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Title: Lagniappe Author: Terri E-mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com Rating: NC-17 Archive: Peep Hut, Dolphin Haven, Agony and Ecstasy - anyone else, please ask ;) Feedback: Please? With some post-lovin’ cuddling on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome….. Disclaimer: I don’t own them. Poo. Summary: Logan and Marie have a little bonus talk with their sex. Comments: First of all, an explanation of the title for those of you who haven’t been to Louisiana - ‘lagniappe’ (lan-YAP) is a french/Creole/Cajun/New Orleans-y word that means a little something extra, a bonus, often something like a thirteenth donut a shopkeeper might give to a customer who buys a dozen, or some special service or small gift you get with a purchase. This fic began as (and still is, basically) a smutbunny, with a little conversation thrown in as a lagniappe. Sorry, I was out of donuts ;) The conversational bits were inspired by a few different things - first and foremost, I just couldn’t stand Jean’s ‘good guy’ speech to Logan in X2 - Logan *is* the good guy (and also the dangerous guy - those aren’t always mutually exclusive IMO, but that’s another issue entirely, and these comments are already going to be plenty long enough…..), and it’s Jean’s loss that she can’t see that. I’ve been wanting to fix that ever since I saw the movie, and Marie carries that off here. Second, I had a conversation with a girlfriend about how she was dating the less-than-perfect guy, and whether some guys are fixer-uppers, maybe worth investing a little elbow grease in, maybe not. I don’t really buy the boyfriend-as-house analogy, mostly because I don’t think you can *make* people change and you probably shouldn’t see them as a thing to be fixed or made to suit you, but it’s a viewpoint that is actually shared to one degree or another by a lot of women I know. Third, another thing I’ve discussed with a couple of friends recently is the common perception is that men are more superficial than women - that they fall in love based on looks and that women fall in love based on other less tangible, but ultimately more meaningful qualities. I don’t think that’s quite true, even as a generality - as CJ pointed out in the beta process, there are plenty of women out there who are busily making sure that my gender doesn’t become completely unacquainted with the concept of shallowness *cough* AnnaNicoleSmith *coughcough* ;) But speaking only for myself - I’ve never fallen in love with anyone on the basis of just their looks. I just don’t get that whole ‘he/she looks good, so therefore I am in love’ concept. That’s just not what I think of love as. Having said that, though, the few times I have fallen in love, it’s been with people who inspired sheer physical lust in me so rampant that it would make a smutbunny blush ;) And it’s not that I don’t believe in love at first sight - I do think you can feel a connection, a chemistry with someone right off the bat, but I don’t think that’s just about looks at all. I guess it’s just that the only way to think about love that makes sense to me is holistically - it’s really all about the person in their entirety in the end, no matter how it begins. In other words, I think Marie gets it wrong when she says that men fall in love with looks, women with the person, and each winds up working their way towards the other end of the spectrum. I tend to think that it’s everything about someone that leads you to love them, and that maybe whether you let your eyes or your heart start walking you down that path really depends more on your understanding of what love is than your gender ;) Now you all wish I’d just given you the donut instead, dontcha? ;-) ------------------------------------------------------------ “Are you sayin’ I’m *not* good-lookin’?” Logan’s eyes glimmered with amusement as he looked over at his bedmate. They were lying on their sides, facing one another, and favoring one another with little touches, small caresses. They’d been talking about anything and everything, and somehow they’d gotten on the topic of looks. “Oh, I think you’re just about the sexiest thing alive, sugar. But what I’m saying is that that’s not why I love you. You’re one heck of a handsome guy, but I’m in love with you because of who you are, the whole package, and your looks are just one part of all that, fabulous though they may be.” She was giggling a bit through the last parts, but Logan still heard something serious in there. “Dontcha think I’m in love with you?” She just smiled and blushed like she usually did when he brought up the ‘l’ word. It had only been in the last few weeks that she’d been comfortable saying she loved him, even though she’d felt it for a long time. “I hope you are.” “Marie……..” Before he could gather words to try to convince her, she laid a finger over his lips. “Hush, sugar, I know you love me, I do. I just don’t want to take anything for granted.” Logan nodded his understanding. “But what I’m trying to say is that it’s different for men and women - men fall in love with looks first, then they get to know the person. Women fall in love with the person, and then notice what they look like.” “Aw, darlin’, that’s kinda crap, dontcha think? Men can fall in love with the person too. I did with you.” “I’m not saying they can’t, sugar, I’m just saying they fall in love with their eyes before their hearts. Like you did with Jean.” As soon as the words were out, her eyes got wide and she clapped a hand over her face. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled out from beneath her glove. “I didn’t mean to bring up - ” “It’s OK,” he assured, even as he failed to keep the hurt out of his half-smile. “I’m sorry,” she said with more gravity and regret. She knew he didn’t like talking about it, felt stupid over it, and hated seeing the twinge of pain she could never quite manage to keep out of her eyes when she spoke the woman’s name. “It’s OK,” he repeated, reaching out a hand to caress her cheek. He was gloved too, like he always was when he was with her. It wasn’t a big thing, not to him, but Marie doubted that she’d ever find words or even touches to express how much that simple, thoughtful gesture meant to her. “You were sayin’ somethin’ about men bein’ shallow bastards.” “No, I didn’t say that,” she returned in a teasing tone, mirroring the lightness he’d suffused his comments with. “I said you fall in love with looks *first*. If you were all shallow bastards, you’d also fall in love with them last, and always. You’d never see the person underneath. All I’m saying is that it takes men more time to see the person underneath. Women tend to spot an asshole at fifty paces, even if he does look amazing.” “Ah, like you did with Remy?” Marie giggled a little. He’d pursued her, hard, but she’d never given the Cajun the time of day. “He’s not an asshole, Logan, he’s just irresponsible and young and he doesn’t really understand what a relationship is all about. I don’t have the patience or desire to teach him, but some woman will, and he’ll turn into a fabulous man. He’s got the right stuff, down deep. It’s just that he’s a fixer-upper.” Logan raised an eyebrow. “What?” “So you look at men like we look at houses, or cars?” Marie thought it over. “Kind of, I guess. It’s not just what kind of car is it, it’s - is it the kind of car *I* need? How much work is it going to take? I don’t mean to sound calculating or selfish, but I don’t want to turn myself inside out for someone who’s not a good fit for me or who’s never really going to give me what I need.” “Not selfish,” Logan mused. “Smart.” “Yeah, well, like I said, gotta love the inside-me,” she teased. Logan’s eyes narrowed and he snaked an arm around her, anchoring it firmly on her bottom. “No objections to loving the outside-me, though,” she half-joked, half-panted. He smirked and gave her a firm squeeze. “Outside-you is easier to take care of than inside-you,” he imparted, leaning his head toward hers and letting the smirk slowly fade from his lips. She knew his moods well by now, and she knew this one meant that he wanted to talk, seriously, despite the hand still glued to her rear end. “You take care of inside-me just fine, sugar.” “Yeah? What do I do that you like?” He also knew her moods plenty well. When they’d begun exploring each other sexually, she’d been shy, afraid to say what she wanted, or didn’t want. He found that she out-and-out wouldn’t say she *didn’t* like something he did, and when he quizzed her on it, she would only say that everything he did was good. It had taken a while for him to learn that the way to ask her was to let her rave about the things that had been her favorites. It avoided making her uncomfortable with implying that there were things she hadn’t liked, and still got him the information he wanted. And much to the delight of both his ego and his id, she absolutely loved to go on and on in detail about what he’d done especially right. Now she was thinking about his question, weighing how to answer. She began on fairly safe ground. "You notice me.” “I notice you how?” “You notice me. You watch me. You’re observant. You remember things I’ve told you, or even just things I mention in passing. Sometimes you make me feel like you study me, but not like you’d study something you were forced to learn or something that was going to come in handy to know - you make it feel like I’m a hobby, or a calling, something you learn because you just like learning about it.” As always, she let out a little at a time and then waited for his reaction. “I learn you ‘cause I like it, that’s right. And I watch you ‘cause I keep an eye on what’s mine. What else, darlin’?” “You keep your word, especially your promises. I don’t worry that you’re not going to do something that you say you will. I like that. It’s - it’s stability, you know? You’re very stable.” “That’s a new one,” he