Name: Never Been Kissed
Author: Sasha
Rating: R
Pairing: Logan/?
Summary: There's a first time for everything, even for a man as long lived as Logan
Disclaimer: Not mine, neither of them. ::sigh:: They belong to Marvel.
Author's Note: Decided to leave this one open on the pairing so stick whoever you want in there.
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I've never been kissed before.
At least not as far as I can remember. Kissing has always been something I thought of as being symbolic of intimacy, a culmination of the inherent love and trust between two people.
I've never loved or trusted anyone that much except for Mariko. But our love for each other was something so pure and good, that neither of us felt a pressing need to express it in a physical way. We wanted to wait. Besides I didn't want to risk tainting it so I wanted to wait until we were married.
That day never came.
In the wake of her death, I felt a part of my heart close off and die, knowing in my grief that I would never feel that depth of emotion again; so I mourned her loss, long and hard.
It was on the third day, as I lay crying on my bed, that he came to me. I'd locked myself inside my room and despite the occasional entreaty, let no enter. He decided to take matters into his own hands and 'let' himself into the room, in order to comfort me, give me some relief from my sorrow. I'm sure that he didn't mean for things to turn out like they did, but I was in such emotional pain that when the hand caressing my bare skin went from simply soothing, to something a little more...affectionate, I grasped onto it like a thirsty man grabs onto water. I welcomed it, happy to feel anything but pain, not caring whom the other party was.
Things went on like this for some time. He would come up to my room, or I would go to his and we would explore each others bodies, finding new ways to bring out pleasure in the other.
But I never let him kiss me.
He would try though. Oh boy, how he would try. Sometimes he would get down right creative in his attempts to kiss me. And once he almost succeeded, until I came back to my senses and backed away before his lips could actually make contact.
He would often ask me for my reasons behind not allowing it, so I would tell him. Then he would tell me that it was a load of bullshit. We went back and forth like this, with that becoming a new routine in our relationship, if you could call it that, because he refused to buy the answers I gave him.
Finally one morning I blew up at him, told him to quit hounding me on the subject, and went off into the woods to blow off some steam. It wasn't until I calmed down somewhat that I realized that this was the first time I've gotten angry in a long time. Actually it was the first time I felt much of anything other than the intense desire my lover brought out in me, so I started to think.
When he found me, I was sitting in the Lazy-boy looking out the window, in one of the smaller secluded rooms in the mansion. I didn't notice him at first, caught up in my thoughts as I was; when I did my first thought was to ignore him. But then he knelt down beside me, put a hand on my shoulder and called my name in that softly accented voice of his. When I finally turned my head to look at him, what I saw almost broke my heart. His overall expression reminded me of a little puppy, desperate for his master's attention. And there were so many emotions fighting for dominance in his eyes, fear, anger, hope, but the one that stood out the most was love.
It was then that I realized that love had been there for a long time. In every action taken. In every word spoken. In every attempt to bring me out of myself. But it never shined brighter than it did at this moment.
Tears come to my eyes, and I realize that I do not love this man. My heart has been closed off for so long I don't know if I am even capable of feeling that emotion anymore.
But I am willing to try.
It is with that thought in mind that I pull this man towards me for a kiss.
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