Page 42
by
Beth


Disclaimer: All canon based X-Men characters belong to Fox and/or Marvel. Any other characters belong to me. I am making no money, just enjoying playing in the sandbox.

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It was just another night, but he wasn't there. And that was annoying her, how was she supposed to sleep when he wasn't there? It wasn't that she was dependent on him, it was just she loved the feel of him next to her.

Okay, maybe she was slightly dependent. But damn, they had been gone three days now, on a mission that should have lasted only two. He was supposed to be home by now.

She heard the phone ring in their bedroom and moved silently through the sitting room to the second line on the phone next to the bed. "Logan? Where the hell are you?" She hadn't meant to say that. But it came out anyway.

"Marie, I swear, Scooter says he's just about done fixing the Blackbird soon. Real Soon."

"Are you all right?" She hated that he would go on missions without her. She and Jean had discussed it before, in great detail. Neither one of them felt that their boys could quite handle it all when they weren't there. Sometimes, like this last mission, she and Jean were proven correct.

"Yeah, I'm... okay."

She knew that hesitation. Goddamnit. "Okay. How are you really?" She could actually hear the wheels turning in his head. Soft sell it, she won't see the damage...

"Marie, come on. It's nothing big... I'll be well healed by the time we get back home." She steeled her resolve to not make the lecture she knew he must be waiting for.

"I won't say it Logan. You can make it up yourself and say it to yourself." She heard him snort, but she knew he would be wearing a relieved grin. It was all part of being with him, having to accept that he would never take being injured seriously, even if it gave her a heart attack.

"Thanks, darlin'. So... what are you wearin'?"

She fell back on the bed, lying on the duvet, the feel of soft silk around her legs and feet reminding her of their early days together, the days when she would go to bed fully dressed. She didn't miss them, though sometimes, just for kicks they would both dress up in their 'sex suits'. Making love with Logan was an experience, and when he had to be creative, he was in his element. "What am I wearing? Page 42." She could hear his sharply indrawn breath and the quiet moan that followed it.

There was also what she thought was "Godfuckingdamntechnologybreaksdown...."

"Page 42, huh?" Logan's voice had that thick, breathless quality that always meant he was thinking dirty thoughts. Those were exactly the kind of thoughts she preferred him to think - when his life wasn't in danger. "God Damn It Cyke! Marie... baby, I have to go... I'll call again in a few minutes, okay? Love ya, darlin'."

"All right Logan, I love you too..." She was talking to dead air. Damn it anyway. She knew he'd be as good as his word though, so she went back into the sitting room, turning off lights. She came back to the bedroom, and looked at the built in fireplace and sighed. It was good to live in a rich man's mansion, all the extras.

She went over and lit the kindling, and soon had a fire going. She took the cordless phone and the pillows from the bed and sat on the rug in front of the fire. The rug was their private joke, made to look like a tigerskin. Logan called it the 'Sabrerug'. She got more comfortable, until she was lying on the floor, pillows beneath her head and around her, the fur of the soft rug poking through her toes.The phone rang again, and she picked it up. "Yes, Page 42."

He moaned softly again.

"So... I know what you're wearing. What are you doing?"

"I'm doing exactly what you think I'm doing, Logan. I'm lying here on the Sabrerug, with Page 42 on and pillows all around me, with a roaring fire, waiting for you to get the fuck home."

"It shouldn't be too long now, baby. Cyke promised."

"Oh, that's peachy." You'd think that a Lockheed Jet wouldn't breakdown, wouldn't you. She thought for a moment. "So, what are you wearing?" She grinned as she said it; thinking that if they saw this on cable they would be snickering up a storm.

"My uniform, of course... well, what's left of my uniform."

"Left of it? Logan you said...."

"Marie, I'll be fine... it was just a guy with a knife. It was like a Swiss-Army thing. No biggie."

She closed her eyes as she sighed, and wondered if other women had to deal with this. Did an accountant's wife ever have to worry that her husband would have to deal with ninjas, mutants, and other foes? Hell, even some bystander with an attitude and a gun could be a problem if they were part of the whole 'Kill the Mutants' movement.

