__________________________________________________________________________________________

Prelude:

The zipper was stuck, dammit. Rogue took a deep breath, held it, and tried to ease the offending piece of metal down again, slowly, carefully, and then not so carefully any more as she struggled to get the skin-tight leather off her skin, *now*.

"Fuck." Once more, she yanked, for a moment forgetting about her recently-acquired super strength, and with a loud tearing noise, the zipper gave way, to the cost of a huge hole making the front of the jacket gape and reveal her breasts. Rogue rolled her eyes. Great. Now, if she didn't forget all moral values she had tried so hard to keep Carol Danvers's barely-legal ideas of fun at bay with, and used her skin on the hellhound-like clerk, she'd actually have to pay for a ruined jacket.

This promised to be a fun day, she thought with a snort as she peeled the rest of the jacket off and flung it into a corner of the changing cubicle. The matching pants followed shortly. She glared at the ensemble and crinkled her nose. At least the race overall was still in one piece. She'd liked that one better anyway.

The bell at the door heralded the arrival of another customer, and Rogue's spirits rose as she buttoned up her shirt. Maybe the clerk would be distracted enough to not notice her sneaking out�'with the overall' Carol added, and Rogue smirked, while simultaneously shaking her head in exasperation.

`I made enough money at that last race to pay several race outfits. I don't steal. Well, those two lipsticks don't count.'

Carol sighed impatiently, and beneath her skin, Rogue felt the familiar tickle that announced Carol's trying to take control, grab the overall with Rogue's hands and fight her way out� `And as much fun as that sounds, I need to stay here for a while, at least until the first races are over. So back off,' Rogue admonished sternly, finishing her dressing by donning her gloves and yanking the curtain back. Again, the seams creaked, and Rogue felt Carol snicker in her head, but otherwise the woman kept quiet and retreated.

Fortunately, the clerk seemed to be occupied at the counter with a man in a beat-up leather jacket, who was smoking a cigar right beneath the obvious `no smoking' sign. Rogue grinned. Another of those race-badass-I'm-the-greatest-macho guys. She liked that kind. She especially liked kicking their ass on the road. Gathering the selected outfit in her arms, she grabbed her helmet and approached the counter.

The cigar-smoking guy threw a suspicious look over his shoulder as she neared him, looked her up and down once, obviously discarded her as harmless and then turned his back on her again in a gesture of arrogant dismissal that made Rogue's blood boil in spite of herself. Immediately, she chastised herself. These guys were always the same. Not worth getting worked up about. She had been racing long enough by now to know that no man ever took her seriously, and that that maybe was her greatest advantage. But she'd show him who owned the street in a race, if she got to face off against him. Casting a look at the stranger's broad back, she noticed a black helmet with some kind of vicious-looking animal painted on it sitting on the counter, confirming that he was indeed a driver.

She kept studying him closely, taking in the taut musculature, proud posture and reserved expression the man was sporting as he pulled out a large wad of cash and dropped it on the counter. It was always good to know as much about your opponent as possible.

"That oughta be enough." His voice was deep and sonorous, almost like a low growl tinged with the raspy edge of a good cigar and the slow burn of a good whiskey, and strangely, just like that shot of alcohol would have done, it went right through her, heating and tingling down to her toes.

Inside her head, Carol snickered again. `Getting soft, girl.'

`Am not,' Rogue countered fiercely, dropping her overall unceremoniously on the counter and setting her helmet down next to it with a thud while she dug through her pockets for money. "I'd like this one," she announced, pushing the green and white overall across the counter in the direction of the clerk.

The cigar-smoking one turned his head and raised an eyebrow while he regarded her with an unblinking glare.
"Wait until it's your turn," he grunted, his eyes wandering to the helmet with her name on it sitting on the counter. "Rogue." He snorted and gave her a condescending smirk. "Female driver? God." He grinned in a way that made Rogue clench her hands into fists with the sudden urge to punch his grin right out of his face. "Now they're letting little girls drive motor cycles?"

In spite of the anger boiling inside of her, Rogue managed to answer as coolly as he had addressed her. "Don't think so." The light reflecting off his helmet caught her eye, and under the head of the little animal she saw a word in silver letters. "Wolverine?"

If possible, his glare intensified, until he was pinning her with his gaze, making her feel as if his eyes were burning right into hers. She simply returned his look, noticing that they were a clear hazel. Beautiful�
"Got a problem with that?"

Wolverine's hard voice shook Rogue out of her trance. She managed to give the man a casual glance and smirk before she pried her eyes away from him and handed her cash to the clerk. "Nah. None that I won't be able to solve during the race."

"You think you can beat me? Or any of the guys out there?" Now Wolverine was openly laughing, and if she hadn't known better, hadn't known she needed to lie low for a while after the incident the month before, she *would* have punched him in the face right then.

"Let's wait and see, huh?" she just spat instead, grabbed her outfit and stomped out. Men. This was one of these times when she felt supremely lucky that she was single, that she could take care of herself, even that no one could touch her. She didn't need this. Throwing her head back defiantly, she put on her helmet, kick-started her bike with a loud roar and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Behind her, Wolverine was still following her with his eyes as she disappeared, quick like the wind, as if she'd never been there. He smirked. This was gonna be interesting.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan stepped out of the shower and rubbed the towel over his heated, wet skin. He felt about a thousand times better now that the dirt of the road was off and he could change into fresh clothes. He smiled in anticipation as he thought through his plans for the evening. Find a bar. Have a drink or ten. Pick up a woman for the night.

Oh yeah. There were always babes around when there were races, sexy, willing women that were drawn to the bikes and their drivers like moths to the flame. Women who knew their place. He snorted as he buttoned up his shirt and grabbed the keys for his bike. Not like this hellcat Rogue�even though she had been good-looking. Beautiful, even. But, damn. Logan hated female drivers. They were all the same �ber-feminists or latent lesbians who were living out their male urges. And they just couldn't drive a bike if their life depended on it.

Too bad, Rogue really *was* a looker, he mused as he shrugged into his jackets, the denim one first and his black-and-white leather jacket with the same Wolverine picture that adorned his helmet. Just so people knew who they were dealing with. He cocked an eyebrow at himself while he ran his hands through his pointy hair in front of the mirror. He was a legend at road racing, and even though he hadn't won the last time, or the last two or three times, or the ones before that, he could still kick everyone's ass.

And he would, this time. His face darkened into a scowl. These three days were going to be his. He'd finally show everyone that Wolverine was back. He wouldn't let anything side-track him this time. With that conviction, he flung the door shut behind him and climbed on his bike. Tomorrow, he'd win. Tonight, he'd fuck. He grinned. Too bad this Rogue girl thought she was a driver. She really *had* been a looker.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Rogue leaned at the counter and tossed back her third shot. Thank God that these silly men had backed off. She didn't want to hurt any of them. `Why can't they just leave me alone?'

`Come on. They can feel you need a good ride, and not on your bike, missy.' Carol snickered at her own joke, and Rogue just rolled her eyes while she slammed the glass down on the counter.

`No I don't, thank you very much.'

`Oh yeah, you do. Still being a virgin at 23 is the most pathetic, sad�'

`Shut up.' Rogue ignored the continuing snicker and gestured to the bartender for a new drink. In truth, she couldn't say she had never been tempted to just give in to one of the lewd `come-ons' she heard so frequently in dives like this. She had fantasized about dressing up like your average bike slut, just get drunk and get it over with, but somehow, never gathered up the nerve to actually go through with it.

She just didn't want to make herself vulnerable, give away the precious control she finally had over her life. Living on the streets at sixteen had been hard, absorbing several people that came too close for her liking, being without money or any perspective, and finally, working up her way into this men's domain of racing by giving a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. And now that she was so close, almost at the point where she would finally be acknowledged as a driver, as being equal, she didn't want to get on her back and back to square one. She had worked too hard to sacrifice everything for a few minutes of fun. `Whether you like it or not, I'm going to wait until there are finally *male* race groupies to go after *me*.'

Carol moaned in disappointment, and Rogue grinned. `Then you're gonna die a virgin. And soon, if you don't stop this hell of a crazy *sport* *now*.'

`Invulnerability, remember? And besides, the healing I got from�' Shit.

"Hey honey. Looking for a man to show you how to *ride*�a bike?" Wolverine raised an eyebrow and smirked in the same way that had made her blood boil with anger earlier already.

Rogue just snorted and turned her back on him. She didn't know why this guy was so especially annoying, after all, she heard stuff like that every day. But something about him made it about a thousand times worse. She tossed back the next shot and hoped that he'd lose interest if she just ignored him. Men usually got bored pretty quickly if they weren't admired the way they thought they deserved. Ha.

"Rude, girlie, very rude." No such luck. She groaned inwardly as he settled himself on the stool next to her, smelling like a whole bottle of Jack's. Ugh. Sometimes these enhanced senses were a real bitch, especially the smelling. She wondered how he was still able to walk upright. He didn't seem to have as much as a buzz.

"Yeah. That's me. So just leave me alone, OK?"

"But we're just getting acquainted." He settled down comfortably, she noticed with a look from the corner of her eye. Damn. "I like when women put up a fight. I like a challenge." He tossed back his drink with similar ease as herself, and actually had the nerve to wink at her. "'Cause I always win, in the end, darlin'."

"Not with me." Rogue had had enough. She pulled out a few bills and tossed them in the general direction of the bartender. "I'm a driver." She didn't like how defiant she sounded. She didn't owe this man any explanation. Asshole.

He chuckled. "Sure, baby."

Anger bubbled up inside her and made her want to punch the man in front of her so bad that she could taste it. "Don't. Call me. That. I'm a driver." She didn't care that she was yelling by now, that everyone had gone quiet and was intently watching them.

Wolverine rose from his chair, staring down at her with those heated hazel eyes that made her shiver and hate him even more. "Nah, baby. Girls like you never make good drivers. Let me tell you," he leaned down to her and tipped up her chin, and she flinched back, before she realized that he was wearing his motorcycle gloves, "Way to go for a woman is to shut up, serve cold beer, and to know when to get on her back."

That was it. Her blood roared loudly in her ears, and her hands itched with the urge to smack the man's patronizing grin off his face. Inside, Carol was cheering her on, making her fiery temper flare up like fire. She raised her fists, ready to strike, and saw him lift an eyebrow in surprise, but then she caught herself. She couldn't. She couldn't raise any trouble here, what with the death of that guy last month, she didn't need any more problems. Tears of humiliation welled up in her eyes, and she quickly turned and ran out before anyone, especially Wolverine, could see them.

Behind her, she heard him call something, but she didn't comprehend what and didn't care. She barely made it to her motel and into her bed before she started sobbing and punching into her pillow with all her frustration. Today, she couldn't do anything. But tomorrow, she'd see him lose. She *was* a driver.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan lay on his back in his bed, wondering for the millionth time why he had done it, and cursing himself for doing it. But when he'd seen her, something had just snapped. He'd known that he wanted Rogue, on her back, in his bed, tonight, or none. He smirked in spite of his angry horniness.

He had always liked the ones that played `hard to get'. As he had told Rogue, he liked the challenge. But she was different. It slowly dawned on him that she really wasn't *playing* hard to get, but she indeed *was*. But when he'd realized that, he had already royally pissed her off. He had to give her credit for her bravado, raising her small hands as if she really wanted to have a brawl with him, for the temper that had blazed in her chocolate eyes. She had been beautiful�but she had been extremely annoying too. And she was the reason he was lying here with a hard-on and no babe.

He groaned and shifted to his side. Women like Rogue�they were trouble. They were the kind that he had seen keeping the toughest badasses on a leash, the kind that made men forget their rules, their goals, their convenient life to go and do heroic deeds for. He didn't need trouble now. He needed to win.

He shifted again, without achieving any more comfort. At least racing seemed promising. He had inquired for the list of drivers earlier this evening, and there was no one that posed any real thread. The only thing that had surprised him was that Rogue was indeed driving tomorrow, in fact, the whole three days. Every race. Yeah, the girl definitely had balls.

