Like Wet On Water
by Victoria P.

When Rogue finally mastered her mutation, the whole mansion held its breath in anticipation.

Everyone thought that Logan would finally make his move, or that she would be so overjoyed at being able to touch that she'd jump on him and they wouldn't leave her bedroom for days.

So it was something of a shock to them all when nothing changed.

Except that things did change. They deteriorated rapidly between Logan and Rogue. The sexual tension between them, which had always been sublimated into a close and loving friendship, was suddenly fraught with an edge that got everyone's attention. Everyone in the mansion could feel the passion simmering between them, building slowly until they all knew it would have to explode; they just hoped it exploded into passion and love, not anger and hurt.

They circled each other warily, Logan still afraid he was bad for the woman he'd come to think of as his best friend and soulmate (not that he'd ever use that term, of course), and Rogue still afraid Logan was in love with Jean even if his lingering glances warmed her body and haunted her nights.

Finally, after weeks of tension (which, truth be told, neither Scott nor Ororo much minded, as it kept Jean and Xavier both in a constant state of arousal and made their lives a lot more fun, even if they got less sleep than ever), Jubilee decided to take a hand.

Talking to the frustrated pair was as useful as talking to a brick wall, and she'd seen enough romantic comedies to know that drastic action was required. And drastic action required the wacky best friend to get creative and make a plan for the oblivious yet meant-to-be-together couple to get together at last.

So one day, after the oblivious pair had their daily Danger Room session (which brimmed with so much sexual tension that even the non-telepaths in the room found themselves scurrying to find a lover afterwards), Jubilee put her plan into action.

Waiting until Rogue was under the shower, she signaled Bobby, who froze the pipes in the men's locker room, forcing Logan into the women's area to shower.

As soon as Logan entered the stall, muttering to himself about the sad lack of curtains on the men's showers and how come all the women didn't have to get naked together, Jubes sent Kitty into the lockers to steal all their clothes.

The stage was set. Now it was up to the players. Jubilee hoped they didn't screw up their parts.


Logan cursed to himself as he lathered up. He knew Marie was in here somewhere, naked, wet and slippery...

And he had to stop thinking like that. It was dangerous. She was beautiful and now she was touchable and he wasn't going to stand in her way. She could have any man she wanted, and he was almost certain he'd cured her of her infatuation with himself.

She'd wanted to touch him, offered him first crack at so much bare, pale, safe skin, and he'd flinched, afraid that if he started touching her, he'd never be able to stop. So he started avoiding her. It was safer that way -- less tempting. He could smell it on her, desire perfuming the air whenever they were together. In fact, he could smell it right now.

He bit back a moan, his hand drifting down to grab his cock, hard and aching for her touch. He stroked it twice before stopping -- he didn't trust himself to do this with her so close. He would get caught and that would be all kinds of bad.

He leaned against the tile, which cooled his heated skin even in the warm spray of the shower. He took a couple of deep breaths, loving the scent of her in the humid air, but determined to get himself under control.

He didn't think he could take much more of this, though. He had to leave soon, go north, maybe, and stay away until he was sure she was involved with someone else. He could do that. He could watch from the sidelines and want what he couldn't have. It was the story of his life.

It was getting what he wanted, and losing it, that scared him to death.


Rogue sighed in frustration as she rubbed lotion on her aching muscles. She couldn't do this much longer. She thought she'd break under the strain of not touching him. Of not being touched by him.

It had been one thing when she couldn't touch. She'd accepted that, drawn into herself and covered her skin, more afraid of carelessness than anything. And careless he'd been. He'd touched her regularly, a hand on the shoulder, a finger in her hair -- gloved or ungloved, it hadn't mattered. He'd always been the one who was unafraid, undaunted.

Until the day he discovered she could touch. Then he'd shrunk from her in fear and, she was convinced, disgust.

He'd touched her as long as it could never be more than a fleeting brush of fingers down her cheek. As soon as she was touchable, available, he'd drawn back like she was death.

She shook her head.

Who could understand men? They seemed so simple, especially Logan -- fight, fuck, food. If only he were as simple as he looked, as he wanted everyone to think, then she wouldn't be in this state, constantly aroused, worn to a thread with wanting and not having.

For their training sessions, she kept covered up. It was the only way she could be sure that he'd still spar with her. He'd stopped hanging out with her, and she knew he was close to leaving altogether. So if he felt more comfortable with her covered head-to-toe in spandex, she could do that. She knew he could smell her desire, but that she had no control over.

She pulled the comb through her tangled hair in frustration. She was this close to marching over to the men's locker room and having her way with him right now.

But fear of his reaction stopped her.

Sighing, she shed her towel and reached into the locker for her clothes. And found them missing.

A quick scan of the area showed that they were nowhere in sight.

"Crap." She picked up the damp towel and wrapped it around herself. "Jubilee, this isn't funny!" she shouted, but there was no answer.

The locker room was silent except for the shower running in the next row of stalls.

Pulling the towel tight, she padded over to the other side of the room.