demurred, raising an eyebrow. ‘Homicidal,’ ‘hair-trigger,’ and ‘loose cannon’ were the adjectives most commonly ascribed to him. ‘Stable’ was not usually on the menu. “It’s true, though. In all the important ways, you’re rock solid.” “Hmmm.” He gave her round, curvy bottom another squeeze. “Never really thought of it that way.” Which wasn’t entirely true - he often thought of himself as exactly that - loyal, stable, honorable, a man who keeps to his word. But he’d been fairly well convinced that other people didn’t ever see those things, that his self-assessment was somehow off. “How did you think of it?” Her voice was soft, and low, easy. She knew how to get him to talk too. “I’m the dangerous guy,” he began. “Women stick with the good guy. The good guy, it ain’t me.” Jean had told him that, and his psyche somehow simply absorbed it as truth without questioning it. “Who says you’re not the good guy?” “Everybody.” That was true - it wasn’t just Jean; she’d just been the one to say it in words instead of in body language or in lowered expectations. “I never listen to Everybody,” Marie confided, scuttling closer to his body. “Everybody usually gets it wrong. You’re not the dangerous guy. There’s not a single dangerous thing about you.” “’Cept for claws, a fucked-up brain, bezerker rage, blood-thirsty - ” “Those things protect, not endanger. Those things - you use them to protect yourself, and me, and everyone here. You don’t use them to hurt unless you have to.” “Or unless I want to,” he argued gently. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her sentiments, but he needed her to take off the rose-colored glasses for a moment. “Plenty of times I’ve used those things ‘cause it was expedient or just satisfyin’.” Her nose crinkled up and she frowned. Logan’s heart suddenly clenched. What the hell had he been thinking? If she took off the rose-colored glasses, she’d see him like he really was and there wasn’t a hell of a lot to like in that picture. “Ya know, I meant - ” “I know what you meant. I’m not finding the right words to get out what I mean.” She sighed, then gave it a try. “OK, maybe ‘only when you have to’ is not the best way to put it. Maybe it’s closer to this - you don’t do those things to be cruel, or to inflict pain. Yes, I know sometimes it’s satisfying to get into a fight, to hit and be hit, but you don’t ever do it thinking that you want to kill the guy and you don’t get anything out of seeing someone in pain.” “Nah, not especially.” “So, there,” she pronounced. “You’re not the dangerous guy. You’re the good guy.” He couldn’t stifle a chuckle at that. “What? I mean it.” “Oh, darlin’, I might be good in places, but that don’t mean I ain’t dangerous.” Flashing hazel eyes dared her to disagree, demonstrating the animal nature that always lurked just beneath the surface. “Oh really?” She had a bit of fire in her own spirit, and it, too, surfaced now. “You’ve never made me worry about getting hit, getting yelled at, or getting treated unfairly.” It was his turn to scrunch up his face and frown. It looked like the idea of doing those things to Marie was simply beyond his comprehension. “I never, not for one minute, think that you might be mean to me. Don’t you know how good that is, how not-dangerous that is?” “Dunno………” “If you don’t, sugar, then let me tell you - there aren’t a lot of guys out there like you. You’re not just the good guy, you’re the best guy.” Logan looked startled for a moment, but then his sensual mouth curved into a sly grin. “Aw, darlin’, that’s the love talkin’. You think I’m better than I am just ‘cause you love me.” “Well, that’s a pretty good reason, don’t you think?” She mimicked his trademark raised-eyebrow. “Besides, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you unless you were pretty damn good in the first place. Why would I want to be with you if I didn’t think you were the best one?” He looked like he might make a serious response despite his lingering grin for a moment, but something in him shifted, and he squeezed her bottom again and turned the grin into an out-and-out leer instead. “I think that it’s time I remind ya just what I’m best at, darlin’.” She, too, contemplated a serious response, one that would steer them back to the conversation at hand, but just as Logan had a good sense of when to back off instead of push with her, she had a good sense of when he’d had enough contemplation for one day. “Yeah? And what’s that again?” she teased, not even trying to hide her wide, flirtatious smile. “This,” Logan answered simply as he bent to kiss the curve of her breast. It was covered by her filmy nightgown, but she could still feel the heat of his lips on her body. She always felt a little lightheaded and a little swoony with the first touch of his mouth, even after all this time. There was something about the moisture, and the softness of his lips that prompted an overwhelming reaction in her. When she had erotic thoughts or daydreams about