Which reminded him of his uncomfortable state of arousal. With a groan, he shifted to his back again, realizing that he wouldn't sleep until he'd found relief. Damn, the girl was going to pay for this. Tomorrow, he'd leave her in the dust. But now, he had much more entertaining things to imagine her in.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Rogue lay curled up on her side, her head feeling hot and achy after her crying and the lasting bitching from Carol, who was pissed that she had neither slept with nor beaten up Wolverine. She groaned. That woman really was driving her insane. Thank God she had at least, for once, cooperated when she had had to ban Sabretooth's insane psyche from her mind, and helped her keep a lid on the guy.

She shook her head, trying to keep the memory about the beast out of her mind. She shivered. On nights like this, alone, exhausted, and in a strange motel, thinking about him wasn't a good idea. Sometimes, in spite of all she'd been through alone, she still felt like hiding under the covers. She longed for someone who looked out for her, to be her partner, friend, lover, but she'd probably never have that, she thought bitterly.

All there ever would be were men like Wolverine, annoying, condescending, only in for the quick fuck. And the fact that she could have been attracted to him, would have liked to like him, made it even worse.

She could deal with his being attractive. And if his eyes made her shiver even when she recalled his look, that only proved that Carol was right about the necessity of losing her virginity. No, here the disappointment didn't lie. It wasn't even surprising. The handsome guys were always the most arrogant.

But he hadn't seemed like such a bad person. Living on the streets for years, Rogue had always thought that she had acquired quite a good knowledge of human nature. She knew when to back off and whom to avoid. Wolverine had seemed proud and cocky, but never mean or even bad. His expression was reserved and cautious, which told of street smarts, and she could identify with that. And when he was amused, his eyes warmed up and seemed to smile.

Again, she felt the tingling feeling as she imagined his gaze, and immediately recalled what he'd said to her. Apparently, her first impression had failed her. He really *was* only the conceited driver that he seemed like, with his painted helmet and stupid nickname. Rogue snorted. What kind of a name was Wolverine, anyway?

She sighed. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had played the part of the bike slut tonight, with him, then immediately chastised herself. This man was competition. Her goal was to race, and to win. She'd finally be acknowledged, as a woman *and* a driver. And she'd make a shitload of money that would get her and her bike through the winter. She shivered again as she remembered the winters she had spent on the road. She really longed for someone to hold onto, sometimes.

Curling into a little ball, she tried to cuddle into her blanket, but it was a long time before sleep would come.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Day 1:

Rogue woke with a start as dim light filtered into the Spartan room. Shit. She was gonna be late. Hastily, she pulled on her new overall, once more cursing the crash that had cost her her old, comfy outfit. The new one was stiff and still too tight. It'd be a while until it fit her right. Now, it stretched over her breasts and the curve of her hips. The colors were nice though, a bright green and white, and for a moment she let herself bask in the purely female feeling of vanity before she hastily brushed her teeth and ran out.

She needed to get to the track, quick, or she'd miss the first training.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan swallowed the last of the hot, black coffee and grimaced. The night had been dreadful. Not a good condition for racing, and winning, but the competition looked rather mellow. He was confident that he'd be successful. He leaned against the side of his truck, watching the other drivers bustle about, and absently wondered if Victor was here. He grinned ferally. His arch-enemy hadn't shown up for the last couple of races, and Logan wondered where the man-beast had disappeared to. Maybe the rumors were right, and some other drivers had finally noticed that beneath the gigantic helmet there had been fangs and fur, and an insane mind.

He wouldn't be sorry if the guy had finally departed this life. God knew Logan had tried to send him to Nirvana often enough himself. Whoever had finally succeeded must be a helluva guy, and Logan would shake his hand and give him credit any day.

Logan looked at his watch, deciding that it was time to unload the bike from the trailer, and craning his neck to see if Rogue had arrived yet. Damn. The girl still dominated his thoughts, as if he hadn't tried to get her out of his system last night, repeatedly.

But his own admonishing didn't keep him from looking around. She was nowhere to be seen. Strangely, he was disappointed, even though he told himself that nothing good would have come of another meeting anyway. He shrugged and turned to his engine. He'd wait for Rogue behind the finishing line.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank God. She'd made it. Well, she *had* missed the first training, but she was in time for the race. Quickly putting on her helmet, and struggling to get the mass of brown and white curls under it, she pushed her bike onto the course and climbed on. In the front row, she saw Wolverine's broad back, adorned with his silly silvery animal painting, and felt a flutter of nerves before she straightened and turned on the engine.

She could do this.

Behind the tinted screen of her helmet, her eyes narrowed as her concentration ratcheted up and let everything around her melt into the background. This was what she had been working for. This race, and she'd be there. She turned the handle bar and the engine roared, as adrenaline pumped through her veins in sync with her frantically
beating heart.

She *would* do this.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

The leather of the seat felt warm beneath his thighs, and the engine hummed with suppressed power. Logan felt the familiar thrill go through him and grinned under his helmet. There was no doubt that he'd win, and the anticipated victory tasted sweet on his tongue. He'd show everyone that he was the champion.

He'd win.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Your winner, ladies and gentlemen, driver number 63," the emcee announced cheerfully, as he handed the cash to the person standing next to him.

"Thanks."

Rogue turned on her heel and walked off the track. Her knees still felt wobbly after the thrill of the race, and she was glad that she was still wearing her helmet, so no one could see the flush in her cheeks, or the tears of relief that had leaked out when she had crossed the finishing line first, only split seconds before Wolverine.

�Who was now standing only a few feet away, arms crossed, a dark scowl contorting his face.

"Lift your helmet and let me fucking see your face," he said, and she could have sworn he growled. Looked as if he wasn't a fair loser, and a part of her wanted to grin and pay him back for last night, but her emotions were still far too much in turmoil to come up with anything witty now. So she just did as he had asked, wiping at her tears inconspicuously as she went.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

The moment the helmet was off and a mass of brown hair curled down Rogue's shoulders, framing her rosy, flushed face, Logan almost forgot his anger at losing and swallowed his tongue. Rogue. She had won. She had really�
 
"Fuck." The word had slipped out with his astonishment, and he immediately cursed himself. She didn't have to see that he respected her performance. So instead, he focussed on anything but her face, only now noticing the skin-tight leather hugging her curves. Her very *female* curves�He wondered why he hadn't noticed that before. "Nice outfit, girlie."

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Any satisfaction at the obvious surprise in his face died inside her as Rogue saw him roam her body with his eyes, making her feel embarrassed and cheap in the tight leather. So she still was just a chunk of fresh meat for him, two breasts and a vagina.
"Whatever," she spat as she stomped past him, trying to get away from this renewed humiliation as fast as possible, but a hard grip on her arm stopped her.

"Didn't realize it was you. Shoulda known the helmet. So you really won, huh? Well," he licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows, "you got lucky, now what about me getting lucky with you?"

She tried to look past the sexy sparkle in his eyes as she ripped her arm out of his grip and shoved him a few more inches away. She wasn't comfortable with him so close. "Yeah, I won. Badass toys ain't just for boys, y'know?"

He actually smirked at that, an amused smile that flashed across his face and was gone as quickly as it had come. "Won one race. Won't win the big one two days from now. I'm just getting started. And you never answered my question."

God, how she hated this man. No one had ever made her this angry this quickly. "So you wanna get lucky, huh?" She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Tell you something. If you win two days from now, I'll quit racing and spread my legs for you." The second the words had left her mouth, she gasped in shock at herself. Carol hollered and giggled. Damn.

"Whoa." Wolverine's smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. "Now you can be sure I will win, baby. That's one hell of a motivation."

"Wait." If she put so much on the line here, might as well get something in return.

He raised an eyebrow and snickered. "Getting cold feet?"

"You wish." The harsh tone gave him pause. "If *I* win," she paused and crossed her arms in a mock imitation of him, "*you* quit racing and acknowledge me as the new champion in front of everyone." There. That sounds better, she thought.

`I still vote for the first option,' Carol put it.

`Shut up.'
"Deal?" She glared at him, trying to return the surprised gaze of his hazel eyes in spite of the butterflies in her stomach. Reason told her that she should run, now, and stay away from this man, but she was in too deep already and hell, his eyes were intoxicating.

He regarded her quietly for a few more seconds, then extended is hand and nodded. "Deal." She grasped his hand and they shook, until he drew back and chuckled. "Well, baby, you definitely have balls."

She searched his face for hints of sarcasm, and when she found none, cautiously nodded. "Thanks."

"Your driving still sucks."

She gasped and smacked him across the arm, but it was more a playful swat than an angry punch, and she was surprised at herself. Then she noticed the matching playful twinkle in his eyes and relaxed a little.
 
"Name's Logan."

"Marie."
*Fuck*. Why had she told him that? No one had called her Marie in seven years. No one had called her anything, really. She had thought she had left Marie behind somewhere along the road, but now, the name had naturally fallen from her lips. She realized that she wanted to be Marie, have a real name again, even if it was only for a few days, and even if only a competitor, one she didn't even like much, would call her by it.

"OK. See you tomorrow, Marie. And try not to crash. Don't want to get my booty damaged." He winked and disappeared, leaving her before she could make up a witty answer. She hated this man. She truly did.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Three miles from the race track, Logan was still shaking his head at himself while he automatically drove down the road to his motel. Why had he told her his name? Why had he agreed on this crazy deal? True, chances that he'd lose were low, the girl had just been lucky today.

If he was honest with himself, he had to say that she was just damned irresistible. The moment she lifted the helmet, his anger at losing, at his competitor, at himself, had just evaporated, and all he had seen were her shapely body in the emerald green leather, the angry sparkle in her eyes when she glared at him, the defiant set of her chin, the pouty lips. And the way she got mad when he teased her was adorable.

He harrumphed at his own stupid line of thought. Irresistible, adorable. Pah. She was a sucky female wannabe race driver. �And she had kicked his ass on the track today. One more reason for not telling her your name, bub. Damn. No one called him Logan. No one even knew his name was Logan. Hell, he had only known himself for a few months. Felt better than Wolverine though. And that was what surprised him most.

He imagined the name falling from Marie's lips, and was rewarded with instant arousal, which reminded him of the deal they had made. Damn, but if the prospect of winning wasn't about a million times more attractive now. Never in his whole remembered life had he ever wanted a woman this badly. Marie�

He'd still kick her ass. And then he'd finally have her. Yeah. He grinned and flipped on the radio, humming along as he imagined the coming pleasures two days from now.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Day 2:

Rogue came to a stop in front of her bike, breathing hard from her run around the track. Fortunately, this morning she'd been up early enough to go jogging and work off some steam before the race. In fact, she hadn't slept much at all. One half of the night she had spent reeling from her success at the race, the crazy deal she had made with Logan, and most of all, her telling him her name; the other she had spent fantasizing about, and chastising herself for it, what would happen if she *should* lose tomorrow, and have to pay Logan his `prize'.

She didn't know if these fantasies were dreams or nightmares. On the one hand, the man was sex on legs, and if the things his eyes alone were doing to her were any indication, sex with him would be spectacular. On the other, she felt bad for even indulging in these fantasies, getting pleasure out of them. It was like betraying herself, betraying the dream she had worked for so hard. She wanted to win. Still, the niggling feeling of `what if�' stayed at the back of her mind, now and then flashing her images that simultaneously made her blush with mbarrassment and heat up with desire. God. She hated Logan.

"Damn!" Logan leaned against his truck and watched with amusement as Rogue gave her green and silvery motorcycle a hard kick. "Stupid fucking engine!"

"Hey, hey, baby. The bike can't make up for the driver's incompetence." He pushed himself off the car and walked over to where she was ranting. "Wanna give the winner a kiss?"

"*You* can kiss my ass," she shouted, ripping off her racing gloves and immediately exchanging them for thinner ones. Odd, he thought. "You cheated, and you know it. You cut in on me and urged me to go off-track!"

"That's not cheating. That's called racing, darling." He leaned down and picked up a piece of fender that had come loose during her furious kicking. "Stop it. This is a good machine. Maybe I'll buy it from you when you quit racing tomorrow." Her cheeks flamed with another fit of anger, and he grinned. She was so much fun to tease.