Where Logan was just emerging from the shower stall, water sluicing over his chest and down his abdomen, following the narrow trail of hair until it disappeared into the tangle at his groin.

She stopped and stared. He was amazing. The hard planes of his body glistened in the dim fluorescent light, and she ran her eyes over him slowly, beginning with his hair, already forming points as it dried, then down over his chest and stomach, and stopping dead at the sight of his cock, erect and jutting from his body.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, uh--" 'Think,' she told herself furiously, but her brain was not functioning at this point, having ceded control to her hormones.

He turned away, giving her a great view of his broad, muscular back and firm, rounded ass. She swallowed hard.

"Jubilee stole my clothes," she blurted as he reached into a locker. She moved closer, around the bench separating them. She needed to be near him, was drawn to him like iron shavings to a magnet. Which would be funny, if she thought about it, could think about it, because he was the one with the metal skeleton.

He turned back again, hands empty from his quest for his own clothing. She couldn't help it. Her eyes went straight back to his cock.

"See something you like?" he said, and she snapped her eyes up to his face. He looked -- tense. Turned on, yes, and proud, but definitely tense.

Maybe --

Before her brain could kick into gear again and stop her, she slid to her knees before him. "Can I touch it?" she whispered, already suiting action to words.

She curled her hand around his hard, hot cock and he gasped. She took that for a yes. She was tentative -- as much as guys had said they liked her, none had been willing to let the girl with the lethal skin get too close to their family jewels.

She looked up to see his eyes on her, dark with something she couldn't quite figure out. Desire, yes, but also fear.

She began stroking him gently from base to tip. "Is this okay?"

He leaned back against the lockers and grunted, "Harder."

She increased her pace, scooting forward a little. With her left hand, she traced the underside of the shaft, brow furrowing in concentration. She traced the slit, and brought her finger to her mouth, tasting the pre-come with interest. He groaned and she looked up again. The emotion in his eyes sent shivers through her, and desire uncurled itself in her belly. Her nipples rubbed against the rough fabric of the towel, making her gasp in pleasure.

She thought she might be able to come just from the feel of his cock in her hand. She leaned forward, almost on instinct, and licked the head. His hips jerked forward, and she grabbed his ass in surprise.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Is it okay?" she asked, suddenly worried about doing it wrong. He had so much experience, and since her first kiss had ended in disaster, she'd avoided intimate contact of any kind. It had been six years since she'd touched anyone skin-to-skin, and she'd never done this at all.

"Better than," he managed, and ran one finger over the arch of her cheek. "Don't stop. Please." That last was almost pleading, and another flare of pleasure filled her; she felt the warmth between her thighs now, and parted them slightly as she bent again to lick him, knowing he could smell her, knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Maybe more, even, if the way his hips moved in time with her hand was any indication.

Another, firmer lick, snaking her tongue around the head and then letting him fill her mouth. His hands tangled in her hair, cradling her skull.

"Marie," he groaned.

She bobbed her head up and down, trying to remember what she'd seen in movies, and in his memories. She slid her teeth along the underside of the shaft, enjoying the way he trembled. She might be the one on her knees, but she was in control, and it was a powerful turn-on to know she could do this to him with hands and lips and tongue.

He grunted again, and then his hands moved from the back of her head to her chin. He pushed, and with one last long slide of her lips, she pulled back.

"What? Did I do it wrong?" she asked anxiously.

He shook his head, and she could see the tension in his body. If he pushed her away now, she was going to cry.

He took her hands and hauled her up; her towel fluttered to the floor. He didn't answer in words. Instead, he kissed her, his mouth slanting over hers forcefully. His hands were everywhere, pressing her against him, skimming over her breasts and hips, his cock rubbing against her belly.

The rough velvet of his tongue inside her mouth sent fire through her veins. She couldn't get close enough to him; the feel of his chest hair against her breasts made her gasp and when his thumbs flicked over her nipples, she thought she was going to collapse. She pressed herself to him and he laughed against her mouth, a sound that warmed her in ways that had everything to do with him and nothing to do with what their bodies were doing.

"Logan," she pleaded, wondering how he was able to exert such rigid control when she was wild for him. "I need you inside me."

A low growl replaced the laughter, and he swung them around, so her back was against the lockers now. He slipped a hand beneath her ass and lifted, hooking her right leg around his hips and bringing his cock in contact with her wet and aching sex.

"God, Marie," he whispered, slipping a hand between them to stroke her folds. She shuddered in pleasure at the feel of his fingers.

"Please--" It was a barely a squeak.

His breath was hot and sweet in her ear. "This is your first time, right?"

She blinked, nodded. Oh, God, he -- "You're not going to stop, are you?"

Again, that deep, rumbling laugh. "No, darlin'. There's no stopping now. But--" Quicker than he should have been able to, weighed down by an adamantium skeleton and one hundred and twenty pounds of Rogue clinging to him, he straddled the bench with her on his lap, her legs falling to either side of his hips. He brushed the wet mop of hair off her forehead and she could see how much effort this restraint was costing him, sweat beading along his brow and chest, mingling with the last remnants of water from his shower. "Unless you want to stop?"

