Getting There Epilogue

A/N: A highly unnecessary epilogue to Getting There, because sometimes we need more smut! heh. And L&M were being so cute. Who can resist?:D

It is the morning after...

She woke up to his hands on her, which she would take any day over just his eyes. Mmm. Tracing, featherlight over her neck, cupped around her breasts, then lightly over her overused nipples. She inhaled a little—they were sore—and his hands moved lower, up and over her stomach, her hips, paused a little over the light bruises there.

She cracked open an eye. He had just touched her neck a little, where he'd bit her last night. It was solemn—too solemn.

'I marked you,' he noted, eyes dark. His thumb pressed gently to her lower lip, slightly swollen.

She didn't quite know how he meant it. 'It's ok.' They were speaking in undertones, semi-whispers—strange morning hush—and she moistened her lips. She wished she trusted the stillness in him this morning.

'I'll heal it.' Decision made, brooking no refusals, and his hand curled round her neck to cup her more firmly.

'No,' she shook out of sleepiness. She didn't want that. 'It doesn't hurt. It's ok.'

His eyes were unfathomable, but he measured her for a second, ran a firmer hand over her, and she found it did hurt. Especially when she moved. But she was beginning to react to his touch, too, arched up a little, found his wandering hand and laced it with hers to tug him closer.

He hovered above her, and the anticipation of pressing into him, skin-to-skin was enough at that moment. She licked her lips, and she saw how his gaze was drawn there.

'Turn it on,' he said low. She was disturbed by the intensity of it because it was a bit too hard. She wanted him to look at her, and she ran her fingers along his jaw, tangled and tugged, and he did, his eyes narrowing on hers.

'It's ok,' she repeated with some emphasis, slight caress. He didn't react, didn't move, and she was…somewhat uncomfortable bringing it up—didn't want him to misread, was afraid she might say something that would ruin it. 'I—I want to touch you.' She halted. 'Last time, it was a few hours before…I don't want to waste this.'

There was a shift, though neither of them moved for a minute, and he frowned, ever so slightly, weighed her up again—distant again—so she found his hand, whispered, 'It's ok,' again, kissed his fingers, lightly bit his thumb.

She felt the hitch of his breath, and his mouth firmed. He ducked his head to the mark on her neck, pressed and kissed, sucked. She moaned faintly.

And then she was scooped up, being carried into the bathroom, and she allowed herself to relax into the hollow of his shoulder. It was too early to really deal with whatever strangeness came after yesterday, and she was sure that would all still be there when she decided she was going to wake up for real. For now, Logan seemed to have dropped the strange stillness, the healing thing, and was generally just warm and hairy and this crook of his shoulder smelled very nice. Which she may or may not have said out loud. Heh.

'Shut up,' he said, sounding gentle and tired.

'Mmmm,' she smiled inarticulately into his skin. He was very cute when he was annoyed. She was vaguely aware of him sitting down, maneuvering something one-handed with a bit of muttering. masterful, she was sure he could figure things out by himself. She could feel herself drifting off again...

'Hey…' He sounded serious but less intense this time. Their heads were close, she in his lap, but he didn't meet her gaze, instead gesturing over her shoulder with his chin. She blinked and turned and saw bubbles.

'You drew me a bath?' she smiled sleepily.

'Get in.'

The water was just right. She sank in and was even more surprised when he slipped in too. And it felt so good, the bath, the bubbles, Logan breathing behind. She leaned back against him, enjoyed the absent tangle of their legs. Heaven. And it was helping the ache.

'Thank you,' she breathed, and his arms came round her, cupped her breasts gently instead of possessively now, meant to soothe, and she sighed. God, she could get used to this. They should wake up like this every morning…

Wait—morning?! She bolted up. Class. School. Kids. What time was it? They hadn't set an alarm!

Logan's arms banded painfully round her at the spontaneous thrashing until she flopped back against him, just as quickly remembering. 'Saturday,' she breathed, closing her eyes. His grip loosened a tad, and she chuckled wryly at her still-slow brain. Call it hardwiring. 'We should always fight on a Friday.'

Maybe he didn't see the joke. He certainly didn't loosen up any. 'Lay down,' he pressed, which she already was, but she obligingly settled deeper into the disappearing bubbles, covering his arm with hers, and eventually, the tension left him, too. Trust bubble baths to do that.

The water grew a little tepid, and she realized they must have been in there for quite some time. Logan must be bored by now, hungry, too. Come to think of it, so was she. But she felt relaxed now and awake and…cared for. Logan didn't normally do baths.

She twisted round in his arms, slid down a little, peered up at him, his expression smooth and easier, maybe somewhat guarded.