"Over my dead body." She gave the motorcycle another hard kick. "Dammit."

"Now, honey, stop that. I want a fair win tomorrow. Plus, you'll need the bike tonight, huh?" He handed her the fender, and she ripped it from his hand before cooling down a little, calming herself with a few deep breaths.

"Tonight? What's tonight?"

"The off-track race." Her questioning gaze revealed that she had no clue what he was talking about. Shit. She hadn't known.

"Off track? You mean, on the street? I thought that was illegal."

"It is." Great, he thought as he saw her face lighten up with excitement. She truly hadn't known. And judging from the resolute set of her jaw, now she'd be there, at any cost, and besides wanting to keep the group of drivers exclusive, he just plain didn't want her there because it was dangerous. "It's not for little girls."

"Pah." He groaned and rolled his eyes. He should have known that that wasn't likely to change her mind. "I'm not scared. What's the prize?"

"Look, you're not going there, got it, Marie?" He was surprised how easily her name came over his lips, and how urgently he really wanted to get this crazy idea out of her head. Damn, *he* had been hurt pretty badly the last time he had participated in this race. The drivers weren't known for their scruples, and not only once had there been serious injuries or dead people when the dust settled.

"You're not telling me what to do." Her brown eyes flashed, and he simultaneously wanted to spank her like the silly girl she was and hug and protect her.

"I'm not telling you." That gave her pause. "I'm giving you advice."

She regarded him quietly for a few seconds, furrowing her brow as she searched his face with her eyes. Then she snorted softly and turned back to her bike. "You just don't want me there because you're afraid I'll walk off with the prize money."

"Bullshit." Anger was bubbling up inside him. That was what he got once he wanted to be altruistic. Great. "No, I don't want you there because tomorrow I want you in one piece in my bed."

Her head whipped around, and she clenched her lips into a thin line as she put on her helmet and climbed on the bike. "See ya tonight," she hissed, slamming the shield down and leaving him in a cloud of smoke.

He sighed, then turned to load up his bike. Damn that woman.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Finding out where to go had been easy enough. Rogue shook her head. She'd never understand why the police were never able to break up those illegal races in time. She drove her bike into the second row, next to two scary-looking guys, and if she hadn't known she could take care of herself, hadn't had to do so too many times, she would have run screaming. *Marie* would have run screaming. But she was Rogue.

It had been stupid to even think there could be a little normality for her, even if it was only for a few days. Marie had been the one who had fantasies about Logan, entertained thoughts of him liking her, just a little, and grown to like him, just a little. Boy, had she been wrong. She was just one more pussy for him, and the realization that she had lied to herself about that, pretended that maybe, just maybe their deal would result in a pleasurable experience, made her mad. Even more than that, it made her sad.

And she hated the sad little girl that had broken down crying the moment she entered her motel room. Of course he hadn't really been concerned for her, of course the determined expression on his face as he tried to convince her hadn't really been for *her* benefit. She straightened and blinked one more tear that threatened away with resolution. She would be in one piece tomorrow, and in one piece she would win.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan scanned the crowd nervously, looking for the brown and white curled head, the shining green helmet, but he didn't see her. The drivers, and their accompanying babes, were especially unruly tonight, pepped up with colourful pills and cheap alcohol, hyped by the thrill of the illegal and the anticipation of bloodshed. Damn.

Maybe Marie had come to her senses and decided not to race. He hoped so, and wondered why he cared so much. Well, the prize money was a point. If Marie was here, she had a chance to win. He had watched her twice, and even though he'd never admit it out loud, she had talent. The `prize' he was after even more than that was at stake too. It would be a real pity if her pretty face and perfect young body were maimed today. Yeah, a pity. Right.

He puffed at his cigar as he pushed the bike to the starting line, trying to tell himself he didn't give a shit, and failing. He put on his helmet and threw one more look over his shoulder, when he saw a flash of green and silver left from him, the shining helmet with her name curled on the side, the lithe body encased in green and white, the gloved hand idly playing with the gas handle, making the engine howl and smoke envelope the slim figure.

She was beautiful, and the sight of her rushed into his blood and made his heart thump in his chest.

For a moment, he forgot that he didn't want her there, people, noise, lights, everything faded out into the background as he saw her turn her head and look at him, her eyes still visible behind the opened shield, blazing with heat, the thrill of the roaring bike between her thighs and the road stretched out before her reflected in the smoldering depths of that chocolate brown.

He imagined her straddling him like that, subduing him like the bike she forced her will on with every expert turn of her small, nimble hands on the handle, every squeeze of her slender thighs on the humming, vibrating leather seat beneath her, her eyes glowing like the charcoal that he knew burned inside her, and the image made him wonder if sometimes, losing wasn't better than winning.

Only when someone bumped into him, yelling loudly and shoving him by the shoulder did he snap from his trance. He briefly considered walking over to her and pull her off the motorcycle and get the hell away from this race, but then she turned away from him and slammed down the shield of her helmet. Her eyes fixed on the street, while she leaned forward until her breasts almost brushed the tank, her body tightening until she was coiled and taut, and he knew that there was no going back for them now, not with the heat and the smoke and the rush that was washing over her, over him, and could only be calmed on the street, while the rubber of the tires burned off on the asphalt and one felt like flying.

There were no more words. There were just their machines, and the street. Destiny would decide if there would be any more words afterwards, or the slick heat of their sweat would be washed away with blood, and tears.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Speed. Red, white, red, white, as the lights appear and disappear in front, behind her. Speed. Gray and black, beneath, around her. No sound. Nothing. Just the roads, the lights. Speed.

Heat and drumming, rhythmic, steady, and she doesn't know if it's her bike or her heart that is roaring in her ears, vibrating through her body, and it doesn't matter, because all there is is speed, and the lights, and the street, and all is one, melted, molded into one another, her body, her bike, the street, and she doesn't know where one stops and the other begins, just that she's flying, shooting, racing through the darkness, and at the moment, she *is* light�speed.

Green and silver, a flash in the night, and she laughs, only that there is no noise, everything is swallowed by the rush, the wind, but the bubbling inside her is there, swelling until she feels like she might burst, finally, at last, unrestrained, free and piercing, like a cry that is loud enough to break the sound barrier, and only now does she really feel pure and cleansed of all cries she might have swallowed, all the pain that churned inside her. Speed. Light.

Her grin is uninhibited as she turns the handle, and they both howl in unison as she disappears down the dark road.
 

Not far behind, he grins ferally as he mimics her actions, bringing his hard, metal-heavy body into that state where he feels light, hot, like the bones inside his body that aren't strictly bones are molten and running into a thousand different directions, in little shining drops, and ironically only now, when he's so taut and coiled that his body aches, he is completely relaxed.

The night and the lights and the speed envelop him too, like her, only he doesn't only feel the thrill of the ride�the thing that gets to him best is the hunt, the silvery trace that his prey leaves, shining and flickering in the night, the faint spicy scent of her on the crisp wind, the smell of adrenaline and arousal. He growls as he sees the dancing lights get closer, the faint hum grow stronger. He's gonna catch her.

But there's not only her. There's another. Red and black, the scent greasy, dirty�a male. Competition. The male is getting closer to her, to his prey, the machines rolling and trembling as they meet, a blur of lights and howling, and they don't give up that easily, no, each of them wants to win. Speed, light, and the dark road disappears beneath them, still fighting for predominance�speed, light, hitching breaths and heartbeats, drumming, drumming, quicker, faster�

And then they clash, screeching like wounded animals in a fight for their life, shining, glittering metal flying into the air, cutting through smoke, dust, sparks and flames, into skin and leather, and he thinks he hears her scream, as he screams.

"Marie!"

Lights, speed, the humming, drumming disappears into the night, and what stays behind is darkness, with a laugh lingering on the wind while the other disappears in a cloud of smoke, leaving the lifeless body in the dust.

The thrill of the hunt tastes like ashes in his mouth. It probably is ashes, the remnants of metal, fuel, oil, leather, mixing with the wind that stings in his eyes now, rather than clearing him up. He drops down next to her and touches her face, neck, searching for a pulse, and she is cold, or is that just because the fire around them is so hot? For a moment, he feels nothing. Then it is there. Drumming, drumming, strong and steady beneath her skin, and in the same split second, he feels the pull, and darkness embraces him.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan woke up to the not-unpleasant feeling of soft hands moving over his forehead, smoothing his hair away from the sweaty skin, soft, gloved, small hands. He sniffed experimentally, and heard a soft chuckle. Marie. How had she�She had crashed�she should be dead. What�?

"Hey. Do you hear me?"
Logan carefully opened his eyes, finding himself mere inches from her, hovering over him with a concerned expression. "Are you OK? God, I was so worried."

He groaned as he shifted, feeling a lingering ache, his limbs heavy like lead.
"What happened?"

She sighed, her eyes suddenly turning sorrowful, repentant. "It was an accident."

"I know. You crashed. How could you�" He tried to sit up, but she gently pushed him back. He shifted again, and only now noticed that he was lying on a blanket, in a truck, judging from the smell, his own truck. But that had been miles away. How had she�?

He regarded her silently, and noticed that she was wearing one of his shirts over her burned and torn leather outfit. So they *were* in his truck. Marie sighed again. "No. I mean me hurting you. The crash was just�"
She shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. "Just a little bump. Blacked out for a couple seconds. Nothing bad."

"Nothing bad?" He did sit up this time, his anger assisting him in making his rebelling limbs cooperate. "Hell, girl, your bike blew up! You fucking landed on you head when you hit the asphalt. Nothing bad?" He shook his head in exasperation. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm tough." She moved back a little, sitting on her heels and eyeing him warily. "I'm sorry for hurting you. It was an accident. I should probably go now."

She shifted to reach for the door handle, but he stopped her with an iron grip on her arm. "What's going on here, Marie? How exactly did you hurt me? How the fuck did you walk out there without so much as a scratch?"

She sighed again, moving back to face him squarely. "I'm a mutant. I suck people's life out with my skin. Works with mutant powers too. I can't control it, not one bit." She looked sad at that, but tried to hide bravely behind a smile. "That's how I hurt you. I'm so glad you are OK." She did look relieved at that, and he wondered how many people she had seen *not* recover from her touch to make a look of such utter gratitude light up her face. This was an awful mutation, and he could do nothing but admire her for how she still carried herself through a life like that, isolated, untouchable. Not unlike himself�Her voice shook him out of his reverie.

"About not being injured�" She looked away, and he knew that the hard part must still be coming. "I absorbed two mutants along the way. Killed them, to be precise. Now I'm stuck with their powers for good." A short, hard laugh accompanied the words, one that made all too clear that she didn't find this funny, not at all. "One had invulnerability, super strength, and the ability to fly. That's how I got you here." She gestured at the truck, then dropped her hand into her lap and started nervously fumbling with her glove. "The other�he had enhanced senses, and healed."

Healed? "He healed?" She nodded and shot him an apologetic smile.

"I know this probably doesn't sound very convincing. I'd understand if you didn't want to be near me now. I'll just go. Sorry."

Again she moved to the door, and again, he stopped her. "Healed?" He waited for her nod, to be sure, because this was unbelievable. Could this tiny girl really have killed Victor? "He wasn't, by any chance, a tall furry guy with fangs and claws? Went by the name of Sabretooth?" The shocked expression in her face spoke volumes. So it was true�Sabretooth was dead�and by the hand of a slip of a girl. But it made sense. She had knocked him flat on his ass, too, and he had just hung on to her skin for split seconds. There were not many people who had achieved that much.

He snickered quietly, until he saw her face, all confusion�and caution. A movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he saw that she was slowly removing her glove.

"You knew him?"

He hadn't heard her sound just like this yet, cool and detached, and the hard look in her eye confirmed that now, he was speaking to the one called Rogue, not Marie. Once again, he had to give her credit for her courage. "Yeah." He chose his words slowly, deliberately, all the while looking into her eyes and keeping his gaze level to show her he was telling the truth. "Tried to kill him myself a couple times, as a matter of fact."