And she knew better than to believe 'Swiss-Army knife'. In Logan-speak that could mean anything from a broadsword to a katana or wakisashi. She may be younger than Logan but she hadn't been born yesterday.

"Marie?"

"Yes, Logan?"

"Just page 42?"

"Yes Logan."

"On the rug, next to the fire?"

"Yes Logan"

"Ohfuckmethisisgoddamnedstupid... touch yourself for me?"

She giggled. "You're kidding, right Logan?"

"No. Touch your breasts for me..."

"Through Page 42, or beneath it?"

"Through it for now. Touch your right breast first."

She could hear him breathing, and hoped that he was alone in the phone booth...

But she did what he asked anyway... games with Logan could be fun.

"Okay... I'm touching it."

Ý"How does it feel?"

"Like I'm in a really crappy soft core HBO porno movie, that's how it feels Logan."

"Then you're not doing it right."

"Oh, I'm not, am I?"

"No. Imagine it's my hand. Touch your nipple through the silk... then move your hand slowly down, then up... move it up the slope, then back to your nipple. Give it a little pinch. You know... how you like me to do it."

Okay... she knew that he knew how much she loved it when he started foreplay like this. But damn it, she was alone and he was somewhere ... NOT HERE. Damnit!

But it was starting to feel kinda nice.

"Marie?"

"Yes Logan?"

"How does it feel now?"

"Nicer. Better when you do it."

He breathed in, swore some more.

"I know darlin' I will be soon. We're just about there, I think."

She was getting somewhere too... she had, while imagining his large hands, so solid and firm, the bone and the metal of those hands... oh my...

"Marie?"

"Ummmm....."

"Marie... on the other breast already baby?"

"Shut up Logan."

"How does it feel now?"

"It feels good..."

"Okay... I want you to go underneath Page 42 now. Move your hand under it, and start touching your skin. Begin at the top of your breasts, and make those swirls you love so much when I do it with my tongue."

Oh Hell. Oh Damn. She loved that part.

She thought of the times when he would lay there, sometimes at her side, sometimes between her legs. Not in her, just on top, using his strong arms to hold some of his weight off her body, but crushing her ever so slightly. His head would lower, but he would always grin at her first, the message was clear, what ever he would do to her? There was a little bit of the Wolf to her Wolverine.

He would kiss her nipples first, kind of Logan's way of telling them what was to come. Then he would use his tongue to draw lines on her, the delicate flesh always reacting with goosebumps and hardened nipples. Logan was an artist with that tongue, and she never minded being his canvas. It never failed to excite her when Logan did those long, sweeping strokes.

Every. God. Damned. Time.

He would kiss under her breasts, where sweat gathered during the day, smelling all the scents that made her Marie. She had once asked him, with his senses, if it would be better for her to shower before he came to her. His answer had been typical Logan, but she had taken it to mean that he'd rather she didn't try to sanitize herself.

His response had been typical Logan: "The way you smell just fucking turns me on baby."

She remembered how his lips felt as she touched herself. She thought about how his tongue would curl slightly as he licked her, how his beard felt as it touched her... how he would rub his distinctive muttonchops on her breasts, like a cat marking it's owner's hand. The beard burns he left her with a momentary discomfort. He would start kissing and licking her then, up to her neck, leaving those hickies he always left when they made love; he couldn't seem to leave her unmarked.

Unharmed, but never unmarked.

He would move to her mouth next, kissing her ever so slightly, his tongue outlining her lips, only to demand entrance. She never denied that. They would start the dance then, tongue to tongue. If he wasn't already on top of her by then, he would be soon, as tongue met tongue, pelvis would always strain to meet pelvis. Even her toes felt like they should seek him out.

"Marie?" She barely remembered the phone at her left ear, she was thinking of the times when he was here with her.

"Logan?"

She could hear him snort, amused by her confused reaction.

