Invited
Title: Invited
Author: Terri
E-Mail:
xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating:
NC-17
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of them. Poo.
Archive:
Dolphin Haven, Peep Hut - anyone else, please ask :)
Feedback:
Please? Pretty please? Good, bad, and ugly welcome........
Summary:
Each in their own way, Logan and Rogue invite the advent of the Wolverine.
Comments:
I don't know where, exactly this one came from, except that I vaguely remember
what must've been a time-release bunny, after the posting of Glimpses of the
Wolverine, that asked for a fic where Marie has a relationship with either
Logan or Wolverine, but not both. If that was your bunny, please step forward
and claim your prize (which is basically credit on the website when the story
is posted, and all the peeps you can eat.....). This was also influenced by
Anna Ahkmatova's poem, The Visit at Night, which has always held echoes of
L/R for me (doesn't everything - hey, I'm obsessed :) Here it is, used without
permission.....
Not on the
leaf-strewn asphalt,
Will you
have to wait.
But in a
Vivaldi adagio,
We will
meet.
Again the
candles will be dim yellow,
And spellbound
by sleep,
But the
violin bow won't ask how you entered,
My midnight
house.
These half
hours will pass
In a mute,
deathly moan,
You will
read on my palm
The same
miracles,
And then
your anxiety,
Which has
become your fate,
Will lead
you away from my threshold
And into
the icy waves.
----------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------
Marie could
tell them apart. She'd seen him emerge fully, this last time, the last time
he'd had to risk his life to save hers. It wasn't just that she was in trouble
and dying, she thought, it was how she'd gotten that way - bound, stripped,
and brutally beaten by Sabretooth, and about to be violently relieved of
the virginity she'd guarded so zealously during her time on the road. She
allowed herself an ironic chuckle whenever she thought of it now. She'd been
barely conscious, bleeding to death, and more than a little preoccupied with
her predicament, but she'd been the only one to notice the change in him.
She was the only one who saw the Wolverine coming for her, not Logan.
He knew
that she knew; how could she not? Their last touch gave her life back to
her but stole every last secret from him. Sometimes, she thought it was that,
that had driven the final split between them. Really, it could've been anything
for all she knew. Knowing him, and his secrets, didn't add up to being able
to predict him, not with a man like Logan. The Wolverine, though - he was
much simpler, and he was predictable. So much so that she wasn't surprised
to see him flinging her door open and panting with undisguised need for her.
She could've almost guessed this would happen. In fact, she later thought,
she *should've* guessed. Their last transfer had made him immune to her skin,
and had given his healing powers to her completely and permanently. Those
two changes would eliminate the only real things keeping the Wolverine lurking
beneath the surface and separated from his mate.
What Marie
hadn't counted on, though, was waking with Logan, not her passionate lover
of the previous evening - Logan, who insistently called her 'kid,' Logan
who scrupulously avoided even the appearance of anything inappropriate between
them, Logan who'd responded to her earnest 'I love you' with a gruff 'you'll
find someone else.' She didn't know it in the first few seconds, but a soon
as he let out a surprised huff and backed away from her naked body like it
was on fire, she realized the change had occurred while they'd slept.
"Jesus!"
He was pacing and running a hand through his unruly mane. The room smelled
like sex and a little like blood, and Marie knew that even though Logan tapped
into only a fraction of the gifts given his animalistic counterpart, he could
hardly miss those scents. "Jesus Christ......"
"It's OK."
Marie tried soothing him first.
"No it's
not! Christ, Marie!"
"It's OK,
it's OK."
"We fuckin'
slept together, that's not OK!"
She winced
at that, but tried again. "Logan, it's fine, it's OK. I understand. I'm fine
and so are you. It's all right."
He just
shook his head at her. "What did I do to you?" he whispered.
"Nothing
I didn't want you to," she replied honestly. "Please, come back to bed, let's
just - "
Logan's sudden
doubling-over and retching made it fairly clear he thought that was a bad
idea. He fled to her bathroom, where she could hear him emptying the contents
of his stomach. Great, she thought. Not only does he not love me, not want
me, but the thought of being in bed with me makes him vomit. Literally. She
sat up, and buried her head in her hands, trying to think of what to say
to him when he would inevitably come out.