She just looked at him for a few seconds, her gaze somehow drawn inward, searching, contemplating, then she relaxed a little. "Yeah. I can see it."

"See it?" He furrowed his brow.

"Yes. I get the feelings and memories from people I touch, too." Her face turned apologetic, and she pulled the glove back on. "Sorry. I won't go and dig in your personal stuff. I'll just keep a lid on it, OK? No digging. And I won't hurt you." She shot a glance at her gloved hands. "I know this stuff about lethal skin can be pretty freaky. I'll just go now, OK?"

"Nah." That gave her pause, and he flashed her a half-grin for good measure. "Not all that upsetting when you're used to those." With a *snikt* he released the claws from his hands, and the six adamantium blades shimmered in the dim light of the truck. He cocked an eyebrow as he regarded her silently, waiting for her reaction, but for a few seconds, she just stared, wide-eyed, surprised, and curious. Then she tentatively reached out a finger and ran it along the blunt side of one blade.

Logan flinched back as she touched the metal, sending shivers down his back and right into his groin. No one had ever touched the claws. Not many people had even seen the claws and lived. He shot her a look, wary, hesitant, but also giving away his excitement, and she met his eyes questioningly, and as she didn't see any resentment, only need, she gave a small smile and ran her finger up the blade to his knuckle and back. He bit his lip to keep from groaning. "Careful."

"Invulnerable, remember?" She gave him a wink and he snorted, snapping the claws back in and catching her curious glance as she looked at his knuckles. "I knew you healed, too, and that there was something about your hands�but it's all not very clear."

"The claws are an added bonus. Government experiments." Only the thought about brought images to his mind he didn't want to dwell on right now, and he tried to lighten his tone, just convey information, not the endless narrative of his life. "As far as I know, I have about the same powers that Victor�Sabretooth had. Y'know, without the foul breath, the fur and the fangs. And I'm not like him in the personality department. Insanity, and whatnot." He grinned at her and her eyes glimmered playfully in return.

"Really? All I see is two chauvinist bikers with a lot of hair. Not that many differences." Her eyes sparkled, and he gave a mock growl, which made her gasp and then burst into a fit of giggles.

"Run, woman." He gave another growl to emphasize his point, which only made her laugh harder. "Whoever is last at the diner across the street buys dinner."

__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Thanks for the food. And let me emphasize again," Marie winked at the man walking next to her, "that I reached that door first."

He gave her a snort. "Just because I let you win."

"Not true!" she countered indignantly. "I beat you and you know it."

He snickered at her scowling face. "You could never beat me if I didn't let you."

The scowl changed into a sad grimace. "And now I can't even try." She heaved a sigh. Everything had been futile. Her bike was wrecked, and now she could start all over again.

She shook her head, deciding that pining on it wouldn't make the situation any better. Tomorrow, she'd start worrying about the future, map out a plan for what to do, but tonight, she was too beat to agonize. They stepped up the porch to Logan's room, and he fumbled for the keys while she mused if going to his motel with him had been a good idea.

True, it had been closer than her place. She grimaced. Logan's offer to just go here had been sensible, and she understood that after all the crashing, life-draining, revelations and other unpleasant experiences tonight talking things over wasn't a bad idea. And getting to know someone whose powers were similar to hers made her curious. Still, she wondered what would come of this.

Surely he wouldn't try anything now that he knew about her skin. And the deal they had made was off too, so there was nothing to worry about, she told herself. `Just how you're gonna fix your horniness,' Carol piped in, and Rogue didn't even bother to answer. She just shoved the woman down again and stepped into the room. It was plain, but at least warm, and clean. Speaking of which� "I could use a shower. Wash off the crash."

He nodded and cocked his head in the direction of the bathroom, suddenly grinning in a way that spoke volumes while simultaneously undressing her with his eyes. "Maybe I could�"

"Don't even think about it," she interrupted hastily, and a little edgy. If he was kidding, this wasn't funny, and if not, she wanted to stop thinking about it before the offer could seem too attractive. She turned and retreated into the bathroom. Slipping out of his greasy shirt and tearing off the remnants of her overall, she stuck her head out of the door again in order to ask him for some clothes, just in time to see him adjust himself through his suddenly very tight jeans.

Surprised, and more smug than she liked being, she grinned at him, and could have sworn that he blushed. "I wondered if you�" She didn't know what made her stretch the pause so deliberately, flirtingly, but noted with a kind of vain female satisfaction that was strange to her, that his eyebrow shot up in anticipation. "�could give me some clothes."

"Damn you, woman." He growled at her, and she smiled contentedly before she could catch herself. Carol's sexual libido was definitely becoming a problem. Right. Carol's. There was no way these feelings were hers. She had never felt this way, about no one. A pair of black sweats and a flannel shirt came flying her way, and she caught both and disappeared back into the bathroom with a sassy

"Thanks."

She could have sworn that she heard him curse when she closed the door. This evening was going to be fun.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Marie stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, and dropped her shredded overall to the floor unceremoniously. "Dammit, that overall was expensive. And it lasted all of two days." She gave the scraps of leather a kick which made her breasts bounce beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Her eyes twinkled as she looked up and saw where exactly his eyes were fixed. "Stop it, horny bastard."

He gave her a heated look, but got up and tried to ban all his fantasies about Marie from his mind�for now. She had already turned him down, and as much as he wanted her, the Wolverine never begged. No, he thought with a wry smile as he opened the fridge to retrieve two bottles of beer, if she changed her mind, she'd have to ask *him*. And then he'd let *her* beg.

Still, the scent of her, clean and fresh, mingled with the smell of him from his shirt, made it damn hard to keep his thoughts at bay. He gave the refrigerator door a kick and silently vowed to himself that she'd have to beg. She'd have to beg. She'd have to�

__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Thanks for the clothes. At least my gloves are still OK." Thank God she always wore a thinner pair beneath the bike gloves. If she'd have to go bare-handed now, she'd feel naked and nervous. And nervous naked thoughts about Logan wouldn't lead to anything good, `or maybe to something too good', Carol added with a snicker, while they were sitting close to each other on the steps of the porch like this, and he was looking good and smelling sexy. She shivered.

"Cold?" She grinned. Deep down, he kinda was a gentleman.

"No, I'm OK." He shrugged out of his jacket anyway, and draped it over her shoulders.

"There."

She protested. "Really, it's fine. You'll get cold."

"Nah, I'm warm." If the heat in his eyes was any indication, he really didn't need the jacket. "Besides, I heal."

"Me too," she reminded him. Odd, she hadn't thought that she'd ever find anyone who could sympathise about her mutation, know what it was like. It was nice. Comforting. He seemed to feel the same way, looking at her intently as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't really make himself, and after a few seconds, his gaze became unnerving. Hastily, she changed topics. "Won't be able to put the healing to the test any more though. My bike is wrecked." She huffed in frustration.

"Yeah." Logan actually looked sympathetic, and she decided to believe that he really was, and flashed him a smile. He had actually been decent tonight, nice, even. She still didn't know what had prompted her to stay while he was unconscious, and share her story with him afterwards, but it seemed as if it had been the right choice. It felt so good to finally let her guard about her skin down a little, trust someone to be careful.

Trust. She sipped on her bottle again as she stared into the night, the man next to her falling into companionable silence, as if he was sensing her mood. Surprising. But a lot about the last couple of days, about Logan, was surprising. And her reaction to him even more. Trust. Yes, she did trust him, first with her name, then with her story and now with her skin. Somehow her heart had made that decision without consulting reason first, and she felt a little as if balancing along the abyss.

This man could have been a mutant-hating fanatic, or just a psycho, like Sabretooth had been. She had been lucky�and not. Somehow she had *known* that he was different, and she wondered why, and how. She hadn't gotten much of him when he touched her, just bits and pieces, mostly the foremost thoughts, the thrill from the race, the shock that she had crashed.

He really had been worried about her. She glanced at him and saw him watching her intently, his body half-turned towards her, casually leaning against the railing, his sexy, glittering hazel eyes absorbing her. Again, she sighed.
"Looks like this is the end of our deal then, too."

"I guess." He calmly replied, and she was almost disappointed that there wasn't more regret in his voice, that he didn't seem more concerned. "Maybe it's better that way."

She actually started at that, then immediately chastised herself. Of course, he had just been kidding when he still signalled he wanted her, after the crash. It was a game of teasing and flirting, nothing more. But now he knew about her mutation, and that surely changed things. And if he was cool and aloof, she would be too. Anyway, she couldn't keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice. "Yeah. Sure. Poison skin isn't exactly a turn-on."

"Not what I meant." She looked at him with surprise. "You're not the only one with a freaky mutation here, darling. Trust the guy with the metal skeleton." He quirked an eyebrow as he continued. "But if we'd gone through with this tomorrow, one of us would've come out the loser, and as much as I hate losing myself," his smile turned into a full-fledged grin, "I wouldn't have wanted to see you quit racing either, because honey, you've got talent." She gaped at him incredulously, unable to believe that he'd actually said it. "Not that I'd admit that to anyone out loud."

Her mouth opened and closed for a few times before she could get her voice to cooperate. "Thanks." He looked at her with amusement as she struggled to return a compliment. "And you're not as big an asshole as I thought."

He laughed out loud at that, and she regarded him for a few seconds, head thrown back, eyes lighting up with mirth, the deep rumbling laughter bubbling up from his chest, before she joined him with giggles of her own.
"Honey, if you weren't just a girl, I'd kick your ass now."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, challenging him with her eyes. "Just a girl?"

"Yeah, *baby*. Just a tiny girl who can't drive a bike if her life depends on it." He met her smoldering gaze and jumped up, taunting her with his snickering, playfully raising his fists and cocking an eyebrow at her.

She jumped off the porch too, setting her bottle down and advancing on him with a scowl."Take it back."

"No."

"Take it *back*."

"No, baby."

That was it. She jumped at him, shoving him to the ground and landing on top of him with her hands at his wrists.
"Yield?"

"To a girl? Never." He growled at her and rolled her around, struggling to keep her on her back, but she pushed him off of her easily, using Carol's super strength until he was on his back again, still grinning up at her, struggling, rolling her around, back and forth, until they were both out of breath, dirty and sweaty.

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he gazed down from his position straddling her, and she giggled through her gasps. "Truce."

He let go of her wrists, but didn't get up. "I could still kick your ass." He leaned down and brushed a smudge away from her cheek. She noticed that he was still gloved, and that, added to his entrancing eyes, the heat that seemed to burn right into her, made her body heave with another kind of excitement. "Not now though." His face was only inches from hers, his voice a raspy whisper, his warm breath brushing the skin of her cheek, her lips.

Her heart sped up, making the warmth in her veins pound through her body and pool between her thighs in a wave of wet heat. She saw his nostrils flare and remembered that he could smell her, would know what she tried so hard to conceal, from him and from herself. She wanted him.

His eyes darkened, and in response to hers, she could sense his body react to the tight way they were still pressed together, to the heat and the lust and the thrill that was pounding inside her, and she knew was showing in her eyes as much as his. "I'd really like to kiss you now." If it hadn't been for the powers that weren't her own, she wouldn't have caught the low growl with which he'd said it, but as it was, her back arched into him as if of its own volition, her thighs clenched around the leg that had slipped between hers, and she couldn't help the moan that tore from her lips, both with frustration and arousal at the state she was in, they were in.

"Logan�" She didn't know what exactly she wanted him to do, nor if it was a good idea to plead like this, breathy and needy, all she knew was that she couldn't stop, and didn't want to. `And if you did, I swear to God, girl, I'd slit your � our throat the next chance I get.'

`Shut up, Carol.'

"Yeah, baby. Tell me." She fleetingly noted with satisfaction that his voice was equally strangled with need, and that he was as uncomfortably aroused as she was. But when he ground his knee into her crotch, rubbing and teasing, all thought left her, and she let out an unabashed groan.

Only with a lot of effort could she pry open her eyes to look at him hovering above her, convey the words she wanted to say. "Let's do it."