"Never." And she leaned forward, kissing him hard.

He went to work again, stroking and teasing her clit until she was panting and writhing in his arms. She was stunned at the feelings flooding through her, better than anything she'd ever imagined or been able to conjure up on her own. The orgasm hit with surprising force; she shuddered with it as pleasure radiated out through her body.

She was still shaking with the aftershocks when she felt Logan's cock press against her entrance. "Easy, baby," he whispered. "Relax." He guided her hips with his hands and she raised up to give him access.

She let the pleasurable languor leach away her nervousness, and thought it was going really, really well, considering that fifteen minutes ago, she'd been desperate to get him to touch her and--

"Oh!" The feel of him pushing into her was startling.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her lips. "You okay?"

She shifted slightly and nodded. "Yeah. I think so." She lowered herself a little, taking in more of him. It was-- different than what she'd expected, and with a slow, steady push, he was sheathed in her to the hilt.

"God." It was the merest breath against her lips, and she opened her mouth to take it in. She wanted everything of him, as much as she could get, inside her.

He began thrusting slowly, gently, still guiding her hips with his hands as she moved above him, getting used to the stretch, the feel, the rhythm.

It was amazing. She was aware of every nerve ending, every sensation inside and out -- the feel of his skin against hers, the sound of their bodies sliding against each other, damp with water and sweat and lotion. His mouth trailed fire along her jaw and throat and she threw back her head as their pace sped up; she rode him with wild abandon, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

He growled then, his teeth bared in a fierce smile of triumph and pleasure as he climaxed inside her, thrusting even harder than before. She felt the warm spurt of his come and the fleeting thought of condoms crossed her mind, but she had waited so long to be able to touch that even with the risks involved, she didn't want anything between them this first time.

"Marie, baby," he groaned, resting his head in the crook of her neck, panting hard.

"I love you, Logan," she said, her body still thrumming and taut with desire.

"You do?" She felt his eyes bore into hers and wondered why he seemed so surprised.

"Yeah. I always have."

"Oh." He kissed her, his lips warm and tender, molding to hers gently as his tongue swept into her mouth again. She met it with her own, tasting him as he tasted her. His hand slid between them, once more finding her clitoris and teasing it, his cock still buried inside her and growing hard again.

Once more, he shifted their positions and she found herself on her back on the bench, legs wrapped around his hips, hands grasping his biceps and back arched to rub her breasts against his chest.

She couldn't think, couldn't talk, couldn't do anything but feel as he took her over the edge again, slowly this time, with long, languid strokes and gentle kisses raining down on her face and neck and breasts.

When they were finished, she was weak-kneed and hoarse, lightheaded and overwhelmed.

He appeared dazed as well, but he managed to disengage from her, though she grabbed him and grunted in protest, still not quite able to speak coherently.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, carrying her into the shower stall he'd used earlier, and turning on the water.

She clung to him, still feeling boneless, though her brain was beginning to take charge again. He gently washed her down, taking every opportunity to kiss as many parts of her body as he could reach.

"Logan?" She looked up at him, and when he didn't meet her gaze, she grasped his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. "Why were you avoiding me? Didn't you want this?" She waved a hand between them.

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"I was--" he stopped and cleared his throat. "I thought--"

She smiled, flooded with joy, even though he hadn't said the words yet. His bumbling around the subject was proof enough that his feelings for her ran deep, and she knew he hated discussing them. "You were scared! You big scaredy-cat! You love me and you were scared to tell me!"

"I was not!" he replied indignantly. "I thought, you know, I thought I was bad for you." This last came out in a rushed mumble.

"But you do love me, right?" she asked. "I just want to get clear on that point."

He laughed, and hugged her close. "Oh yeah, darlin'. I love you," he growled in her ear, and she felt his cock hard against her thigh.

She reached down to stroke him, slightly awed. "Again?"

His answering grin was rakish. "Can't beat the healing factor."


Kitty, Bobby and Jubilee sat outside the locker room.

"I think it worked," Bobby said. "If those moans we heard are any indication."

Kitty blushed. "Who'd have thought Rogue would be so loud? She doesn't even sing in the shower."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Look, Kitty, why don't you phase in and have a look around, just to make sure--"

"Absolutely not. What if they're still--"

"Fine. Then I'll go in and--"

"And what, kid?" Logan, towel wrapped around his waist, with a similarly clad Rogue in his arms, walked out of the locker room.

The three conspirators jumped up, scrambling out of his way, grinning foolishly. Logan strode past them.

"Uh, nothing. You go, guys," Jubilee said, backing away. "Go have some naked fun."

"We will," Rogue called over Logan's shoulder. "But you better bring my clothes back tomorrow!"

Kitty, Jubilee and Bobby shared a smirk as the couple disappeared into the elevator. "I don't think she'll be needing clothes any time soon," Jubilee said smugly. "And you all said I'd never learn anything useful from spending so much time at the movies. Ha!" She nodded in satisfaction. "When all else fails, and you want the job done right, leave it to Jubilee."


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