She knew
it wasn't really that he didn't want her, didn't love her. His denials had
done a poor job of fooling her. No, she reflected, that wasn't the problem.
The problem, she thought, had to be one of two things, or some combination
of both - he wanted someone else more (and she vigilantly pushed thoughts
of the newly dis-engaged Jean from her mind, although she knew that was the
likely candidate) or he didn't want to act on his feelings for other reasons.
With a sickening jolt, she realized something - he'd always acted embarrassed
around her. When she'd told him she loved him, he'd looked like he wanted
to sink into the floorboards. He took a step back from her and any warmth
between them died when someone else happened upon them together, no matter
how innocent the situation. That was it, he was embarrassed to have feelings
for her. She was the school freak and he was one of its heroes. It would be
like the handsome star quarterback falling for the fat, pimply chess club
president.
Logan emerged
from the bathroom, looking pale and shaky. Marie, still processing her realization,
could only watch as shaky legs carried him toward the ceiling fan, which
was serving as an impromptu hanger for his jeans. He plucked the denim off
and put them on, avoiding her eyes. When he was almost at the door, she called
to him, "Wait - let's - let's talk, OK?"
"I gotta
go," he mumbled, shutting the door behind him. Marie sunk back into the bed
and cried.
For the
next three days, she didn't see either the man who'd broken her heart anew
by rejecting her so clearly and so thoroughly, or her passionate first lover,
whose need for her was so great that it could push aside the person who housed
him in body if not in spirit. But on the fourth night, the latter came to
her, waking her when he flung the door wide open.
"Logan?"
she queried, unsure and, if she was honest with herself, a little bit hopeful.
"Grrr....."
That was ample answer. Wolverine didn't speak, at least not in words. Pausing
just a moment to contemplate whether facing another morning of watching the
man she loved run from her bed and become sick at the thought of their intimacies
was worth it, she smiled and extended her hand to welcome her lover.
He woke
first this time, and the fact that he'd flung the sheets from her body was
at first encouraging, but in a moment, she registered his brusque handling
of her, and realized he was looking for damage to her. She laughed out loud
at that - her body would readily heal over any damage done to it; if only
her heart could follow suit.....
"Marie?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you
OK? Are you OK?"
"Sure,"
she answered slowly, pulling the covers back up over herself.
"What -
what - happened?"
"You know
what happened," she answered levelly, waiting for the retching to begin.
But this time, he only looked angry.
"Fuck," he
swore as he got out of bed and found his flung-aside jeans, lying across her
dresser this time. "Damn stupid fuckin' animal!"
"Hey - don't!"
she countered with a sharpness he'd never heard directed at him before.
"Don't call
him stupid just because he wants me. He's not stupid!" Logan just stared at
her slack-jawed while she took in a shaky breath. "Just get out, OK? Just
go."
"Marie -
"
"Maybe you
think it's stupid, maybe you think it's stupid for anyone to - to want to
be with me, but I don't think it's stupid."
"Marie -
"
"Get out!"
She bounced a pillow off of his head for emphasis, and rolled over to bury
her face and hide the tears.
He tried
going to Jean, and to Chuck for help. He didn't divulge all of what happened,
just the very tip of the iceberg - he told them he'd been having blackouts
lately, and that he'd done some things he would never do when he was in control.
He stressed that point greatly. But both telepaths wanted a peek inside his
mind in order to provide any help, and he declined, not wanting them to see
the whole story. He went to Hank next, who suggested that he have someone
observe him to look for triggers for these blackouts, and to keep an eye
on what he was doing while he was 'out.' Logan declined the offer, but Hank
had been helpful. Two nights later, Logan had set up a tiny camera in his
room, and one in Marie's. He felt badly about doing it, but he had to know
what went on in her room on those nights that the Wolverine took over. He'd
vowed on his life and the last scraps of anything he still held precious
to protect her, and he'd already fucked her, twice. He didn't know why she
was less troubled by that than he was, but he did know that it had to stop.