He cocked an eyebrow and regarded her sceptically. "Sure?" The content and tone of the word was at odds with the fire in his eyes, the way his body still rocked into hers, and she realized how much effort he must be putting into it, and if she had had any more trepidation, it melted away now. "You know you don't have to do this."

"I know. No deal. No promises." She lifted her hips to rub up against him deliberately, holding his darkening gaze as she whispered into his ear, dangerous scant inches away from him. "I want you." A smile curled her lips as the relief that came with admitting the truth washed over her. "I'll even let you be on top."

He clenched his eyes shut, a low growl escaping his lips as he scrambled to his feet and yanked her up by her arm. "Let's go."

__________________________________________________________________________________________

He locked the door behind them, then turned around and approached the bed where she had sat down. She looked up at him, desire pooling in those big brown eyes while she dropped her slender hands to the buttons of his shirt that she was wearing, slowly pushing the buttons from the holes until her long, slender neck was revealed, the smooth, porcelain skin of her neckline, the swell of her breasts. The flannel slid off her shoulders and curled around her hips on the bed, and just the sight of her naked breasts made him more aroused than anything ever had before. Her eyes never left his as her hands sensually skimmed down her body over the slightly pink flushed skin which had come out of the fire so amazingly unharmed.

Logan had never thought about his mutation much. It had just been with him all the time he could remember. But as he gazed at her flawless, lithe body now, he couldn't stop roaming her with amazement, silently thanking the Gods that there had been an upside to her awful, isolating mutation after all, that she could sit here, in front of him, smiling so seductively, the perfect little thing that she was. His knowledge about her powerful mutation, or her fiery temper didn't make her look any less fragile, and precious, and he wondered how he'd come to actually have her here, in his life.

He reached out and brushed a lock away from her forehead, careful not to touch her, and he saw her eyes soften as she pressed her cheek into his sweater-covered arm. "Lie back," he commanded, and she obeyed with a smile. He retrieved a soft, cotton piece of cloth from his bag, which he had actually bought to polish his bike with, and chuckled as he considered Marie telling just that.

"What?" she asked, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was just a little bit husky.

"Nothing," he answered, propping himself up on his elbow as he stretched out next to her, watching the woman beneath him for a few minutes, enjoying that he really had her where he had wanted her, right from the beginning, and not because of a deal, but because she desired him. The idea made it about a thousand times sweeter.

He wondered why it had never occurred to him that while having a woman surrender to him felt good, having her surrender after she had put up a fight, and actually let him meet his match, was a thousand times more enticing. This was why he had wanted Marie from the first second, why the thought of her had haunted his every second, awake and sleeping. She was his match�his mate.

A woman whose name he actually knew, who he had actually talked to before dragging her off to his room, who he could actually regard as equal, who he actually liked, was more than he had ever had before. But this was even more. He had known it when he had looked at her, breathed her in for the first time, and the way their mutations complemented each other, his adamantium-enhanced body, her artificially acquired strength, the healing, the prospect of living a long, lonely life, if it wasn't for the other, only made it seem more fitting.

They belonged together, even if he still had cold feet, and even if they hadn't known each other longer than two days. Now it was only up to him to make her feel that way, too.

As he hovered over her, studying her features so intently, Marie couldn't help wondering what he saw in her, and if it was anything close to what she saw in him. The desire he had evoked inside her, against all resolution, completely overwhelming her, was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she felt a little frivolous.
It was a good feeling though.

His gaze wandered down her face, locking on her lips. Unconsciously, she traced her tongue across her full mouth, and he groaned softly in response, leaning in closer until he was almost touching her, almost kissing, and the mere thought made her mind swim with desire and her breath hitch in her throat.

His warm breath traced her cheek while he just stared down on her, obviously as entranced as she was, as unable to move back and break the connection that was there even though they weren't touching, and could never touch.

"God, Marie, I want you bad." His voice was a raspy whisper on his breath, tinged with a little smoke, a little alcohol, and a lot of him that made her warm and breathy when she answered the one thing that was on her mind.

"Let's do this Logan. Please." His lips curled into a smile as he nodded, and suddenly leaned down, licking her lower lip, tasting the remnants of her slick tongue, before he pulled back too quickly for her skin to react. The gesture both startled and soothed her, and even more, it raised a need for more that she didn't think would be satisfied any time soon.

He slowly draped a piece of thin cotton over the lower half of her face and smothered it down over her lips. Her tongue darted out to moisten the thin barrier as she caught up to what he was intending, and she had only a few seconds to dwell on the impossibility of a closer touch before his tongue traced hers through the cloth and time for thinking was over.

There had been a lot of times for Marie to dream about making love, and for Rogue to fantasize about fucking, but neither had ever thought much about kissing, mostly because she had never thought it possible to *really* kiss, without having skin contact. But what she was experiencing now held no regret, no longing for something more profound, more direct. It was perfect the way it was, *because* it was the way it was.

When he broke from her, she drew her lips into a pout, unwilling to stop kissing just yet, unable to believe that anything else was going to be better, but before she could say anything, he had dragged the cloth down her throat, leaving a wet trail that felt as if his tongue had been tracing the way little drops of sweat rolled down into the hollow at the base, and she shivered. He grinned, cocking an eyebrow at her, and she wanted to smack him for his smugness, but then he swooped down and wrapped his lips around her left nipple, so that instead, her hand dropped back to the mattress from mid-air and she cried out in pleasure.

His mouth was hot and wet and so good that she felt like she was about to burst, starting at the point where his tongue summoned a pulsating ache in her breast. She arched into him, silently asking for more, and didn't have to wait long until he obliged. He nuzzled her for a while, sucking, biting down on first the left, then the right nipple, mimicking his actions on the other breast with his fingers. It felt like heaven.

Again, she was startled when he pulled away, breathing heavily and with glazed eyes. Before she could protest, though, his hand skimmed down her taut stomach, tracing the waistband of her sweatpants, then hooking his fingers beneath it and pulling the sweats off in one swift motion, leaving her only in a tiny scrap of red fabric.
He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you call that panties, nowadays?"

"Complaints?" she breathed, the thought of him reaching out to touch her through those panties, through the wet cotton that she knew was sticking to her folds, not leaving anything beneath it to the imagination almost too much to bear.

"No." Then his hand was finally there, stroking, teasing, running circles around her sensitive spots until she didn't know how she could bear it any more, and then some. She could feel sticky wetness flowing through the thin fabric and down her inner thigh, and as he breathed in deeply, his eyes darkening, she knew that control would soon be overrated.

"Logan." Her voice barely obeyed her, but she dragged herself up to a sitting position and pushed him away. "I want to touch you too."

He nodded, dragging his shirt over his head while she tore open the front of his jeans, revealing his tight, hard chest and jutting erection.
"You don't waste any time, do you?" he chuckled, but she just pushed him on his back with a little help from Carol's powers and studied him hungrily. He looked gorgeous. She let her hands roam his chest in amazement, the crisp hair tickling her through the thin material of her gloves, then dipped lower, down his abdomen, and into the waistband of his pants and boxers, pulling them down to his thighs.

He groaned as she freed him from his restraining clothes, and while she remembered that she had to be careful with both of them exposing so much skin, she couldn't resist to see him spread out naked it front of her. It was an amazing sight. Taut skin over hard muscle, not a flaw anywhere in his tan flesh, the scent of his desire, the smirk that she encountered when she finally pried her gaze from his perfect body, it all added together made her feel light-headed, dizzy with overwhelming lust.

Before she was able to stop herself, she reached out and ran her silky palm up his erection from base to tip. The breath he'd been inhaling hissed out sharply through his teeth as he clenched his eyes shut and his fingers dug into the comforter. His reaction made her cheeks flush and her crotch throb with need at the same time. The degree of power she had over this strong, proud man made her grin triumphantly. She wanted to do it again.

Slowly, and then faster, she pumped her hand up and down his cock, exploring the smooth, hard length with a wicked, pleased grin while he started to thrash and buck beneath her ministrations. Then, struck by a sudden thought, she ceased all movement of her hand, until he growled in protest and opened his eyes. They were dark, darker than she'd ever seen, and positively glowing in a way that sent shivers down her spine. She might be in charge right now, but the fire in those eyes left no question about who would be the aggressor as soon as he chose to. A small part of her still wanted to defy him, but she discovered her need to prove her independence only went so far. Tonight, she wanted to be taken.

The thought sent another wave of arousal shooting through her and wetness spilling down into her panties. "Condom?" she breathed questioningly, surprised about her own voice, pitched and needy.

He started fumbling for his jeans impatiently, then, finding what he was looking for, tore open the small package and was about to roll it on when she took it from him.

"Let me."

His eyes flashed, and he leaned back obligingly while she rolled the rubber slowly, agonizingly slowly, down his hard shaft.

"Marie." His voice was unusually strained too, strangled with need, and she noted with satisfaction that it was also a little bit pleading. Pleased, she leaned down, and, careful not to touch him with her bare skin, licked him from base to tip.Logan violently jerked his hips up against her, pushing himself into her mouth almost to the hilt. The low groans he had let out before were replaced by a constant, vibrating growl as she checked her surprise and pressed her lips down around him, swirling her tongue and bobbing her head simultaneously, like she had seen in all those thoughts that weren't her own and fantasized about ever since. His hand came up to tangle in her hair, pushing her down on him and holding her there as he started a steady rocking of his own that had almost as much to do with dominance as with increasing his pleasure, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, she saw that time for playing was almost over.

He seemed to read the silent submission in her eyes, because the next moment she found herself yanked up and off of him rather roughly, and pushed on her back on the soft comforter. With a loud tearing noise, the red panties were gone and she lay before him fully exposed. His nostrils flared as he breathed in her scent, and she knew that he liked what he saw and smelled and felt when his cock twitched and swelled, making her hand itch to reach out and stroke him.

In an instant, he was off the bed though, grabbing her previously discarded sweats and yanking them on, then shrugged into his flannel shirt. She whimpered at the loss of the sight, even though she knew it was necessary.
"Not fair."

He grinned lopsidedly as he joined her on the bed again, this time fully covered. "I know, baby, but it's either this or stopping. And I don't think I could stop right now."

He swooped down to kiss her through the fabric again, until she was breathless and her lips bruised and swollen from his demanding, passionate mouth.
"And I don't want to stop."

"Good." With a sudden *snikt*, one claw appeared, and it took her a moment to process that he was cutting a hole into the front of the sweats. Within seconds, the shimmering blade retracted again, and he leaned over her, tracing the fingers of the exact same hand that had just been cut and healed again down her cleft and into her wet opening. The sudden feeling of being filled made her breath hitch in her throat and then leave her mouth in small puffs of air. Her hips bucked up against him as if of their own volition while he started pumping his hand in and out, a predatory grin on his face. "So damn wet for me," he whispered, eyes sparkling, and she would've smacked him at any other time, but now she couldn't care less that he was a smug asshole, she wanted him inside her, now.

"Logan�" Whining like this wouldn't have been appropriate at any other time either, but now she just discarded the thought and instead focussed on the building tension in her lower abdomen. "Please�"

He chuckled. "Wanna tell me what you like?"

Inside her, Carol snickered. `Time to spill it, girl.' With a lot of effort, she pried her eyes open. "I don't know. That's what I'm here to find out."

His eyebrow arched high into his forehead as realization hit him, and surprise flickered across his face before he checked himself and nodded. "Alright. Alright, Marie."

Any remaining tension she might have had about him finding out that she was a virgin left her, and she relaxed. He smiled down at her, the movements of his hand slowing down gradually until he withdrew from her completely, then reached up and slowly ran his tongue over his slick fingers. She damn near whimpered. "Tease."

He smirked, slowly lowering himself on top of her until his hard body was completely covering her, and in her whole life, nothing had ever felt better, safer, more *right*. "Don't worry, we're only just getting to the good part." He raised an eyebrow in teasing inquiry. "Are your internal muscles affected by that super strength too?"

She batted her eyelashes playfully. "I don't know. Wanna find out?"

He didn't seem to need more invitation. "You bet." With a swift stroke, he was inside her, and as she finally felt him, hard, hot, deeply embedded in her, she wanted to come on the spot. But before, she wanted to tease him some more.

