[Logan, Marie] And if you want a doctor

[x-rogue.livejournal.com]

After 'sparring' with Sarah, Marie finds Logan to snuggle and talk and get mended. When the pain keeps you from thinking, though, sometimes getting mended isn't the best way to stay peaceful. Mild warning for blood squick, if you tend that way.


Logan sat at his desk, pen in hand. The stationery in front of him was plain, white, and unlined. It also had no writing on it, despite the fact that he'd been sitting there for a half hour already, trying to decide what to say. The pen rolled between his fingers like a baton, from thumb to pinkie, then back again, over and over.

Marie had loosened up a little by the time she reached the room. Lying on the cool floor for a half hour after a two hour session hadn't been the best choice, but the talk with Sarah had been worth it. She was grateful most of the school was at dinner in one place or another because she hadn't looked at herself in the mirror. Her face felt fine, except for the heat of the bruise on her left cheekbone and the cut she'd discovered there (courtesy of Sarah's shoulder) and the tears in her lower lip (her own teeth, mostly, with the help of one of Sarah's fists). The real damage was all under her clothing. She opened the door and walked in and, seeing Logan in thought at the desk, smiled and went to kiss him.

Logan looked up as Marie drew near, grinning and raising an eyebrow at her wounds. She'd obviously had a good time with Sarah. He turned the chair toward her and tipped his head up to receive her kiss. Wrapping his arms around her back, he was careful to be gentle, not wanting to irritate any wounds that might be hidden by her clothes. "Have fun?" he asked against her lips.

"Mm. Doesn't it look like it?" She settled into his lap with only a slight wince. Her ribs complained with every breath and motion but the mental exercise of pushing it aside was a welcome challenge and distraction; it kept her feeling centered.

"Looks like y'had a great time." He unwrapped his arms just long enough to drop his pen to the desk, then ran his hands carefully up her back. Tipping his head back, he looked up at her. "Want some help with'at, or you still enjoyin' yerself?" Before she could answer, though, he licked some of the blood from her lips.

"Well, let's see. Here, help me get these things off." She tugged irritably at the hems of her sweatshirt and long-sleeved tshirt underneath. "Remind me not to lie around on the floor talking next time."

He slid his hands beneath her shirts and pushed them up. "Up," he said, grinning, and waited for her to raise her arms above her head before he continued. Bruises had blossomed all over her pale skin and, as he pushed the shirts over her head and onto the floor, he smiled. "Sarah's pretty good, ain't she?"

Marie managed to get her arms up to slide out of her shirts and looked at her ribs, on the right, where they hurt most. "She is. Good enough that I could trust her and relax. It was a lot of fun." She prodded lightly at the blackening area on her ribs. "Meh. I was overthinking. She got me there about five minutes in, before I was sure I wasn't going to hurt her. My fault."

Logan nodded, accepting the explanation. Sarah's healing factor wasn't as good as his own, but with her training, she was good enough to keep from getting more hurt than she could handle. He traced the bruise with a fingertip, then licked at Marie's lips again, sucking away a bit more of the blood and preventing the cuts from beginning to heal on their own. "Glad y'found somebody y'c'n trust, t'play with like that," he said, fingering the necklace hanging between her breasts.

"Other than you, you mean?" she teased gently. She began to tug her leather gloves off, one finger at a time. The sweat from her hands made the process slower than usual.

He grinned, but he was distracted by the slow revelation of her hands. "Yeah, other'n me," he muttered, watching her pull the gloves from her hands.

Marie took the forefinger of her right glove in her teeth and tugged at it. "Not jealous?" she asked, grinning impishly at him.

Logan shook his head, eyes still on her hands. "Nope. Y'don't seem t'wanna have sex with Sarah, so 'm not worried."

Marie paused, thinking about this for a moment and then shook her head. The motion loosened the glove's grip on her hand, and her fingers slid free. She flexed them unconsciously, enjoying the feel of the cool air on them. "I don't think so, no."