The third
time came just a few nights later, and was like always; Logan awoke in Marie's
bed, tightly holding her naked body to his. She was still asleep this time,
and he was relieved at that. He gently disentangled himself from her, and
caressed her hair as he left the bed. Seeing that she hadn't woken, he took
a moment to surveil the room before heading off to take a look at the tape
of the previous night. There was the familiar scent of sex and a twinge of
blood - he couldn't tell if it was hers or his; she had so much of him in
her that both of them smelled the same now to Logan - and something new,
the salty tang of tears. Marie's tears. Lots of them. Glancing back at her,
he noticed that her eyes were red and puffy, even in sleep. Cursing himself
and letting the claws out, he stalked off to see that damn tape.
He sat in
front of a blank screen a long time before he found the courage to press
'play.' At first, it was footage of Marie going about what was apparently
her nightly ritual; she put some kind of goo on her face, then took it off,
and painted her toenails. She changed into her nightgown (and as much as he
knew he should look away, he still didn't), lay in bed watching the small
TV he'd bought her as a Christmas gift, and finally fell into sleep. Logan
didn't fast-forward. He spent two and a half hours watching her sleep on the
tape, watching her minute sighs and shifts. Abruptly, though, both of their
peaceful reveries were interrupted by a haggard-looking, shirtless Wolverine
bursting through her door.
When he
slammed it behind himself, Logan winced, and on the tape, Marie stirred. Logan
watched as she slowly sat up. The Wolverine waited, oddly still yet obviously
tightly-wound. Marie rubbed at her eyes, then regarded him for a moment before
extending her hand to him. That must've been the signal he was waiting for;
he veritably pounced on her at it.
Logan forced
himself to watch as the Wolverine let the claws out and used them to carve
her night clothing from her body, raising a few scratches along the way.
The Wolverine then turned her, flinging her limbs and body so that she was
on all fours before him. Logan's stomach heaved when he grabbed her hips
and nudged her thighs apart roughly. With a grunt of pure primal satisfaction,
the Wolverine invaded Marie's small body.
Logan made
himself stay still and watch - it was proof of his weakness, proof of his
failing, and he should see it. He'd cursed himself a bit for getting equipment
that recorded sound - the forceful grunts and growls of his counterpart made
it all the harder to keep from throwing up. Logan sat stock still while the
Wolverine violated his sweet, little Marie over and over - four times, by
his count, although the beast seemed to hardly leave off. It was at the end
of that fourth time, that something reached through his disgust at the performance
before him. It was a whimper, one of Marie's, and it was unmistakably one
of passion, not pain. He stopped the tape, and rewound it.
This time
trying to focus on watching what little of her he could see beyond the Wolverine's
broad back, and what he could hear of her, he watched their coupling again.
He watched her body press back against the animal's, watched her hips rock
with and against his, heard her sigh and moan his name - his name, Wolverine.
Logan was
still trying like hell to make sense of that information, when the screen
lovers changed positions. Marie flopped to the bed then rolled onto her back
after what looked like an intense orgasm, and the Wolverine simply remained
on his knees, watching her catch her breath. At length, he ran a hand over
her body, lingering at her full breasts. She tugged at his shoulder, inviting
him to lean down closer to her. Logan watched as she whispered something to
him, then kissed him. He heard the beast's appreciative growl at the contact,
but he'd missed what she'd said, so he rewound the tape and turned up the
volume. After a few tries, and with the volume all the way up, his enhanced
senses finally heard it. "I love you, so much."
Logan slumped
back in the chair, stunned. They were kissing in earnest now, with the Wolverine
fumbling a bit in the unfamiliarity of it. After a while, he pinned her shoulders
to the bed, and focused his oral attentions on her breasts, something which
made her gasp and moan almost precisely as she did in Logan's daydreams.
She arched her back, and squirmed a little as her lover made his way south.
Unconsciously, Logan licked his lips, searching for some remnant of her taste.
He watched as the Wolverine lapped at her and drove her to yet another climax,
then parted her slack legs to enter her again.