Logan hovered over her, eyes hooded with a pleasure that reflected her own. He shifted slightly, and groaned as she clenched her muscles around him. With another shift, he thrust in to the hilt, smiling smugly when she couldn't help but moan. "Now's the moment where you may tell me how good I'm making you feel, baby."

"You want me to talk?" she breathed, grinning impishly.

"Yeah. Tell me." He rolled his hips, withdrawing until she had to bite her lip in order not to whimper at the loss, then gave another firm thrust, all the while watching her with that smirk of his that made her both rave with anger and lust.

Her mock grimace brought him back down to earth though, the way she had intended it to. "Ow!" She wrinkled her nose and gave him her best pout. "Careful. I'm not your bike."

He snickered, and his eyes reflected all the warmth that spread out through her entire body from where they were joined. "Marie, shut up."

"Make me," she challenged, with a look to his hot, moist lips. The sultry tone, added to her silent invitation was enough incentive. He swooped down to capture her lips, and all thought of speaking left her.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Heat. Trembling limbs trying to retain control, fighting for control of the other entity. It is like the rush of a good race, the wind tugging at her hair, roughly, softly stroking her skin and making tears seep out of her eyes for the beauty of it, for that amazing feeling of the whole world flying by in a blur of color and shape and sensation.

Their bodies are slick as they clash, burning from the strain and the excitement and the consistent drumming, pounding, inside, and she doesn't know if it's her heart or his or both that is pulsating inside her. And even though they cannot completely melt into each other, not yet, even though there are barriers between their bodies, their minds, this is the closest she is going to get, and she is going to take what she can, and push herself and him to the limit to get more, more, more�

She thinks she is screaming out, the way she can't keep herself from voicing her feelings when she is flying down the road at night, letting go of the handles to lean back and look into the stars, giving herself over to the moment, to destiny completely because only then she can see heaven rush by, seeming to come down to her, accept her into its warmth like a blanket.

He answers in a growl that she can't hear because her blood is rushing through her veins and murmuring in her ears, but she can feel it, the constant vibration that is all over, inside her, and it makes her crazy. It is like a good race.

Only it is a thousand times better.

She can feel it building inside her, tightening and twisting until she thinks she's going to explode, and she knows it's going to be like nothing she has ever experienced, nothing she has ever imagined. Heat, wet, a growl, a scream, tighter, faster, harder, harder, harder� Then she is there. Her eyes snap open, and it *is* like looking into that starry heaven, only that she's looking into his eyes. Her body slackens, loosening, losing control, and she expects the crash that comes with not mastering herself, but then remembers she is in his bed, in his arms, and coming down from this clash will be leisurely, and of that pleasurable mellowness she can already feel spreading
through her body.

She wants to say something, but her blood is still running too fast, her body heaving too much to be able to for words. So she says nothing. She just smiles.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

It was a while before any of them was able to speak, and even then, Logan wasn't sure what to say. This had been an experience that was completely new to him. Never in his life had he had anything that fulfilling. And judging by the little vixen's seductive smile, she was thinking along the same lines. He grinned down at her smiling face, then rolled off of her and gathered her close, wrapped in the bed sheet. For a few more minutes, they were silent, except for their still hitching breaths, while he gathered his thoughts to speak. She beat him to it though. "I don't really know what to say."

He chuckled. "Me neither."

She joined him with her giggles. "It was OK, right?"

He snorted. "More than that. About a million times more."

She giggled, pleased, even though her voice still held a little trepidation. "Even though my skin�"

"Calls for a little creativity, that's all. I don't mind." She propped herself up on her elbow to study his face as he said it, search it for hints of deceit, and finding none, she slumped back on his sheet-covered chest and sighed. In fact, it was almost a purr, he thought with amusement. In her, Sabretooth's traits were actually cute.

"OK." The way her voice sounded, so full of relief, made him wonder if she had ever had any pleasurable experiences about her mutation at all. Everything he had found out about it had been painful, isolating, putting a responsibility and guilt on her for things she wasn't to blame for, that she shouldn't have to face. Another similarity between them, he thought.

They were both silent for a couple of minutes before he spoke, pensively. "Marie? You said you got people's feelings and memories." She nodded. "So you got Sabretooth's too?"

She looked away, and he felt that she shivered before she braced herself and nodded. "I didn't mean when I said you weren't different than him. You are."

He looked down at her, and the thought about what exactly Victor had done to this woman that made her avoid his eyes, strangle her voice like that, reduce the strong, confident Rogue to this little shivering girl, made his blood boil. And he knew all to well� "Tell me what happened."

She glanced at him hesitantly, and he scooted a little closer to her, wrapping his arm around her, and after another moment's trepidation, she laid her head on his chest again. "He was after me for some kind of secret government agency, I think. Didn't get much of his memories on that, and I don't think he even knew much. I don't really know what they wanted with me, but I guess�"

Her voice trailed off and he prompted her to go on with a small squeeze to her shoulder. "I guess they had somehow found out that I had absorbed Carol. She was known to be a mutant, and strong. They wanted�I think they wanted to study my powers."

Logan froze as her story hit a little too close to home. "Like� experimentation? In a lab?" He felt her nod against his chest at about the same time that he noticed the tang of tears on the air, and a wet spot appearing in the sheet on his chest where she had buried her face. "What then?" he asked quietly.

"He�he used some kind of drug on me, to suppress my powers. I couldn't use Carol's strength, or my skin. I tried to fight him off, but he�he seemed to be enjoying that I was screaming and resisting. He beat me up pretty bad."
The sniffles increased, and Logan felt his blood boil. "He had me in a dark, stinking truck, and he drove on and on, for days, and only stopped to beat me up more." She tried to gain back her composure, and after a few more sniffles, wiped at her face and continued. "After a while, the drugs wore off. I think he didn't expect it so soon, because he was pretty careless. I touched him. I hung on until he was drained, and twitching on the ground at my feet."

He hadn't heard her voice like this yet, full of hatred and violent anger, and he hoped never to hear it again.

"When he was dead, I ran. He was in my head, and I knew that more of them were close by, and I made it into the forest and stayed there until I had control over my mind."

"He controlled your thoughts?"

"I only got a little of his thoughts and memories, and even that wasn't very clear. Mostly it was just�" she paused, struggling to get out the words, and Logan wondered how she could still be so good about this, being able to put in words something that was so terrible. She really had to have a hell of a lot of strength. "Hatred. Insane hatred."

"Shit." He didn't trust himself to say more without completely losing it.

She sighed. "Yeah. But Carol helped me keep him out, mostly."

"So she's still up there?"

"Yeah." Suddenly she grinned through her tears. "And she has the hots for you."

"Sure you're not confusing her thoughts with your own, darling?" His tone was light and teasing, trying to ease the gloom her story had evoked, and it didn't fail to lighten her mood a little and relax her.

"Nah. I don't like you much, actually." She wiped at her cheeks with her gloved hands. "And she's pretty content right now that she got me in your bed like she wanted." He smirked, knowing as well as Marie that she wasn't exactly honest, and very pleased about it. "She hasn't been that satisfied since I have her in my head."

He sobered as he contemplated if asking her about the woman would make things worse, but decided that once they were at it, everything might as well be in the open. "What happened with her?" He prayed that that story wasn't even worse than before.

Marie still sniffled, but seemed to have regained her composure. "That was fun, compared to Sabretooth. Driving
competition. Carol was the best female driver around, and I was a newbie. But she didn't like other women intruding on her turf. She attacked me. I had to defend myself."

She sounded defiant, but resolute, and he admired her strength on this point. She had learned her street smarts the hard way, but she made the best of it. Logan had to respect everyone who had no illusions about what was necessary, and when. Most people lacked that, or tried to evade what they didn't like. But Marie was tough. And straightforward.

"And you won." With more than a little surprise, he noticed that his voice held a healthy dose of pride, and Marie apparently caught up to it too.

"Yeah." She rolled to her side to face him, and smiled. "Speaking of which, have you never met her? She toured the racing circle for quite some time. Went by the pseudonym of Ms. Marvel."

"Ms. Marvel?" Logan dimly recalled a busty blonde with piercing green eyes. "Yeah. Met her. Bitch."

Marie's smile turned into an amused grin. "Pretty much, yes." Her gaze turned inward, he noticed, and after a few seconds she addressed him with a wink. "She says she doesn't like you either."

He laughed out loud at that, and was soon joined by her. Her glittering eyes met his, and he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled into him, her body still heaving with laughter, and for a few minutes, he just enjoyed the feeling of her pressed tightly into his side.

They fell into comfortable silence again, and he could feel the tension that had had her body coiled while she was narrating leave her while she ran her gloved hands through the hair on his chest. After a few minutes though, she spoke pensively. "What about you? You said the metal in your body was some kind of� experiment�" Her voice trailed off as he tensed noticeably. "You don't have to tell me about it if�"

"No. Fair's fair." After all she had shared with him, he couldn't hold this back, and somehow, he didn't want to either. No one had ever heard this story, no one ever shared the burden of his awful past. She was sharing a bed with him, at least for now, where he was concerned, for longer, too, and she had a right to know, and then decide if she wanted to get up and leave. After what she'd just told him, it was quite possible that she'd do just that. "Basically, you already know the whole story."

She gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, bracing himself for the hard truth. For a moment, the wide-eyed trust in her beautiful chocolate eyes made him want to draw back, invent something, anything than what was true, but when she gave him an encouraging smile, everything just popped loose. "I was a killer, like Sabretooth. I worked for the government. They drugged me, and I captured mutants, girls like you, children, men, sometimes even humans, to experiment on. I was insane, and cruel, and mindless like an animal, and I hate myself for it."

The confession shocked him almost as much as her. She gasped, and drew back to look into his eyes, searching for hints that this wasn't true, but didn't find any.
"Oh God." She sat up, scooting away from him as far as the bed would allow, and he reached out to her, desperate to make the pain in her eyes go away, but she evaded his grasp. "Just�just give me a few minutes, OK?"

"Marie, I'm�I'm sorry. I wish I could undo it all, I wish none of this had ever happened to you, but I can't do anything about it." He sighed wearily. He had told himself that so many times, but sitting here now, seeing how much Marie was still hurt by what she'd gone through, made the sentence seem so empty, meaningless. He really had no excuse, and he knew it. Still, he hoped that there was still a chance to make it up, maybe, if he couldn't change it, help her heal the wounds that the man that could have been him had torn. "I swear to God, Marie, you're safe now. I'd never hurt you. And I won't let anyone hurt you either."

"How can you be so sure?" Her voice held less anger than sadness, and she looked like she was about to cry. Seeing her like this, so different from her usual self, tore at him, made him want to make it all better like he had never wanted anything before.

But he couldn't. This was his punishment, and the worst thing was, he deserved every bit of it. All he could do now, was assure her. Take away the fear of the future that the pain of the past had induced. "Because I remember waking up in the snow torn up and beat up so bad that even I couldn't move for two days until I was healed. Because I remember living without my memory, without a life, without anything. Because I have been desperate to discover who I am, and when I found out wished I never had. Because I have hated myself, my life, my sole existence for a long time, tried to kill myself a thousand times before I finally accepted that I'd have to live with that guilt."

The words were spoken earnestly, gravely, but without pathos or apology, and her eyes cleared up and focussed on his, searching for the sincerity he hoped she would see.Finally, she spoke, slowly. "Wouldn't it be easier to go back to that life? Without qualms about anything or anyone?"

"Maybe," he answered honestly. "But I don't wanna be that." She looked at him for a long time, completely still, completely silent, and he gave her the space he needed, hoping that he had made her understand, at least a little.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to him, she spoke. "I wanna believe you so much. I wanna believe that people can realize what they did was wrong, and make amends. But I don't know if I can. I've been without hope for so long."

The matter-of-fact way she said it made him desperate to prove her wrong, show himself, who had never considered anyone his match, worthy to her. He wanted to plead, to explain, to apologize, but words left him. He could never say anything that would make up what she had gone through, or convey how he felt. All he could ask for was a way to prove with actions. So he simply said "Give me a chance, and I will take care of you."