"How do your breasts feel now?"

"Soft. Hard. Soft."

"Okay... take your hand and bring it up to your neck... caress your neck... up and back down to your breasts..."

She did as he asked, wondering again why they hell he wasn't here. Fighting sure as hell wasn't a good enough reason.

The feel of the silk of Page 42 combined with the feel of her fire-warmed skin was turning her on. A Lot.

"Marie."

She thought about the morning three days ago before he left. They had made love, and after he had just laid with his head on her stomach, breathing heavily, looking kinda dopey with his hair all matted and askew. His points weren't that pointy that morning. Well, the ones in his hair, anyway. The other point was just fine, thankyouverymuch.

She heard someone call her name.

Oh, yeah. Logan. Phone.

"Marie?" Logan asked again.

"Still here sugar. I'm still here."

"Good. Now take your hand, and touch your lips. Think of me kissing you."

She moaned softly.

"Baby, I want you to think that your hand is mine... and I'm touching your lips with it. What would you want me to do next?"

"I'd want you to give me your hand..."

"Then I'd take your fingers, into my mouth... one by one. And I'd swirl my tongue around them the way that you like. You know... ending with a lick?"

This time he groaned. "Oh. Yeah, that does sound good. Oh yeah."

She smiled. If they were going to play this game, and she had no problems with the thought, they would play it both ways. She *really* hoped he was alone in that phone booth.

"Logan."

"Put your hand inside your uniform."

"Marie..."

"Do it."

"Goddamnwomen"

"Logan."

"Done. I have my hand in my uniform. Happy?"

"Good boy. Smart move. Now I want you to touch your nipples too. I want you to imagine it's *my* mouth on you. That I'm biting you the way you like..."

"FuckMarie..." He growled. God she loved that.

He growled again, he knew she had to be smiling at this point.

"Logan... I have my hand on my breasts again. And I'm thinking it's you. Your hands. And that hand is running over the silk... and then inside it. And it feels wonderful. Skin to skin. I can feel the calluses on your fingertips. And it's making my nipples oh so hard."

He growled again.

"Now I want you to remember how my hands feel when they are stroking your chest. Beginning at your shoulders. Imagine I'm below you, looking up... you're straddling my thighs, leaning over me slightly, and my hands are moving over your shoulders, to your chest... rubbing..."

"And I can feel the metal on your bones, you're so hard and heavy." She knew he would understand that double entendre.

"And I start running my hands all over you... from your stomach to your hair. I run my hands through your hair. And it's like you're being groomed. So soft.... Back and forth through your hair..."

"Marie..." The big strong Wolverine ended with a whimper.

"And now I want you to remember what Page 42 looked like... and how my body would feel under yours... the silk would be touching you. Your cock would be rubbing against it as you straddled me. Your thighs would be touching it. Your hands would be touching it, as you touched me. You would rub your face against the silk as you rubbed your cheeks against my breasts."

She knew what he would look like now. A flush on his cheeks, and his eyes would be heavy. His hair would be matted and fluffed by her hands, and her fingernails would have left scratches on his back. He would be staring at her like she was the only thing on his planet, and if anyone tried to knock on their door, he would probably impale them. His cock would be getting harder... she would be able to feel it there, nestled comfortably at the juncture of her thighs. He would be inhaling deeply, and he would be constantly, endlessly, joyfully touching her. The muscles on his chest would be rippling in that way that made her want to devour him. His arm muscles would be bunched, he could easily hold himself up with one arm, but he would be using both arms to support him, rubbing his pelvis against hers, trying to absorb as many sensations as he could.

She continued to touch herself with the hand that wasn't holding the phone as she talked to Logan, her hand continuing on her breasts, then moving down... she could feel the wetness, and smell herself. If Logan was here, oh... he'd been like a dog in heat. He wouldn't stop at humping her leg thank god though.

"Marie."

Once again her reverie was interrupted.

She could hear the determination in his voice as he struggled to take control back.