Marie's head
lolled to the side, and this time, they were at an angle, so Logan had a
good view. Her eyes blinked open and shut, her chest heaved with labored breathing,
and she gripped his forearms when he made the final thrusts into her. He
collapsed on top of her after finding release, unmindful of his weight, and
Logan watched in fascination as slim, pale fingers wound themselves into his
hair, securing him to her.
But soon,
something was quite plainly amiss. He heard Marie's satiated panting change
to hitched sobs, and the Wolverine, too, finally sensed the change. He raised
his head to peer at her, and Logan's heart clenched at her tear-stained face.
His darkest fears were realized in that moment - he saw it as proof she'd
submitted because of him, that she was trying in some way not to hurt him,
as Marie was so often wont to do. He knew she worried incessantly over their
touches, over the pain she'd brought him; this was her misguided, awful attempt
to make it up to him somehow, by offering her body to his animal counterpart.
But just
as Logan was about to stab the 'stop' button on the remote, Marie spoke to
her visibly distressed lover. "Sorry. Sorry. It's just emotion coming out."
"Grrrr....."
That was a querying rumble, not quite a growl, and the beast licked at her
falling tears, causing Marie to give out a pained smile.
"It's OK,"
she soothed the animal. "It's all right." He stopped his ministrations to
look into her eyes, and she took the opportunity to tenderly caress his cheek.
"It's OK," she reassured in a whisper. "It's just that - this is all I'll
ever have of you, you know? Just this one part, just these few stolen nights."
Wolverine's head tilted in the universal body language of confusion. "I know
you don't know him. I know I'm not making sense to you, that you don't understand
the words, and you won't remember. But - but I need to tell you this, OK?
I love you." He rumbled at that, and lowered his forehead to touch hers.
"I love you so much, all of you." She forced out another heart-rendingly sad
smile. "Even the parts that are ashamed to love me," she whispered, then finally
let the sobs take over.
Logan rocked
back in his chair, not breathing. Stunned hazel eyes watched as the beast
comforted her into sleep, licking away the tears and holding her close, purring
into her ear and stroking her back. He heard her whisper a tremulous, "I
love you," once more time before they both slept.
The bitch
of it, Logan reflected as he relentlessly paced his small room for the third
hour of the night, was that she was right. He was ashamed. He gave a shit
what Chuck, Jeannie, Hank, and God help him, even Scooter, thought about
him, and he didn't want their thoughts to include 'asshole pedophile.' This
was his first, and maybe only, shot to be accepted in something that resembled
normal society. Sure, it was filled with muties, but Xavier was a wealthy,
refined man, Jeannie a classy, educated woman who was hot for him, and Hank
and the other teachers were damn respectable people. The simple, unexpected,
ugly fact was that he wanted their approval; it would prove to himself that
he wasn't the animal, that he could function in society as a man, and he'd
wanted that badly and for a very long time. Ironically enough, in its pursuit,
he'd suppressed the animal so well that the only way it could now find expression
was by taking Logan out of the picture entirely. And as soon as it did -
well, upon reflection, Logan wasn't surprised that it made a b-line for the
thing it wanted most.
And it was
Marie that he wanted most, he admitted, forcing himself to be brutally honest.
He had since he saw her in that godforsaken bar. What that said about him
- user, criminal, cradle-robber - wasn't compatible with the other thing he
wanted almost as much. Maybe, he thought, if he'd been able to admit it to
himself before now, he and Marie wouldn't be in this mess. But there was no
more hiding from himself the fact that he'd rejected her, broken her heart
knowingly and well, simply in order to fit in, to be accepted by people he
respected. For that, Logan thought bitterly, I've been hurting the one person
I love.
He was at
a loss for how to fix things with Marie or what to do now. In his heart of
hearts, he'd always been so sure he loved her more. In some ways, giving
her up, loving her enough to push her away, had been proof of that to him.
In reality, it had been nothing more than selfishness, and Marie - well,
she'd shown the depth of her devotion to him on every frame of that tape.
She was selling out her own soul with each moment, taking what she could
steal of him, accommodating both his unwavering, consuming desire for her
and his desperate need to keep that little fact secret. He knew she hadn't
whispered a word of what was happening to anyone at the mansion - hell, if
she had, he'd have already been shown the door.