She shrugged. "You know I don't really need anyone to take care of me now."

"Yeah. But please Marie, just let me, not because you need it, but because you *want* it." He knew that he was no hero who she could worship, and that she was no little girl who needed his help. That was what made this a thousand times more important, and more meaningful. "I will take care of you," he repeated.

She looked at him, and slowly, he saw a small smile spread across her face. "You promise?"

He couldn't help but smile back in return. "Yeah. I promise." She scooted back closer to him, and he received her warmth thankfully. He hadn't known how much he needed this until he had met her. "Thank you," he added quietly.

"Don't." She sighed. "It's not as if I was completely without guilt either. I've killed people too. I didn't mean to, but."

"Me neither." It wasn't exactly true, not in the sense that she meant, but he hadn't been himself, hadn't been able to control it any more than she could control her skin.

"I wish I could go back and change it all," she whispered.

"You had no choice," he replied evenly.

"Neither had you. That doesn't make it any better though."

"No, I guess it doesn't." They fell silent for a while, until he had gathered his thoughts to speak, in spite of his trepidation. "Can't help wondering what would have happened if we had met like that. Like you met with Sabretooth."

She gave him a soft look, even though her voice was hard like steel. "I would've had to kill you."

He regarded her silently, then nodded. "Good." He grasped her hand and squeezed it. "It might not be right, but, whatever happens, Marie, never stop thinking like that. Never feel guilty about what you have to do. You did what was necessary to survive. And I'm glad you did, because otherwise we'd never have met."

"Yeah." Her gaze turned warm, and he knew that they would be OK, for now. "Kiss me."

Relief washed over him as he realized that he indeed was forgiven, and if she, who had been through a hell similar to what he'd inflicted, could forgive him, maybe he could, too. He leaned down to capture her lips, and after that, no more words were needed.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Day 3:

The first dim rays of light filtered through the curtain right into Marie's face. She stirred, but didn't open her eyes, determined to enjoy the warmth of this bed and its other occupant as long as she could. She smiled to herself as she thought about last night. They had talked about good things and bad things, but what mattered more than the words themselves was the understanding they had come to. There were so many similarities between them, dark spots and bright spot in their lives, and maybe, just maybe, the chance they had given themselves would work out.

And of course, there had been the sex. Her smile turned into a grin as she thought about that particular part. Not that she'd ever boost his ego by saying it, but Logan really was an amazing lover. Speaking of whom�she reached out to the other side of the bed, still refusing to open her eyes, and groped for him, but after a few moments, she realized that he wasn't there.

Disappointed, she opened her eyes. His side of the bed was deserted, and she could hear noise from the bathroom. Her full lips curved into a pout. He could at least have stayed until she was up. Where was he headed so urgently that he couldn't�She started upright as she remembered the accident, her wrecked bike, and the race. The race she wouldn't be able to attend. Of course he was getting ready for that, of course that was more important than snuggling here with her�the competitor.

She banished the fact that she, in his place, would have been equally anxious to get ready, and that she was being bitter, after all, it wasn't his fault that she wouldn't be able to drive. Any way, her good spirits dissipated and made way for grumpy jealousy. Logan chose that exact moment to step out of the bathroom. "Hey."

"Hey," she retorted, slumping back into the pillows, not wanting to look at him as he zipped up his race outfit over his tan skin.

He stepped closer to the bed while he ran his hands through his wet hair. "Something wrong?"

"No, of course not. What could be wrong with a driver who has no bike to drive?" she answered with more than a little heat.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to her, but she drew back stubbornly. "I'm sorry, Marie."

"Yeah, sure." She couldn't help being sarcastic. She had hoped for this too much, worked for this too hard to be consoled by those words, or any words. As she saw his face though, she checked herself. She knew that he was serious. "Sorry. I'm just�this is so unfair."

"Yeah. Sucks." That pretty much summed it up, she thought with a snort. "You still are coming though?"

"Yeah. Whatever." She sighed, getting up to go to the bathroom for a quick shower. It would hurt, but she couldn't bear to not watch the race, watch Logan. "I'll just be a minute."

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Marie looked around uncomfortably as they neared the track, shuffling her feet. "What is it, darling?"

She shrugged, her full lips curving into a full-fledged pout. "I don't like this. Everyone thinks I'm your groupie."

He smiled wryly, trying to lighten up her mood. "You *are* my groupie, baby."

Her pout turned into a dark scowl. "I'm no one's groupie. I'm a driver." She huffed in frustration, and he could do nothing but admire her, the effort she had put into coming this far, the obstacles she had mastered, the perseverance she still showed, even though standing here must be making her crazy.

"I know. You know. Who cares what the others think?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek.

"Me." She looked every bit as defiant as she sounded, and he couldn't help grinning, which earned him a smack.

"Attention please. All drivers come to the starting line now, please. Race starts in five minutes." The tinny voice that sounded through the amps announced that it was time to get going. Logan pushed his bike forward through the gathering crowd, while Marie trailed behind him, unhappily carrying his helmet.

Reaching his designated spot, he turned to her and took it from her hands. "Come on, baby. When this is over, we're gonna go out for dinner and celebrate. Give me a kiss and wish me luck."

"No." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stepped back, sporting a scowl that rivalled the look he only gave his arch enemies. "I'm not your groupie. I'm not going to hug and kiss you and promise that you'll get to fuck me if you win."

Again, he tried for a joke, even though he knew that it was probably useless. If he'd been in her spot, he probably would have wrecked something by now. "I hope I'll even get to fuck you if I lose."

The words had barely left his mouth when he knew that saying them had been a bad idea. Her eyes flashed, and she swung back and placed a solid punch on his chin that would have knocked a human man unconscious. "Fuck *yourself*," she yelled as she stomped off, ignoring him as he called after her.

"Marie!" Dammit, he said to himself as he put on his helmet and started the bike. First he'd win, then he'd talk to her. He just hoped she'd still be there after the race.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Marie was fuming as she stomped off the track, ignoring Logan calling after her. If she was straightforwardly honest with herself, which she usually tried to be, she knew that she wasn't being fair. But she didn't care. She didn't want to be fair any more. Life didn't treat her fair either. And teasing her about the whole shitty situation had just been mean. She snorted as she rubbed her knuckle. Delivering that punch had relieved her of some of her tension, and she felt better. She grinned sourly to herself. At least Logan had achieved that much.

But she wasn't thankful enough for him being her punching bag to be able to stand here calmly and watch him race. It was selfish, but she couldn't make herself step back and contemplate him driving, and probably winning, without that tingle of flaming ambitiousness that had pushed her forward up to this point growing into a blast of anger and jealousy. She'd rather not watch. He'd find her. At least she hoped so.

She sighed and walked on, heading straight away from the track and the noise of cheers and excitement and roaring machines, and the smell of oil and rubber and sweat and� Decay? Marie stopped dead in her tracks as she pushed her recently acquired senses to their limits, trying to link the foul stench she picked up on the air to the memory that was connected to it. She knew that smell. What the hell was going on?

Inside her, Carol stirred. Marie felt a tingle going through her body, making her shiver and settling in her stomach in anticipation, and automatically slipped into fighting mode. She had depended on her instincts long enough to feel trouble coming, taste it. She quickly scanned the spot around her with a look, but couldn't see anything. Cautiously, she stepped a few paces forward, trying to track the smell, and indeed, it did get stronger.

She rounded a few of the closely parked trailers and vans, trying to keep in the shadows as much as possible and avoiding any noise. The prickle on her skin grew stronger as she rounded another corner, and suddenly heard a deep, snarling voice from behind a van left of her. "So Wolverine's here?"

Her heart started thumping in her chest, loud enough that she was sure the man, or rather beast, on the other side of the vehicle would hear it and come over to rip it right out of her. Sabretooth was here. Oh God� She forced the threatening sickness in her throat down again and tried to calm herself. He was talking about Logan. Maybe Logan was in danger. She had to hear this. Oh God� "Yeah," an unfamiliar voice answered. "And all bets are that he'll win today. He's good."

Sabretooth let out a barking laugh which made Marie's nerves tense even more. How she hated that laugh�
"We'll see." Marie heard a strangled cry, and a thud, probably from the man's body hitting the ground, and she hoped that he would be OK as she snuck around the van, just to see Sabretooth's dirty, furry back disappear around a corner, headed in direction of the course. Damn. The insides of her gloves dampened as her hands were getting sweaty and trembly with nervousness. It didn't matter that she had put this man down once, and that with his powers, she'd now even more be able to match him. He was her torturer, the man of her worst nightmares, and when she closed her eyes, she still saw his sadistic grin, smelled the foulness of his breath, felt the claws tearing into her flesh, and when he found that she was invulnerable, tearing and prodding even harder, until she cried out in pain.

She resisted the urge to turn and run though, and tried to compose herself. She had to be inconspicuous. Sabretooth knew her scent, and he knew the smell of fear even better. Was drawn to it like a magnet, in fact, she thought with a snort. She saw the beast headed to the woods at the far side of the track, where the road disappeared into a patch of forest for a few hundred feet.

Behind her, she heard a loud bang, and flinched, until she realized that it had been the starting shot. The drivers were on their way, and Sabretooth had almost reached the woods already. The track was dark there, and narrow. If he planned anything, this was the spot to do it. Marie took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then looked around her to see if anyone was looking, but the crowd was watching and cheering at the drivers, who were now almost half around the course. She had to go after Sabretooth, quick. With a resolute set of her chin, she lifted herself up into the air. She had to help Logan.

Her heart thumped in her chest, both from the strain the flying still brought, and with fear, for herself, but even more for Logan. The last words she had said had been spoken in anger. If anything happened to him� She banished the thought from her mind as she approached the narrow line of trees, hovering close to the leafy tops to keep out of sight. Beneath her, she saw Sabretooth ducking behind a bush, shifting a large club from one clawed hand to the other.

From close by, she could hear the humming of the engines getting closer, and see the first glimpses of glittering paint flash through the twigs. If possible, her heart rate sped up even more, until the hard thuds were making her whole body tremble, making it hard to keep her balance. The wind had picked up, too, and was carrying Sabretooth's foul stench, stinging in her nose.

Slowly, she lowered herself, until she was cowering behind a bush, at Sabretooth's back, and slowly crawled towards him, the steady drum of the approaching motorcycles masking every sound she made. Peeling one of her gloves off as she went, she prayed that she didn't have to absorb this monster again. Nevertheless, she was ready to do so if it was necessary. She had to help Logan.

If anything happened to him� No. She clenched her fists, refusing to allow even the possibility. Nothing would happen to Logan. He would go over the finishing line the winner, and she'd be there to kiss him and congratulate, and not care at all that there hadn't been a chance for her to prove herself. There would be other times. There was only one Logan.

The sounds of the motorcycles were there, flashes of silver and gold and red and white in the dark shades of the forest, and she saw Logan nearing, teetering along the line of foul leaves and branches that lined the bumpy road while he fought for predominance, pushing his bike further and further until the engine howled like a wounded animal. Marie saw her opponent stir in his hiding place, grasping the large rotten piece of wood, ready to throw Logan off-balance, and she clenched her fists in fury as Carol stirred beneath her skin too, cheering her on to punish the beast for wanting to hurt her lover, for having hurt her, and with a scream, she threw herself at Sabretooth's broad back, hitting him before he had a chance to realize what was happening.

The other mutant went down with an angry snarl, reaching over his shoulder to pry her off of him where she was digging her gloved fingers into him painfully, and flung her into the nearest bush. He blinked as he saw her, recognized her, and his evil grin revealed his dirty teeth. "Look at that. There's my little girl." She almost threw up on the spot, but tried to gather herself and get up. Behind Sabretooth, out of his reach now, all the drivers had gone by without anyone noticing what was going on, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were safe for now. Logan was safe for now.

"I'm not your little girl," she spat as she levered herself from the ground quickly, hovering a few inches above the ground to be able to move out of his grasp fast. "This time, you're going down for good."

