Moments In.....the Hallway: Nothing Casual Title: #2 Moments In  the Hallway: Nothing Casual Author: Terri & J. Hallmark (arabian@ite.net) Series: "Moments In " (with J. Hallmark) Summary: Logan bumps into Marie in the hallway. Category: Logan, Logan/Rogue Rating: R. Frustrated Logan POV, yeah, there's gonna be some language and sexuality. Thanks To: (from Jennifer) Gowdie once again for her supreme awesomeness in helping me get the kinks out of my part. And Fyrdrakken who gave more thought to this than even I did, thus helping me figure out exactly what I'm doing. ------------------------------------------------------- If he closed his eyes, he could still see the look on her face when his hand curved around her breast, still feel the tension in her body, smell the scent of her heat. Snapping his eyes open, Logan reminded himself that he wasn't going to close his eyes anymore. He wasn't going to think about her. Touch her. Kiss her. Fuck her. He stopped walking, just stopped in the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall. That was the problem, right there, he thought to himself. With Marie it wasn't fucking. It wasn't fucking. He wanted more than a casual fuck. He wanted... He wanted Marie; he wanted to be with her  to love her. And that scared him shitless. Fuck! He was not dealing with this shit. Turning around, he barreled down the hallway, and he was gonna go to his room, grab his gear and get out of there now! "Oof!" Oh, hell. Marie. "You all right?" She was holding onto her shoulder, biting her lip a bit in pain. And Goddamn, if he didn't want to do the same, feel the lush flavor of her lips, a slight nibble against their pink .... "Yeah, I just bumped my shoulder a little there." Her voice was quiet and she looked past his shoulder, avoiding his gaze. She was avoiding his gaze. Why was she avoiding him? "Sorry. Wasn't payin' attention." And he bent at the knees just a bit, moving his head to the left, trying to catch her eye, because if anyone was avoiding, it was he. "It's okay." And her voice was still quiet, but he could tell - she was mad at him. He could hear it just there under the quiet civility. That's it. He was getting out now while he still could. "Good, I'm just gonna go then." He backed up, prepared to flee the scene, and then "Logan?" And her voice was still soft, but the anger was gone - instead, oh shit. It wasn't anger; it had never been anger. It was hurt. He couldn't go. He couldn't leave  her. He stopped and looked past her shoulder now, the one that he'd bumped into. "Yeah?" Calm. Casual, that was what he had to be - he had to control himself. If he didn't, she'd be against the wall right now. "Don't be - don't be weird, okay? Don't be weird about what happened in the training room." The training room, Marie, simulated combat, his hand slipping from her shoulder to the perfect feel of her  He closed his eyes briefly. He did not want to think about this -- talk about this. He didn't want to talk at all. And his gaze opened, resting now just a bit lower than her shoulder, on her chest and the rise and fall of her breasts, oh Jesus, her nipples, standing proud and at attention and he did not want to talk at all. She took a step forward; he took another step back. "I'm, ah  you know, I didn't mean for that to happen. My hand, uh, slipped. It was an accident." Goddamn, he sounded like a pansy. Calm down. Breathe, Logan, just breathe. And get the fuck out NOW! "Oh." Did she? Did she sound disappointed? What was she trying to do to him? Let's tone this down. It was an accident, gotta make her understand it was an accident and that he wasn't making any moves. "'Cause I wouldn't just do that on purpose." "Why not?" And her voice was so soft and sweet that her words didn't hit him right away and when they did. Oh shit! It wasn't his imagination; he wasn't fooling himself. She wanted him. She wanted them. And he was not  he did not. He would not. Play it down, Logan, play it down. "What?" "I said why wouldn't you do it on purpose?" Goddamn her, what the fuck was she trying to do him? "'Cause - 'cause...." Fuck pansy, now he was just blathering like an idiot. "Well?" And she took another step closer and his eyes were on her waist and then lower and he sniffed, he couldn't help it and he could - oh, God, he could smell her and she was - Fuck. Out, out, must get out! "I dunno, Marie. I just dunno, okay?" He was begging - well, as close to begging as he could. Don't, don't make me do this, he almost cried inside. I can't do this, can't take this, can't take you. I'll screw up, you'll screw up, we'll screw each other up because it sure as hell won't be just a casual ride. "Logan - wait. I'm - I'm not mad that you did that or anything. I don't feel weird about it. I just - I wish you'd stop avoiding me." He was quiet. He simply had no response, other than a lie or the truth and fuck it all, if he was gonna let that spill. And then she was quiet for a moment, and he found his gaze locked on the turn of her face as she looked past him still. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but there was something about her that just sighed perfection to him. The tilt of her head, the way her lips moved when she spoke, the different emotions so evident in her eyes. She touched something in him that he wasn't even aware existed. That was his truth. If it was just lust, just fucking, he would have had her already. But it wasn't just fucking. It was Marie. "Are you mad at me?" And there went that soft voice again and she'd grown so much, but he could hear the little girl in there - the little girl who'd ran away from home, the little girl who just wanted someone to love her, despite God's cruel gift. And he couldn't stay silent. "No. No, kid." And the nickname sounded foreign on his tongue because he hadn't thought of her as a kid in a long, long time. "I don't want to push, but I've missed having you around these past couple days. That's all. You've been gone so long, and I missed you. I really missed you, Logan. And then you come back and after a week, you're avoiding me." Her voice dropped a notch and he moved closer even though he could hear her perfectly well. "I miss you." "I know." The truth. And then another. "I'm sorry about what happened the other day. I didn't mean to touch you." The truth. He hadn't meant to; he'd wanted to, but he had not meant to. "I didn't mind." And her gaze met his for the first time in two days. Too much truth. "Marie ..." "I didn't, Logan. And I don't think you're really sorry you did it either. You just won't admit it." And there was a challenge in her eyes as she moved a step closer and he couldn't back away because somehow in all of their moving and shifting his back was to the wall and he had nowhere to go. She had him trapped and wasn't letting him go. "Why are you so nervous around me, Logan? Avoiding me?" She knew. He still remembered the kitchen, the look in her eyes. She knew and she wanted him to admit it. No fucking way. "I'm not avoiding you, I just - " He began, prepared to lie, because Goddamn, if he was gonna open himself up to her - she was ready to jump right inside and he wasn't ready to just let her. "You are avoiding me." And there was a light in her eyes. She was having fun. She wanted to break him, tame him, make him her little puppy and she was fucking having fun. "Bullshit, I'm standin' right here in the hallway with you, talkin' to you right now!" And then her lips curved into a smile and she moved even closer and the heat of her surrounded him, he could smell her arousal, hear the beating rhythm of her heart and God it matched his own. And her voice was soft, suited for a lover's seduction, but her words only told him her truth. "Only because you accidentally bumped into me and banged me into the wall." Oh, Jesus, honey, I did not do that because if I had, trust me we wouldn't be talking, we'd still be banging against the wall right now. "Jesus, Marie - " And she was so close and it would take so little to just reach out and pull her against him. "What is it, Logan? Talk to me." And her voice was still soft and seductive and he did not want to talk to her. Many things he wanted to do at that moment. Talking was not one of them. "If this is about the other day," and her lips quirked again. She damn well knew that this was about more than the other day. "It's fine. I'm fine. After all, it's not as if you're the first person ever to touch me." He stilled, his mind raged with one question: Who was touching her? Thoughts of taking her disappeared as a torrent of possessive fire bled through him at the thought of someone else taking her. "And just who else has been touchin' you?" And he was calm; oh he was in control. She backed away, the smile faltering, "I didn't mean - " "That Cajun guy? Him? That German guy? The blue one? Who, Marie?" And his voice was deadly serious. His voice was death. She'd lost control of the situation. That was clear by the fidgeting, the lack of control she was exhibiting now and he smiled a feral smile. "Who?" "It doesn't matter, Logan." And then the fidgeting stopped. "Look, I was just saying - I was just trying to make you jealous," and then she almost whispered, "It was nothing." Raising her eyes, she met his gaze, her voice now soft again, a sweet yearning in its depths, "It wasn't you." When she uttered those words, the anger died, even the lust. All he could feel was need and want - not of body, but of her heart and her soul. She was gazing up at him, her eyes were clear and displaying every bit of love she felt for him. God, she loved him. This wasn't a game she was playing; this was the real thing for her and she was  Fuck, she wasn't playing. And he didn't know how to deal with that; didn't know how to deal with the emotion inside of him right now when she looked at him like that. It wasn't passion; it wasn't desire running through him. It was need. Her lips were parted and she began to say his name, but his need was too great and he brushed his fingers against the strands of her hair, stopping her mid-word, as he fingered the pale, lavender scarf laying against her throat. He wasn't even thinking. The material was lifted against her lips, and his head was bent before he even realized it was happening - he was just doing, just following instinct. She tasted sweet beneath the flavor silk, her mouth opening beneath his and he felt something indefinable stretch throughout his body as her hands rested against his arms, as he cupped her face within the freedom of his palm, as her lips met his own in sweetness, in tenderness, in love. And there was nothing casual about it. Because it was Marie. So he pulled away, and he met her gaze for a moment, letting her in, telling his truth before instinct kicked back in the other direction. Fear, plain as the day was born, ran through his blood, running roughshod over that indefinable something. He pushed her away. He had to; positively needed to. The hurt was there in her eyes but he couldn't care, wouldn't allow himself to care as he turned his back and walked away. Because there was nothing casual about it. Not one fucking thing.