The question
now was - did he have it in him to sacrifice for her? Not just his life,
his flesh and blood - those were the easy parts. He'd have to give up part
of who he was, or at least something he'd wanted so long and had buried so
deep that it had become a part of him. He'd thought about her on that tape
all day, replayed every sigh and whimper, every squirm and thrust, every
tear and kiss. But the recollection of one simple act at the beginning of
it all settled his mind.
"Marie?"
He'd thought briefly about coming to her as the Wolverine, but then realized
that would only be adding insult to injury, and would be another purely selfish
act. It didn't stop him, though, from envying his counterpart who knew what
it was to feel her, to taste her, to love her unabashedly.
"Yeah?"
She sounded like she'd been crying.
"Can I come
in?" His head rested against the door, waiting. She took a few moments.
"Sure." He
opened the door to see her sitting up in bed, watching TV. "Casablanca," she
explained, entirely unconvincingly. "Gets me every time."
Logan grunted,
and moved to sit at the edge of her bed. "Gotta talk to you 'bout somethin'."
"I know
what you want to talk about, and I don't want to talk about it, OK?" Her
words came out in a whisper thick with tears. "I know you don't like it,
but I won't tell anyone. He comes when everyone's asleep. No one will know."
"I taped
you two together," Logan said, proud of how even his voice remained. "I hadta
know what he did to you, so I taped you two the last time."
"You - you
son of a bitch!"
"Yeah,"
Logan allowed. "Marie, what you said to him, that I was ashamed to love you,
you were right."
She was
still all gaping indignation at the previous revelation, but she managed to
get more words through. "Yeah, well - well thanks for driving that point home,
Logan. Like I really needed to hear that, you asshole."
"I've been
nothin' but an asshole. Look, Marie - I was ashamed to want you, to love
you, not just 'cause I was worried whether it was right for you - which I
was - but 'cause I was worried what people thought 'bout me because of that."
No more words came to her, so Logan pressed on. "Truth is - I love you. Not
as much as you love me. I usedta think it was the other way around, but you
gave up - you've been givin' up little pieces of you, for me." He moved to
take her hand and she didn't resist. "I didn't see it until all this started
happenin', and until I had a chance to put some thought to it, but it's not
gonna be that way any more. I realize you might - you probably - you have
every right to -
"To what?"
Marie whispered, finally finding her voice. She had this improbable look
on her face, one that was equal parts royally pissed and overwhelmingly curious.
"To tell
me to fuck off, but - "
"Fuck off,
Logan." He winced at that, but she pressed on. "What the hell gives you the
right to come over here and say you love me and you're going to do me the
great favor of finally being honest about it even if people think badly about
you for wanting the school leper and expect me to be all happy about it and
jump into your arms?"
"You're
not a leper."
"No, I'm
worse. Lepers don't kill like I do. But I'm just about as attractive."
"That's
not - "
"You *threw
up*," Marie argued, squeezing his hand hard. The fact that she was still
holding it was lost on her, but not on Logan. "That first morning, when I
said to come back to bed, you ran to the bathroom and threw up. I don't need
your goddamn pity, Logan. I don't want it. Fuck off."
"I messed
up." She only laughed bitterly at that. "I wanna make it right with you and,
dammit, I wanna love you. Look, I know I put a lotta hurt into you. I know
I won't ever be able to fix it completely. But I *want* to, so damn bad I
can taste it. And I want you. Marie, why do you think he came out?"
"I know
why he came out," she said. Her mind was turning, and it showed on her face.
That gave Logan some hope. "Why, Logan? Why did you decide this way? You
could've - he could've come over here every night, and you know I wouldn't
have turned him away. You could've had it both ways. Why give that up?"
"Because
you *wouldn't* have turned him away. Because you never did." He lifted her
hand to his lips and gave her a gentle kiss. "Because the worst parts of me,
the ones I'm most ashamed of, you held out your hand to. Never thought anyone
would do that, not for him, but you did."