He took her bare hand in his, drawing it up to his mouth and scraping his teeth over the tip of her index finger. Letting her hand slip away, he sat back in the chair and watched Marie for a moment, quietly. "You're not sure?" He wasn't worried that she'd leave him for Sarah, but her answer hadn't been very clear and he wasn't sure he understood what she was really saying.

Marie frowned at him when he let go of her hand. "No, it's just that I'd never thought of it before, so I had to think about it properly when you mentioned it," she explained.

Logan nodded, understanding, and started tugging on the leather covering the fingers of her left hand. "Stop frownin'," he ordered. "Yer makin' yer lips bleed more." To illustrate his point, he licked at her lips again, his tongue coming away coated in her blood.

"She hits hard," Marie said approvingly, and then leaned in to kiss him, sliding her tongue over his.

A low sound of pleasure was Logan's only audible response as he pulled Marie closer, deepening the kiss. Her blood and sweat were thick on his tongue, in his nose, and in his head; he liked her best like this, after a good fight, worn and sated and pleased. The heat of her anger was the next best thing, but this, this was what he wanted most.

She slid her arms around his neck, wriggling closer, and pulled her other glove off as they kissed. In spite of her discomfort, she made sure to brake the contact when her mutation began to tug at his power.

He slid one hand up to cup her breast, the lace of her bra protecting her from drawing him in. The other hand settled on her hip, his thumb tugging at the waistband of her pants.

She smiled against his mouth, amused at his insistence. "Yes?" She nipped at his lip lightly, teasing.

Logan raised an eyebrow at her teasing tone, nipping at her chin. "Nothin'," he said, with as much innocence in his tone as he could muster. It wasn't much.

"Oh, well, then I'd better let you get back to your writing there." Marie stood up, careful not to move too quickly, and tapped Logan on the nose with a bare finger.

Logan snorted, reaching out to take hold of Marie's arm. "It'll wait," he assured her. It had already waited a year, it could wait a little longer. He stood, his hand sliding down to her wrist, and tugged her closer. "But this won't."

She laughed at him through the shock of pain from the slight tug. "What's 'this'?" she asked archly.

"Full of it t'day, ain'tcha?" he asked, amused. With one arm wrapped around her, he slowly turned her around so that her back was to the chair. "/This/," he explained, tracing the bruises on her face. "/You/."

Marie reached up and pulled the elastic out of her hair and shook it loose, leaning back into the curve of his arm to look at him. "If you say so," she said with a smug little smile.

Nudging her down into the chair, Logan grinned, his smugness matching hers. "I say so." He knelt down in front of the chair and, again, ran gentle fingertips over the blackening bruise on her ribs.

Marie sat down obediently and watched him explore her bruises, lifting her hands to unhook her bra, grateful that it fastened in the front. His intensity and attention made her curious. She'd not put him off healing her before, usually it wasn't much of an option.

There was something fascinating about the way the blood settled into the tissue beneath her thin, smooth skin. It was beautiful and appealing. He wanted to brush his fingers over it, to smell it and taste it, and so he did. He explored that bruise, and all the others peppered over her chest and abdomen, with his tongue and his fingertips.

Marie slid her bra off, tossing it onto the desk, then leaned back in the chair. As Logan inspected her, she ran her fingers through his thick hair and occasionally scritched gently at the base of his skull and down his neck with her long nails. His touches were loving and almost respectful, the brushes of his tongue over the aching places sent a shiver through her.

He purred quietly, rumbling against her skin. As he tasted the last of the bruises, he raised his head slowly and smiled up at her, flashing sharp teeth.

She felt languid, relaxed and almost sleepy,and then she realized that it was peace she was feeling. She ached everywhere and her skin was taut and verging on too cool with a thin layer of dried sweat over it. Her mind, though, was blessedly still. She felt utterly contented and safe and she was enchanted with the man kneeling in front of her and his sharp, wicked smile. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned forward to kiss him.