him, they almost always began with the feel of his lips. His mouth soon found her nipple and began to gently suck. Marie’s body twisted with the sensation, arching up to maximize the contact and the pleasure. Smiling a little at her responsiveness, Logan escalated the pressure and joined his hand in the effort. He was soon rewarded with the feel of her fingers lacing themselves in his thick, unruly hair and pressing his mouth more firmly to her. “Sugar……” Marie moaned. Logan chuckled, low in his throat, and tore his mouth from her, just for a moment. “Like that, do ya, darlin’?” Before she could respond in words, he made her gasp with a firm bite to her sensitive breast. Soothing it over with his tongue, he slid his hand down her body, beneath her nightgown, and between her legs. She quickly splayed them, eager for the pleasure he was about to give her. She loved the way he touched her to make her ready, almost as much as she loved it when he used his mouth to arouse her. It was like a little slice of heaven itself. She closed her eyes, letting the sensations wash over her, feeling her heart rate and breathing pick up as his fingers worked magic on her body, making it hum and coil with delicious tension. “Marie,” Logan whispered, lifting his mouth from her now-super-sensitive breast. “Love you.” “Love you too,” she panted, smiling and reaching down to grasp his free hand, easing it away from her body and interlacing their fingers. “Love you so much.” She always wanted to be sure to show him affection when they were together like this, show him that he was satisfying her emotionally as well as physically. “Marie,” Logan moaned, squeezing her hand but not wavering one bit from the attentions he was favoring the other parts of her body with. He could feel her coming close, feel the tension in her peaking, and while their words had stirred up tender urges in him - urges to hold her, kiss her, stroke her hair - he didn’t want to deprive her, or himself, of her release. Seeing her go over the edge always brought a smile to his lips and fire to his body - she looked so unguarded, so wild, so sensual and so beautiful, yet somehow so pure. He liked seeing her like that, and he liked knowing he’d been the one to make her feel those things even more. It was also one of the few times that she seemed to forget about her skin, to completely let go of the necessary, ever-present caution that her mutation required. She was free, if only for a few moments, and that was the best thing he could ever hope to give her. Her skin had never been an issue between them - well, at least not as far as Logan was concerned. To him, it was a just part of her, just something he accepted, and while he didn’t think he’d ever really convince her all the way down to her core that it didn’t make him love her any less or displease him or frustrate him not to be able to touch her, skin to skin, that was, at *his* core, truly how he felt. Which is not to say that it didn’t matter to him - in fact, he hated her skin, because she hated it. He saw it as something that took from her, something that got in the way of who she was and how she should feel about herself. It made her think she was somehow less than the bright, beautiful person he saw her as, and it forced her to be ever-vigilant, to be more far tense and careful than was remotely comfortable or natural for her. But now, as she began to tumble inevitably toward climax, she wasn’t the least bit careful - she was trusting him to be. The magnitude of that wasn’t lost on him - she wasn’t just trusting him with her body, she was trusting him with her mind and her soul. If he slipped, even just for a moment, she’d not only be flooded with pain instead of pleasure, she’d also receive a staggeringly intense dose of him - his mind, his memories, the darkest parts of him. Even though she never talked much about how absorbing him affected her, he saw the sad look on her whenever the topic did arise, and he knew well that what was inside him was far from pleasant. He was always - always - careful to make sure that nothing tainted her pleasure when she trusted him like this. He felt her body begin to buck and thrash, and he kept up the pressure and pace of his touch. Soon, she arched her back sharply and let out a long, low moan, and for both of them, time seemed to stand still. Nothing - not her mutation, not his past, not their history and not their future, mattered at the moment - everything except the two of them, and what they were doing, right here, right now, receded into the far distance. Finally, Logan stilled his hand, and raised his head to watch her. When he made her come this way, with his mouth still on her breast, he could only see parts of her, only angles and glimpses of her body and face. This time, he could see her clenched jaw, her arched neck and the tendons straining against her skin, and just a tease of her white teeth biting down on her full lower lip. The picture of her like this, and