'Guess we'll have to leave at some point, huh?' She wagged pruny fingers at him playfully, gauging his mood. But something about just him and his dubious eyeing of her fingers, the bubbles and the bath and last night and just…him, and she was smiling for no reason, and after a second, his grin deepened, too. He reached out to finger her throat, began to play with her hair—half-wet, and she was half-submerged, but she'd never felt more beautiful.

But she did feel that they needed to have this conversation at some point. She didn't just mean they'd have to leave the bath. She rested her head on his knee. Distractions, distractions. 'So—what happens then?' She persisted, bobbing slightly. 'When we have to go outside, leave our room. Go back to regular work again.'

She'd known that his smile would leave, but she hadn't expected the sudden scowl, splash, yank.

'I said you're MINE,' he growled, grabbing her by the neck, pulling her forward roughly. Water sloshed over the side.

She wrapped her legs around him for a little leverage, braced herself with hands on his shoulders, and he was eyeing her with a menacing expression. Maybe the one he'd been storing up all morning.

'You're jealous,' she blinked stupidly, and at his aggravated growl, 'I mean, still.' She hadn't known how knee-jerk that would be, even after last night—found it a little endearing, this instant jealousy, but knew that endearing would not survive endless repetition. Better clear this up now. She still had to work with Scott. They both did.

'Well, I'm certainly not Scott's,' she declared. He huffed a little, brows still forbidding, and she chuckled, puzzled at how little he got it. She bent down to his ear, bit the lobe lightly. Breathy voice—only slightly exaggerated: 'Who could even look at Scott when Wolverine is in the room?' Satisfying to hear his little groan, to feel his hands clutching, his hard length thickening against her as she rubbed up against him.

She laughed and pulled back to find that hard glint in his eye. 'Keep going,' he spoke a little grudgingly, and she froze uncertainly for a second, somewhat surprised he needed convincing—still—and not entirely sure how much further she could go. But on the other hand, he was so very cute.

'Well…who but the Wolverine could have this hair?' She buried her nose in it, luxuriating in its softness, springiness between her fingers. Shivered as his hands twined round her back. 'This manly, untamed, virile, bristly hair.'

She was pinched—hey!—and she squealed, and so, ok, maybe that had been a bit overdone, but she was only half-kidding. She bent with a smile and continued, 'This fierce chin—' scraped her teeth over it lightly, licked and enjoyed the rasp of stubble—'sculpted jaw.' She allowed the word 'muttonchops' to be swallowed by beard. She'd always loved the sound of it.

He groaned: arousal or corniness? Probably both, and she was sniggering softly, as she moved down, letting her hands wander self-consciously over water-flecked shoulders and slippery arms.

'How could Scott compete with this rugged physique? These rippling pecs, these bulging biceps—' Rubbing them down and over as they did ripple and bulge. 'Oh, yeah, I like that, sugar,' she encouraged. And he had looked something between chagrined and embarrassed, but now he looked surprised. 'I've always liked that,' she confessed, and his eyes darkened, she had to look way.

'A-and these abs…' She had run out of superlatives. She wasn't good at this kind of talk in any case. And there was something mesmerizing about her hands streaking drops against his skin, beading with sweat, the drop's eager fall at his twitching and irregular breaths. From such light touches. She trailed down his sides and wandered further. 'Such long legs…' He squeezed her buttocks in reaction, and her breath caught.

He looked darkly self-satisfied in a way that made her crack a smile.

She laced his fingers with hers and squeezed, too. 'These hands.' She knew the skin between his knuckles was sensitive, began slow tracing in and out, watching sharp pleasure overcome his remaining wariness.


'And this.' She dipped her hand into still-warm water and wrapped around him firmly. 'How could Scott possibly compete with this?'

A wicked smile she couldn't help peeped out.

'You can definitely take him, sugar.'

He growled, bucked his hips a little; she felt the brush and heat of him.

'And even when you're not there…you know I'm always thinking of you,' she breathed, getting more turned on just thinking about it.

'Darlin',' he groaned, cupping her breast, and she tilted her hips forward, sought him at her entrance, eyes closed as she slid down on him, enveloped him.

'So it'll be ok,' she continued shakily, beginning to move on him, 'When we leave the room. And on Monday—on-on Tuesday…' He nipped at the curve of her breast, caused her to gasp. He leered, quick lick to the nipple, and she shuddered.

''Cause I get you,' he pressed her forward.

He held her hips, held her still until she answered. Just deep dark eyes. 'You got me,' she agreed.

And they might need another bath after this—would definitely need more water, but it'd be worth it.

She rested her head limply on his shoulder. It was still a good spot.

'But not yet. We don't' leave the room yet,' he pursued tiredly, but the former weightiness was gone. 'It's only Saturday.'

She smiled. 'Good plan, sugar.'