"Where is your hand now, Marie?"

She flushed even more as she realized, that she had started to touch between her legs, lightly touching her lips... up and down...

"Guess, Logan. Guess."

"Ahh... Touch your clit, baby. How does it feel?"

She ran her hand up slightly, touching the bundle of nerves.

"It feels... tingly... firm... swollen. Damn it Logan. Why aren't you HERE?" The last came out as a moan.

"I'll be there soon baby, I promise. I always keep my promises, don't I? Touch it again. Then rub yourself up and down."

"Logan... what are you doing?"

"I'm touching myself through this fucking uniform trying very hard not to make a mess while I listen to you."

"Logan."

"Yes, Marie."

"Make a mess sugar."

"Marie..."

"Logan... I'm very ready for you. I want you. Now. If you were here, you would smell me down the hall. I'm lying on our rug, in front of the fire, wearing Page 42 and a smile, and I want to fuck your brains out."

"Damnit Marie. I'll be home soon, you know that I always keep my promises, don't you?"

Yes, sugar, you kee...." the rest was lost in a keening cry as she touched her clit, putting just the right amount of pressure on it. But it wasn't enough yet.

She wasn't there yet.

It felt good... but she wasn't there yet. She ran her hands up to her breasts again... pinching her nipples, then running back down the line that was all but tattooed on her body... from her clit to her breasts, to her labia, to inside the outer lips to caress the smaller inner ones... Damn it. Hehadtogowhydidhehavetogo? She shifted, laying herself out more, the silk of Page 42 making it easier to slide down... she cocked her head to so she could use both hands, all the while talking into the phone; telling him how it felt, what she wanted from him when he got back. Then she was just moaning to him.

She could feel it coming.

Her mind kept going back three days, Logan, body on hers, her hands ruffling through the hair on his chest. The hair that fanned across his chest, then narrowed to his waist until it became pubic hair. As she moved her hands to his smooth back he thrust into her, and her nails bit deeply into his quickly healing flesh. That's how he liked it. He wanted to be marked.

Logan would be muttering her in ears, telling her all the things he wanted to do to her, wanted her to do to him. He would be so heavy, the sight of his body never giving a truly accurate gauge of his weight. She loved the weight of him on top of her or beneath her, either one. And everytime he pressed against her he would move his body slightly up, so his cock would drag against her clit deep and swollen within her.

"Damn it Logan... " She knew he knew what she was doing, he made a ragged laugh into the phone.

And she remembered his face, how it tightened when he came, his hazel eyes closing, then opening, meeting her brown ones. She remembered how it felt when he would make that thrust that would send her over the edge, he always knew, whether it was scent, touch, or just the primal urge of an animal needing to mate - he always knew, and always struck deep to send her over the edge.

The phone fell from her ear as she touched her clit, rubbing, touched her breasts, caressing.

Remembering.

And with a moan that could have been his name, went over the edge.

It was a few minutes before she realized she was now lying on the phone. That Logan was listening to her satisfy herself. She brought the phone back up to her ear.

"Logan?"

"Did we have fun Marie?"

"You know it sugar. When are you going to get back?"

"Soon baby. Soon."

"I hope so."

"Are you still on the rug?"

"Yes, still here... half dressed in Page 42." She grinned, she couldn't help it.

He sighed raggedly, "Oh damn."

"I agree with ya there sugar."

"Marie... Close your eyes again."

"Logan... I don't want to do this without you again..."

"Come on baby, do it for me? It'll be fun. I promise."

She muttered under her breath, wishing she could have him here and horny, instead of there and horny. "All right, I've closed my eyes."

"I want you to imagine that I'm back home already. That you've already come once, that you had me on the phone listening to every cry, that I was listening hard, trying to hear your heartbeat as you came..."

She smiled, eyes still closed.

"And that can smell you, even down the hall as I walk toward our room. That you are giving off the most wonderful scent, but it's missing something. It's missing what happens when it's our scents combine. That rich, heavy smell of sex that always hangs over us after we've been going at it like mink in heat."