Logan stretched up to meet her, accepting the kiss with another low, rumbling purr. Her lips tasted more strongly of blood than her skin had, but he resisted the urge to press hard against them, breaking open the skin again.

She slid into his arms as they kissed, her hungry mouth on his bleeding again and her arms winding around his neck. She didn't let him go this time, her power was hungry under her skin. If he wanted to deny her, he could pull away and leave her hurting a little longer.

As she'd slid into his arms, he tugged, and she slid from the chair into his lap, where he still knelt on the floor. He didn't want to deny her, hadn't thought of the possibility of it, but had only been allowing her as much time with the pain as she'd wanted. He'd used that time to explore and caress, but if she was ready to be rid of the pain, then so was he. Her blood trickled into his mouth from her lips and the taste changed, dulled, as her power pulled at him, drawing his own power from his body and blurring the world around him just enough that things seemed softer, grayer.

She pulled him in, drawing his power and his thoughts together and letting them flow through her. It had been a long time since they'd touched like this and it was soothing in its way, to delve into his mind at the same time as she felt herself being healed. Their roles switched slowly as they kissed and at the end it was her cradling him against her, supporting him in her arms once she had taken his gift.

His head rested on her shoulder; the pain of her power pulling him in, as well as the temporary loss of his own power, was draining. He let her support him for another moment, waiting while his vision cleared.

Marie ran her fingers through his hair, soothing, while she sorted through the images he'd give her. A woman and man filtered through, not young, either of them, and she filed their faces away for thinking on later. She prefered to run her mind over his fascination with her fragility, her bruises and pain, and his love for her, which was deep and intense enough to surprise her every time. "Mine," she breathed against his cheek, holding him close.

"Yours," he agreed quietly, and, after another moment, slowly lifted his head from her shoulder. The bruises were gone, he noted with satisfaction, as were the cuts on her lips. "Feelin' better?"

She nodded, tracing his features with her fingertips. "Much. Thank you."

"Anytime," he assured her, his eyes half-closed in pleasure.

She kissed where her fingers had passed, feeling his protectiveness run through her, now focussed back on him through the lens of her affections for him. "I love you. I've been too busy again," she said, a little regretfully. The idea that she neglected him worried her suddenly and she went back over her days since their return in her head, counting up the time they'd spent together.

Logan shook his head, shrugging. "Least you've been doin' things t'make y'happy, most of th'time." He smiled and nudged her nose with his own. "Love you, too."

Marie sighed and shook her head. "Taking care of Manny doesn't exactly make me happy," she admitted. "But it needs doing. The rest, though, that's been fun, yes. On the other hand, you need taking care of too." Her voice was light but her eyes were serious.

"I c'n take care of myself," he assured her with a wry smile.

Marie laughed at him for that. "Oh, saying you don't need me?"

Logan snorted. "That's not what I said, now is it?" He traced the line of her jaw. "I don't need y't'take care of me. That don't mean I don't need ya for anythin' else."

"I forget that there's other things sometimes," she said and her voice was suddenly very sad.

He cupped her cheek. "There's lots of other things. I'll make sure t'remind y'of 'em more often."

She leaned into his touch, rubbing her cheek against the rough skin of his palm, eyes closed. "Tell me you want me to stay tonight."

Logan slid his arm around her waist and stood in one smooth motion and bringing her up with him. He walked over to the bed and laid her down, crawling up beside her. "I want y't'stay t'night." And tomorrow night. And the night after.

Marie sighed and turned toward him, the tension that had crept in to her body sliding away. "That makes everything so easy."

"Glad I could help." Logan would save the questions about what was difficult about the decision for later. Now wasn't the time, he thought.

"You always do." She pulled him to her for a kiss, trying to recapture the peace that had been in her grasp earlier.

He let her kiss him, his body settling comfortably against hers, fully intending to spend the rest of the evening reminding her of as many of the reasons he needed her as he could.

----
Title and tag from "I'm your man" by Leonard Cohen