his fly.
He didn't care he was almost enjoying the dressing as much as he enjoyed the un-dressing. Didn't even care he was thinking the 'L' word. Didn't care about anythin' else in the world...
“Well,” she said, breathlessly, “that was...”
“Unexpected? Hot? Best damn time of your life?”
“...Quick.”
Oh for fucks sake.
“C'mere darlin', I ain't even started yet.”
Girl was gonna be the death of him.
...Hell, but what a way to go...
This is the last chapter of this baby, it was only a mini fic. Plus, if you had to wait for me to get around to writing another chapter, we'd all be old and grey.
Logan's still completely whipped (unfortunately for him, not in the literal sense) and Rogue's mind reading powers haven't worn off yet.
Two months, fourteen days and eleven hours.
So they'd gone out.
Dinner had been great. He hadn't tasted a damn thing, had winced at the hole it left in his wallet, but he'd had a wonderful view down her top every time she leant over to scoop up another forkful from her plate.
The bike ride back was even better. She'd slid her hands under his jacket as she held on to him. Just for warmth, she'd explained. Yeah right. That comin' from the girl who still wore gloves even though she'd learnt to control her powers months ago? About as likely to be true as that damn rumour sayin' he used to dress in yellow and blue spandex every weekend.
...And for the record, he still blamed Cyke for that.
Anyway. There had been hands. They'd been under his jacket, and every time he'd gone over a bump, they'd 'accidentally' slid a little lower. 'Momma raised me to be a lady' my ass. She knew exactly what she was doing.
...So did he. He'd picked the roughest, bumpiest road home just to... y'know... speed things along.
That, combined with the vibration of the bike... well... it was lucky he had an iron clad willpower, otherwise he'd have had to do his own washin' this week to avoid explainin' some suspicious looking stains to the cleaner. The few shreds of tough-guy reputation he had left would be lost forever.
So, dinner had been good. Ride home, good. The walk from the garage to his room?
Complete failure.
...In so far as distance covered, anyhow.
They only got as far as the library. Where they were currently standing, in some kinda 'I'm not gonna jump you first' stand-off.
God, he'd never wanted to lose so much in his life.
“You were watching my ass,” she accused.
Oh come on! Who wouldn't? An' she damn well walked in front of him on purpose. No one could blame him for leerin'.
She arched a brow. “Y'know, you think about sex more than most teenage boys.”
Ok, that may be true, but entirely unfair seein' as she was the reason behind the fact that his balls were now probably bluer than Kurt's.
...Damn, and that was an image he never wanted to think of again. Christ.
“You're picturing that? Gross!”
Oh for...
He growled a gravelly, “Your fault,” at her, and silently vowed never to let her near another telepath again.
Which, of course, she heard.
This time she ditched the fake 'Ah ahm offended by your growly male letching' look, and tried out another one of those sassy little smiles instead. Gettin' far too confident for her own boots. “Oh yeah?” she said.
Man, he was so being played. “Yeah.”
“And how exactly were you planning on stopping me, sugar?”
Practical demonstration, Logan decided, was definitely his forte.
He didn't retort. Didn't move. Just looked at her, hard and hungry. He was so damn good at it, it was practically one of his mutant powers.
Then before she could so much as squeak in protest, he backed her up against the wall, hands either side of her head, body close enough to feel the heat. He leaned in and breathed words into her ear. Dirty, filthy words that made her heart race. He could hear it. Then he nuzzled against her smooth neck, his sideburns brushing lightly against her skin as he'd tilted his head... moved his mouth closer to hers... an inch away... less... until they were breathing the same air, and the whole world dissolved into non-existence around them.
He felt her stand on tiptoes. Felt her lean in...
Then he pulled away.
Smirked.
“Like that,” he said.
With a cry of outrage, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, hauled him inside the nearest room. The library.
Two months, fourteen days, eleven hours and three minutes.
...What?
It had been a GODDAMN long time!
His first coherent thought was, fuck, he'd never read a book the same way again.
Hell, he wasn't gonna be able to so much as walk past the library without getting a serious hard-on, and that could prove a real bitch on the occasions Scott decided to hold the team de-briefings in there.
His second coherent thought was more along the lines of a of a rather heart-gripping 'damn, she looks beautiful' which kinda caught him off guard, seein' as his usual post-sex reaction was something along the lines of a 'hell yeah!' I mean, the 'hell yeah' was still there, but it wanted to buy her kittens and flowers, and spend nights just cuddling and having meaningful conversations about relationships all the other shit that the Wolverine just did not do.
He growled a little. Flexed his knuckles until he felt the edges of his claws, just to remind himself he was badass. Yeah. That was more like it.
Still, sated and flushed, with one leg wrapped around him, the other foot balancing on the bottom rung of the ladder, skirt hiked, and a hand still gripped in his hair, she was about the sexiest damn thing he'd ever seen.
He released his grip on the bookshelf they were pressed against, not caring about the claw-marks it now bore. Then, as he disentangled himself from her, he dipped his head to touch his mouth against her now very well kissed lips, his hands fumbling with her dishevelled clothes, pulling them back into place... well... most of them, lovin' the half smirk on her face as she slid back down to the ground. Lovin' her even more as she reached out and adjusted his shirt. As she kissed him back while she re-buttoned his fly.
He didn't care he was almost enjoying the dressing as much as he enjoyed the un-dressing. Didn't even care he was thinking the 'L' word. Didn't care about anythin' else in the world...
“Well,” she said, breathlessly, “that was...”
“Unexpected? Hot? Best damn time of your life?”
“...Quick.”
Oh for fucks sake.
“C'mere darlin', I ain't even started yet.”
Girl was gonna be the death of him.
...Hell, but what a way to go...