The tone she was speaking in had frightened many a man who had thought he could have his way with the petite-looking Marie, but Sabretooth of course wasn't discouraged. She shivered as she recalled how she had told Logan that the guy loved to be met with a fight, loved the crying and begging and defiance. With a loud scream, she threw herself at him, putting every ounce of her strength into the blow, but he didn't as much as stumble backwards a few steps before he laughed uglily and met her swinging fist with a clawed paw of his own.

Rogue was thrown off-balance, all her strength not compensating for the advantage in height and weight�yet. She narrowed her eyes as she caught herself in mid-air, avoiding a second blow by flying out of his reach, analyzing the situation, not allowing the scared little girl Marie that had been acting so much during the last three days to neutralize the fighting skills Rogue had acquired. She was strong. She could do this. She had to get him down, so he couldn't use the leverage of his seven plus feet height, and then attack.

He growled and snarled as she hovered just above him, searching for a way to attack his head without getting caught by her arms or feet. She was quick, when she needed to be, she had his reflexes, she had Carol's powers. She could do this. Just as she was about to land a hard kick against the beast's head, the loud roaring of a motorcycle coming down the track towards them made her head snap up, and that was all the chance Sabretooth needed. With a hard yank, he caught her by her foot, dragging her down, and the momentary confusion made her lose her control. She crashed to the ground, hard, her head hitting a large piece of wood that made her black out.

The few seconds that her mind was muddled before the healing kicked in was enough. With a growl, her opponent pounced on her, choking her with his clawed hands. She struggled until she felt the darkness come, thinking of Logan and frantically trying to get out of this, but not even the healing factor could make up for lack of oxygen forever. With a last, sobbing spasm of her body, she went limp and everything faded into nothingness.

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Logan leaned in closely to his machine, enjoying the wind rushing away around him and the thrill of the race. He was first, by far, and he would win. Just four more laps around the track, through that little forest�

A growl reached his ears, even through the helmet, and to the right, he saw a glimpse of dirty brown flash through the branches of a bush, and he would have discarded it as a wild animal, if he hadn't suddenly caught a scent that was strong enough to penetrate his nose even through the windshield.

Marie. And desperate, frantic fear.

He brought his bike to a screeching halt, sparks flying and rubber tearing away from the wheels, leaving a black mark on the road. He unceremoniously dropped the machine, jumping off the bike and running into the woods, where he had heard the growl, as fast as he could.

The sight that he encountered almost made his heart stop. And then it started pounding with doubled speed, with deep, blinding hatred. Sabretooth was on his knees on top of Marie's lifeless, small body, choking her hard enough to make bruises appear in her supposedly invulnerable skin, and with the other hand tearing away her clothes.

The rage had him pop the claws and ram them into Sabretooth's back before he knew it, before the beast had any chance to react. He howled with pain, letting go of Marie's throat and trying to turn around to the new threat, only that he was still pinned with six adamantium blades. "Get. Off. Of. Her." Logan spat, almost unable to form the words through the growls that escaped him.

Sabretooth roared, struggling to reach him with his paws, but Logan, reinforced by blinding anger, and the sight of Marie lying unconsciously on the ground, was more than a match for him. With one jerk of his fists, he dragged the claws through the man's back, spilling blood everywhere, sprinkling the forest floor.

The man-beast went down, howling with pain, and Logan shot one look at Marie and, seeing her stir, he concentrated on their opponent again, knowing that the bastard would heal, fast. He pushed his knee down into the man's stomach with his full adamantium-increased weight as he went down on top of him, piercing his front with the claws for good measure now. Behind him, he heard Marie moan and struggle to get up, and after a few seconds, he felt her hand on his shoulder while he was slashing away at Sabretooth, beating and cutting and raving. "Logan�"

Her voice was raspy and strained, and only with effort could he make himself snap out of his rage enough to turn to her, his teeth still bared in a snarl, his fists dripping with blood from the now unconscious man. "You. OK?"

"Yeah." She nodded, her eyes leaving his and fixing themselves on the still form on the ground. She pushed as his shoulder, urging him to get up, and then, all her fury releasing itself in a piercing scream, gave a kick to the bleeding body before her. "Go. Win. I'll finish this off. And this time I'll be thorough." She looked at the lifeless heap at her feet in disgust.

"Sure?" He didn't want to leave her alone with this, not after all Sabretooth had done to her. But when she lifted her head and met his eyes, he saw that she needed to finish this alone. To prove to herself, once and for all, that she could handle this; and he didn't have a doubt that she could. She was strong, and beautiful, fire blazing in her eyes and the wind pulling her brown and white locks from her face, framing it wildly like the statue of a goddess. A goddess of war. She was strong, and beautiful, and he was falling in love with her.

It must've shown in his eyes, because while he still processed the fact, mulled it over in his head, her eyes softened and she nodded her head in the direction of his bike. "Yeah. Go. I want to come back and see you the winner."

Winning. It hadn't been on his mind at all any more, and nothing but her serious order, or the voice in which it was spoken would have led him to think about it now. He wanted to be there for her, with her now, finish this thing in which he had as much a part as she, but he knew that he would serve her best if he let her deal with this alone. Silently vowing that this would be the last incident she'd *have* to deal with alone, he climbed on his bike and disappeared in a cloud of smoke without looking back. She was strong, and he trusted her. She'd finish this, for them both.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

He sat on his trailer when she approached him, feet dangling, grinning boyishly. She instantly knew that he'd been victorious, and her gloomy spirits picked up a little. The dirty work was done, Sabretooth burned, and she was inclined to forget him now. Walking towards Logan, she slumped into his outstretched arms the second she got close to him. "Congratulations," she murmured against his chest, letting the tension in her tightly knotted muscles bleed out of her.

"I reckon you were successful too?" His tone held concern as he slowly stroked her hair, and she immediately relaxed. There would be no lying alone in bed tonight, shivering and trembling and listening to every creak in the wooden floor, ready to bolt from the bed immediately to fight for life or death. There would be no crying and throwing up from the nightmare that was her life after she had finally gotten to sleep, not tonight, and if it was up to her, not for a while, not ever. She hoped that he returned at least a little of what she felt. The idea of being alone after all this, after being Marie again, would be too cruel.

"Yeah." She was tired, in spite of the adrenaline still pulsing through her. He shifted her in his arms, lifted her up with ease and carried her to the front of the truck, buckling her into the seat. She felt strange at the feeling of being pampered like this. It made her feel weak, but also warm and cared for. She could have easily carried him away like this, not to mention kicked his ass, but for now, it just felt good to let go, and relax. She hadn't been able to do that for so long. She hadn't been able to trust anyone.

"Let's go home, huh?" She nodded as he got into the driver's seat next to her and started the engine. His words warmed her and made her shiver at the same time, the implications of `home' being too much, the responsibility and exposure and commitment, but she found that she was even more scared about not giving it a try. After all, she thought with amusement, she had never been one to back out of a challenge.

"Yeah. Home." The warm, husky tone in which she'd said it triggered a similar response in his hazel eyes, those eyes that had struck her from the first moment she saw him, and the heat and desire she saw in there now made them about a thousand times more entrancing still. Even though she was tired, she'd never be too tired to react to those eyes, she mused as heat pulsed through her in waves that made her flush with excitement.

His eyes held mirth, and more than a little satisfaction. "Sounds good, huh?"

He reached over to squeeze her thigh, and the careful, yet carefree way with which he touched her, added to his gentle tone, turned her need for him into something softer, more tender, feelings she hadn't had in years bubbling to the surface naturally and making her lean over and give him a kiss where he was protected by his sideburns. He was a silly, conceited, amazing man, and God help her, she truly was falling in love with him.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Good idea to get those tights, darling."

"Yeah." She snickered. "The thin gloves feel better too. I like them."

"I told you I had a few good ideas how to spend my prize money." He chuckled, then draped the thin silk scarf they had purchased too over her face and kissed her softly. "You know that I know I would've had a hard time winning if you had been racing?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. But it doesn't seem all that important any more." Her brown eyes were serious as she lifted her head to look at him. "After all that has happened, I'm just glad you're OK, and I'm OK."

"Yeah. Me too." Sure, his reputation had been restored when he had gained on his competitors enough to pass the finishing line first, after he'd been thrown back behind all other drivers, but first thing on his mind had been Marie when he had received the prize money, and praise of the crowd. She was right, it didn't seem all that important any more.

She idly played with his right gloved hand, smothering the wrinkles out of the thin leather while they fell into pensive silence. "Logan?" she finally continued.

"Yes, honey?" She shifted, and he could feel her tense, and wondered what was up.

"What are we gonna do now?" He knew that she wasn't referring to *now*, or tomorrow, and a few days ago, the implications would have send him running. Now, as it was, he had been more concerned about her not feeling the way he did than his own hesitation. But her question held a little anxiety, and he smelled nervousness wafting off of her too, and those signs, signs that she cared, relieved him instantly. So he wasn't the only one who had been taken with surprising feelings during the last couple of days. He kissed the top of her head while he snuggled her in closer to him.

"Didn't think I'd ever say it, even less feel it, but�I like you." He braced himself for the commitment he was going to make, but found, to his surprise, that it didn't feel all that hard at all. "What do you say we hole up for the winter together, somewhere remote, have lots of sex, see how it turns out?"

She didn't look up, but he could feel her lips curl into a smile through the thin sheet. "I like you too. And yeah, that sounds good to me."

He chuckled with delight at hearing it, and at her smug tone. It slowly dawned on him that in no time, she'd have him wrapped around her finger, but he didn't even mind it much. "Who would've thought, huh?"

"Hmm," she sighed, and he noted with satisfaction that all nervousness disappeared, replaced by a deep happiness that bled from the tight squeeze of her arms around him into him too and made his heart pound warmly. After years of racing around tracks, chasing his past, moving around restlessly, he finally found himself settled, arrived.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Epilogue:

The first snow was falling as they passed the last town before heading north for their winter quarters.

"You know Laughlin?" Logan shot her a surprised glance.

"Yeah. Passed through it a few years ago. I was half-starved and hadn't slept in a few days. Bartender let me stay at his bar until someone came too close to me and they discovered I was a mutant. Then I almost hopped into the trailer of some guy who had been in a cage fight that night, and afterwards in a barroom brawl, but he was gone before I could gather my nerve."

His eyebrow arched high into his forehead. "You've been at that dingy bar? I've fought there a few times, both in barroom brawls and the cage. Had a trailer too."

She furrowed her brow, facing him squarely and studying his features closely until he finally saw a smirk curl her lips. "You didn't, by any chance, go without the muttonchops then?"

"Yeah." He didn't really get her point until he heard her chuckle, and then laugh out loudly.

"I should've seen it before�but those muttonchops�and I was a little buzzed that night too, so." She grinned at him, and he gaped at her incredulously.

"Are you serious?" The twinkle in her eyes confirmed that she was. It was unbelievable, that fate had actually provided them with a chance for hooking up *twice*. It almost seemed too good to be true. But on the other hand, Logan mused, it only confirmed that they *were* meant for each other.

"I wonder what would've happened if I really *had* snuck into your trailer all those years ago," she said contemplatively.

"Well, my trailer blew up when I crashed into Sabretooth along the way. Maybe you would've helped me kick his ass." He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she shook her head, her curls flying.

"No. I was just a silly, lost teenager back then. Totally helpless. I wouldn't have made much of an impression on you." She grinned. "You'd probably have dumped me somewhere along the way."

"Maybe." He reached over and grasped her hand. "Or maybe I would've known that I had found someone special. Even though you were just a girl." She snorted, but he gave her hand a gentle squeeze that conveyed, much as the light in his eyes, that he wasn't exactly serious. "Maybe it would've been like�" He leaned back in contemplation and puffed at his cigar, then, as if struck by sudden thought, shot her a glance and a growl.

"What kind of a name is Rogue?"

She smirked. She loved to play, but especially, she loved to play with him.

"What kind of a name is Wolverine?" she retorted, before they both burst into laughter. Together, they drove down the snowy road, content that, after a long time of race and rush, for once everything was going slowly, and steadily.