"Will he
still come out?" she asked, still a little preoccupied by his reverent kiss.
"Dunno. I
won't fight him, if he wants out." Actually, Logan now thought of the Wolverine
as Marie's best protection from himself; he wouldn't just let the beast pass
if he wanted out, he'd throw the gate open for him. A small smile slid onto
his lips at the thought - he'd never had a positive thought about that part
of
him before.
him before.
"Promise?"
She looked up at him, and it was almost like all those months ago, when she'd
first asked him to promise. He vowed he'd do a better job this time.
"Promise."
She flung herself into his arms and let the tears fall. "Oh, darlin'........."
Well into
the next afternoon, they finally emerged from Marie's room. As Marie rooted
around in the refrigerator for some much-needed nourishment, she heard someone
enter the room behind her. Her body tensed, and she waited for whoever it
was to greet her.
"Oh, there
you two are. Where have you been all morning?" Jean. Well, there's nothing
like the acid test right off the bat, Marie thought. She kept looking for
food and let Logan handle it as he saw fit.
"Slept in,"
Logan offered, in what sounded to Marie like a relaxed tone. "Busy night."
That was bordering on playful, and it made Marie smile.
"You really
should stay in once in a while," Jean flirted.
"Did stay
in." Before Jean could respond, he addressed Marie. "You findin' anythin'
in there, darlin'? We can go out," he offered.
Marie's breath
caught at the 'darlin' and she didn't respond. She heard Jean shuffle closer
to Logan and whisper, "What have I told you about not leading the poor girl
on? She's got a terrible crush on you, Logan, and you shouldn't give her
any reason to think it would ever be reciprocated."
"Mind your
own business, huh?" It wasn't the declaration of love that Marie had hoped
for, but it was a start. "Rogue?"
"Yeah, um,
there's some leftover spaghetti, but that's about it. I say we go out." She
closed the refrigerator and turned to face them, catching the pitying look
on Jean's face.
"What do
you think?"
"Yeah, let's
get some steak. Noodles ain't gonna be enough for me, I'm hungry."
"Me too,"
Marie teased with a raised eyebrow. Jean shot her a confused look. "Busy
night," Marie non-clarified.
Logan couldn't
help a chuckle at that. Jean looked even more lost. "What's going on with
you two?" Marie turned her raised eyebrow on Logan, who took a deep breath
before answering.
"We're goin'
out," he answered simply, but, seeing Marie's eyes fall to the floor as her
lips turned into a disappointed but knowing half-smile, he added, "We're,
you know, together, now."
"Together?"
"Yeah," Logan
answered a little more confidently, even as he watched Marie's smile fade
away at Jean's obvious shock. "Together. Took me a while to get my head outta
my ass, but I love her, you know? I know you all think we're not a good match,
but we think different. Cope."
"Logan,
you two can't - can't - "
"We are,"
he answered in a lower, but even more firm tone. "Got a problem with that?"
"Yes," Jean
stammered out. "Several."
"Too bad."
He crossed the kitchen to put an arm around her. "Ready to go?"
Marie looked
up at him, and he could smell the tears coming, even as she struggled out
an even expression and tone. "You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
I'm - I'm not really that hungry. We don't have to go out. We can - "
"I wanna,"
Logan interrupted softly. She frowned and huffed. He ran a finger across
her cheek, then placed it beneath her jaw to lift it up. "Hey - if I fucked
that up a little, I'm sorry. I got caught off guard. Tell me how to fix it."
When she didn't answer, he added, "I love you," for good measure.
"Are you
sure?" she asked. Her openness and sincere tone went straight to his heart;
even now, she was giving him the choice, even now, she'd let him back out
of it all.
"Positive.
C'mon," he urged, letting his hand fall away from her face and squeezing his
arm around her shoulder instead. "We'll go get some rare steak, some good
bourbon, and I'll lick a little of both offa you later."
Jean gasped,
but neither noticed as he led her out of the kitchen and to his bike.
"That was
a pretty good job of fixing it," Marie whispered as she climbed on behind
him.
"I'm learnin',"
he allowed, as he kicked the bike into gear and sped off.