She giggled this time, her hands going unbidden to her body again, caressing, the thought of 'going at it like mink in heat' causing her blood to thicken.

"And when I get to our room, I can hear you, you're muttering to yourself, because when I hung up the phone the last time, I told you how hard I was, that I couldn't wait to get back to you, that all I could think about on the flight back was you, in front of the fire, on the rug, wearing Page 42. And how I told you that Cyke was lucky to make it to his next birthday for keeping me from you."

She laughed out loud at this, the long-standing joke of 'Logan's horny, get outta the way' amusing her.

"Marie?"

"Yes Logan?"

"Open your eyes, darlin'"

He sounded closer that time.

Her eyes sprang open.

He was there. Standing beside the fireplace mantle, his hazel eyes reflecting only naked hunger for her.

He folded the cell phone in his hand, throwing it in the direction of the chaise lounge in the corner. He grinned at her, and just ... stared. She was the best thing he had ever seen in his life. But then she always was. All these years, and the sight of her was still enough to drive him to his knees, his blood hot and sluggish in his veins.

And she was particularly lovely this evening.

Marie was wearing Page 42. Goddamn.

Page 42 was a silk robe in the colors of a peacock's tail. The greens, grays, purples, and blues blending and shimmering as she moved. Every movement reflecting a different colored pattern, cool and smooth. He could hear the silk shift, a gentle sound - the sound he would always, even if he lived until time ended, associate with Marie. That sound of silk moving on her skin had been there that first night they had ever spent together, all those years ago, when she came to him dressed in silk from head to toe to protect him from her then-uncontrolled skin.

As she got up and moved toward him Page 42 swirled around her legs, the silk glowing in the light of the fire. The belt was now loosely tied at her waist, creating a deep V between her breasts, and with every step toward him he could see the hair between her thighs, smell her arousal.

He kicked off the boots, throwing the gloves after the cell phone, his eyes never once leaving her.

She had lied to him.

She wasn't just wearing Page 42 and a smile, she was wearing his tags. The Wolverine part of his brain, the part that wanted to howl every time he saw her, was making noises of supreme satisfaction. Those tags between her breasts, such a simple thing that meant so much to both of them. She was his mate - she wore his brand.

Marie had been startled to see him there. He looked like he generally looked after a mission. Like he wanted to fuck, kill, and eat something.

Primal Logan.

She reached him and ran her fingers over the cuts and tears in his uniform, including the long one across his chest that she just knew had left a gash on him. She couldn't help but wince.

"Swiss Army knife, huh?"

He didn't reply; he was focusing on her chest. That was okay with her. She reached up to caress his face, leaned up and gave him a sweet kiss. His arms went around her at once. They were so solid, so strong.

Marie moved away, leaning back to start pulling the zipper down on the leather shirt of the uniform. As she brought the zip down she kissed his chest, tonguing in between kisses until she was slightly bent at the waist. She smiled flirtatiously up at him as she moved to her knees, massaging his already swollen cock through the leather of the pants. She tightened her hand around him, lifting him up gently, listening to the in drawn breath.

"This isn't gonna be easy, sugar."

He removed the shirt and smiled ferally down at her. "If it was easy, it wouldn't be as much fun, would it?"

She started the zipper of the pants down. Damn, he was primed. He must have been enjoying listening to her performance earlier. She pulled the leather out in an attempt to not hurt him. He was making little moaning sounds in the back of his throat. She loved having this effect on him.

Marie finished with the zipper, smiling as she looked at his cock, engorged, but still held to his body by the pants. She pulled at the legs, first giving a good yank, just to put that edge that he enjoyed on the moment. She told him to lift one leg, then the other, and removed the pants.

When he stood there completely nude, for Logan hated wearing any kind of underwear under the uniform, and she had given up trying to make him years ago, he was sex personified.