the scent of her, were beginning to make the demands of his own body hard to ignore. But still, he wanted to let her have this, to let her wring every last surge of pleasure and contentment that she could out of the moment, and he wanted to watch her just a bit longer. Eventually, her body eased and she came back to herself. Logan scooted up to kiss the top of her head, where it was safe. “Thank you, sugar,” she purred, her southern, honeyed voice thick with satisfaction. It had been good for her, very good. “Thank you,” he growled through smiling lips, an odd mixture of barely-contained passion and mellow happiness. “Gimme a second, baby.” Marie languidly nodded, still floating in a haze of contentment. Logan reluctantly parted from her body, but not their bed, to grab a condom. He was wearing pajama bottoms, which he favored only because the gap in front made things convenient for them - he’d rather go naked most everywhere and especially in bed, but more than his own comfort, he wanted to make Marie comfortable, and the elaborate process of her ‘dressing’ to accommodate his nudity was not something that had the desired effect. It made her self-conscious and reminded her of precisely what he wanted to make her forget - in his bed, he wanted her to think of herself as only his lover, his woman, his Marie, not as a dangerous mutant, not as someone who was imprisoned in her own skin. Wearing the pajama bottoms to bed consistently made it easier, more natural, between them, and that was a small price to pay in Logan’s estimation. Marie watched unabashedly as he tore open the small foil packet and rolled on the condom with a practiced hand. She always winced a little at how well he managed with the gloves on, at how adept he’d had to become. But seeing him erect, plainly jutting out in the gap in his pajamas, and watching him prepare to enter her always made Marie freshly aroused, no matter how satisfying her previous climaxes had been or what other thoughts she may have been entertaining. She ran slim, gloved fingers across her belly, and moaned her invitation. “Ready?” Logan asked. Marie nodded enthusiastically, grinning. Logan smiled back. “Love you, Marie.” “Love you too,” she murmured, unable to keep her hands from reaching out for him. He leaned down into her, his hands positioning her legs and his erection already pressing against her heated flesh. In just a moment, she felt him press at her entrance, and he delved inside her in one smooth, strong stroke. “God…….” “Umph…..Marie…….needta - ” Before he could even finish his plea, she brought her knees up and shifted her bottom, taking him more deeply. They both found that most pleasurable, on a lot of levels. “God, yes……” His hips found a good rhythm and he watched Marie tell him it was equally good for her, by way of her turned head and arched back. Already close, he focused on keeping an even pace, on bringing Marie to the edge once again. It didn’t take long - the feel of her legs clenching him to her, and her heels digging in to the back of his powerful thighs were sure signs that she was close now too. “Logan! Logan, don’t stop!” He had no intention of doing so, but he was well-past being able to communicate that in words. A few grunts would have to do. “Loooogannnnn!” “Yes! Marie!” Her body clenched sharply around his and he came, hard, driving deeply and lodging himself inside her. “Marie…….” He collapsed on top of her, more carefully than would seem possible given his current state, but that, too, was something he was well-practiced in. “God, baby…….” “That was really good,” she panted, causing him to shake with chuckles. At her blush, he tried to hold them in. And failed. “What?” “I like the way you say that, darlin’, but I know it was good.” “Smug bastard,” she teased. “What? I toldya - I’m the best at what I do, darlin’.” Now it was his turn to make her laugh. “Oh, I don’t disagree, sugar,” she said, still giggling, “It’s just that you have so few qualms about saying so.” “Yeah?” he asked, raising his head up from her body but not withdrawing. “You’re sexy when you laugh, you know.” “You’re sexy all the time.” She stroked his cheek affectionately to punctuate the words. He leaned down for a quick kiss, stealing one more sensation past her skin before parting from her body and taking care of the condom. “But that’s back to where we started - you’re good looking.” “Glad you think so,” Logan allowed, crawling back under the covers with her and gently wrangling her to lie on her side, with her back to him. He then plastered himself to her back and threw one arm around her. That was usually his signal that he was ready for sleep, or at least that he could fall asleep if she was tired. “And Marie - I wouldn’t mind takin’ another run-through the conversation, just to be sure we, ah, you know, fleshed out all the angles.” The wiggle of her bottom against his hips told him she might not be opposed to that, and that she might not be tired yet at all. |