Logan's eyes opened, and she could see his nostrils flare as he took in all the scents. She smiled up at him, and leaned forward and took his cock into her mouth. She couldn't deep throat him, but she let her tongue play with the head, then removed him and licked and massaged the shaft, one hand going back and forth to play with his balls.

He was more than ready tonight. Apparently the foreplay on the phone had worked both ways. It was just a few moments before he grasped her upper arms and dragged her up his body, Page 42 falling here and there between them.

The silk of Page 42 and the even more wonderful silk of her skin were combining to touch him in ways that were driving him to the brink of madness. He watched her face in the fire, her hair fanning out as he laid her on the rug, the mahogany highlights shining, the white streak stark. Her welcoming smile, that look of total acceptance, served only to make him more excited. Logan followed her down, straddling her, slowly untying the silk belt, separating Page 42 to reveal the Marie beneath.

Oh damn.

His callused fingers moved to her breasts as his lips moved back to hers. Her hands were in his hair, then his shoulders, reaching down to grasp his ass, pulling him closer to her. Logan broke the kiss, moving down to play with her breasts with his tongue and lips, his hand following the curves of her body, moving endlessly lower, finally coming to her molten core. He found her clit, and with strong fingers made gentle, touched and softly clasped.

She was ready, he could feel her heartbeat accelerating, could hear her blood pounding her veins. He moved over her, and slowly, ever so slowly, slide into Marie. Slid home.

Logan stayed still for a minute, just enjoying the feeling of being within her again. Then he starting thrusting, pulling his body closer to her, feeling her running her hands all over his body, his back, his ass, his neck, pulling at his hair.

Marie loved this, Logan's chest hair against her nipples, his cock deep within her, his mouth moving all over her face, then coming back to her lips to war with her again, his tongue mimicking what his lower body was doing with hers. As her nails made furrows in his back, he reared up, pushing their pelvises closer, his cock deeper.

It wasn't going to last long this time, she was just about to go over the edge. Finding that endless delight his body always assured her of.

She reared up as lips came down on her neck, she could feel his teeth nipping at her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, and bit deep of his shoulder as she came. And with that pain meeting his pleasure, Logan followed her into the abyss.

With a howl that became her name, he thrust into her, and she could feel the warmth of him being taken into her body. With that, and a few gentle thrusts more, almost as if he was making sure she was still there, still clasping him tightly, he partially collapsed on her, one elbow holding some of his weight off her. Momentarily exhausted, she nevertheless found the energy to run her hands through his hair as he rested his head between her breasts. He loved this, being groomed after sex, her hands soothing him, the endorphin high wearing slowly down, her constant touch a reassuring caress.

Recovered enough to move, Logan rolled himself over, keeping her with him, pulling her so she straddled him while he was still inside her, still partially erect.

She lay on his chest, rubbing her cheek against his chest hair.

"So, glad to be home sugar?" Marie looked up to catch his grin, as his arms went around her again.

"Oh, yeah darlin' you know it."

She grinned and lay on him, her hands moving to frame his face as she once again claimed his lips with hers, almost as a reflex, his body moved under hers. They continued like this for awhile, gentle kisses, caresses, passionate fires having only been banked, not satiated. Marie could feel Logan once again growing within her, lengthening, stretching her inner channel in the most delicious way.

Marie raised herself up, his hands supporting her waist, then moving to her breasts, never stopping, moving ceaselessly, tracing intimate patterns on her skin. She started to move on him, up and down, undulating, moving her body so that she could grasp him within her from any angle she could, grinding down on him to bring him deeper, then rising to feel the silk of him sliding against her own inner softness.

It was so good.

She could see by his face, as it reddened, his eyes clenching shut, his mouth pursing tightly, and she could feel the hard muscles with the harder skeleton beneath moving under her, that he was close. It was as if he was trying to go inside her totally, not just his hard penis, but his whole body. His hands moved down her body to the hidden and sensitively swollen bundle of nerves, which he touched, fondled, and even lightly pinched until she went over the edge, seeing nothing but light and the universe came down to two people on a rug in front of a fire.

All of Logan's senses were in overdrive; he inhaled the scent of her, of them, of their passion slicked skin. The feel of her inner muscles clasping him tightly; hearing her cries mixing with her heartbeat pounding just beneath her breast. The sight of her, looking like a goddess above him as she danced to an ancient rhythm, the shimmering silk still around her, fluttering madly, the colors like that of the sea, made him come. He reared up, driving into her once more, every muscle in his body tensing to the point of pain, and releasing in one smooth movement.

The last thing he felt was her body, boneless with satisfaction, falling on him. Marie's smooth and silky skin glued to his own sensitized skin by passion and their mingled sweat.

They lounged silently, the only sound their breathing, rousing every once in awhile to touch each other. Logan smiled as she rubbed her face against his chest as she napped for a few minutes. She was so beautiful.

A noise from the bedside table woke them out of their doze, a snuffling sound, one they both knew well was a prelude to a demanding cry. With an amused glance first at Logan, then at the baby monitor, Marie rolled off Logan. She fastened the belt of the robe she still, amazingly, wore and went to the smaller bedroom in their suite.

Logan got up off the floor, threw the pillows back on the bed and placed the phone in its stand on the nightstand. He padded to the sitting room and got a cold brown bottle of beer from the mini fridge and a cigar from the box on the desk. Going back through their room he put on a pair of loose boxers. Shrugging on a robe, he took his beer and cigar out to the private terrace off their bedroom.

Marie and the baby joined him in a few minutes. Carolina Jubilation Logan was three months old, but there was a gleam in her eyes that everyone knew was her father's.

"Look, Daddy's home!" At Marie's comment to their daughter Logan looked up. Marie smiled as that momentary look of panic flashed in his eyes, saying, 'Who, me?' Well, there was no doubt to anyone who looked at father and daughter together of who daddy was. Carrie's dark hair and hazel eyes were the reflection of her father. Carrie had Marie's nose and lips, and thank god, it looked like her features would follow her mother, but the child was unmistakably Logan's. Not to mention the growling sounds her hungry daughter was making could be traced directly to her father. Marie knew Logan would never doubt it, it was just the idea, even after all these years, of home and family could still on occasion seem odd to him.

Marie settled in his lap, the peacock colors of Page 42 waging an understated war with the brown, black, and yellow plaid of his old cotton robe. She bared a breast and began to nurse their growling and now-impatient daughter.

A feeling of calm moved over both of them as she nursed, his eyes never leaving the sight of Carrie at her breast, even when he took a swig of his beer or chewed the unlit cigar. He put down the cigar on the table and gently massaged Carrie's back as she fed, his pride at his little cub coming to the forefront again. She was amazing. Much smarter than her 'cousin', Charles Summers, but that was only to be expected, better genes and all that. And her grip when she would pull on his fingers, oh, she would be a strong one.

The feeding and burping finished, the munchkin was being gently rocked to sleep. Logan's eyes were mellow as he felt his wife sway gently, their cub's growling fading into murmurs and sleepy baby mutters. Sexual and emotional satisfaction were combining to lull even the fierce Wolverine to a state of restfulness. Marie looked up from the now sleeping baby, "Come on sugar, bed time."

She rose from his lap and went back into their suite, heading toward Carrie's room. Logan followed, putting the empty beer bottle in the bin, and regretfully putting the still unlit cigar on the desk. He padded back into their bedroom, banked the fire and pulled down the duvet. Marie followed a few minutes later, stopping at the dresser to pull on a light nightgown. Page 42 was thrown over the chaise lounge, coming to rest on top of Logan's old plaid robe. Checking, then double-checking the baby monitor, she crawled into bed beside him. His arms went around her, their bodies spooning unbidden, Marie's arms wrapping with his around her middle.

It was one of those calm moments before the storms that governed their lives as mutant superheros and mentors to the next generation of mutant superheros started to brew and rage again. Tomorrow there would be new battles to fight, new enemies to conquer and people to save.

But for now it was a calm moment.



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