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Logan remained silent. He saw Remi's eyes shining when he smiled the Rouge's face, how gently he took it into his arms and kissed, his shoulders going up like wings. He was a sneaky bastard, but he kissed Rogue standing on tiptoe, that told something of him – and of her.
Logan took a deep drag from the cigar he clenched between the teeth. How did Rogue do that? She got a wolf and made it into a meek sheep. Logan fell for her when he was hundred and a half, and she was only sixteen. She was no seducer, too honest, too open to seduce. But...
Remi grabbed her ass and Rogue slapped his hands. Her middle finger popped before his eyes, the smile on his face turned into a grin, his eyes hungry with desire, but he didn't want her body – he wanted her soul. That was a thing Rogue always did right, just like taking the life away from everyone she touched with her bare skin.
What did she say to Remi, looking around cautiously? Wait, there can be Logan, there must be Logan watching us, we should be careful... His finger on her lips like hers – between his cat-like eyes moment ago. No, Logan saw Remi's lips moving. Claws trembled in his knuckles, but he just leaned in the corner in the dark, staring at these two standing in the light, in the rain, in the motel's neon shining at the parking lot.
Remi wanted Rogue's soul just like Logan before him. There was something in her eyes what made you long for the girl, to become mad about her. You wanted her near so bad you didn't even remember yourself anymore. The way she took you into her heart nobody had. When Rogue loved Logan, he felt the power of her love filling him in. He felt like he could see the future and he saw it was alright, for him and his mutant girl it was still alright.
Rogue was sixteen when they met – or she lied and she was fifteen? Logan felt no difference, no chasm of age between them, the man fighting in the bars and the runaway girl. She understood too much for a teen, she looked to deep for a teen, she didn't look like a teen: too thoughtful, too curvy, too comprehensive and sensitive... but not too much edgy, to be honest. That was okay. That was the way Logan loved it. They were both fighters, weren't them? The wolves were not lisping, they bit.
I loved her more than the life itself, thought Logan, his heart burning in his chest. Wolverine was far too tough to be so damn weak, but Wolverine was also too tough to care about how or whom he was supposed to be. He loved Rogue, and Rogue kissed Remi once again, and held his hand, her hand in a black glove for she cared about that little French fuck, and they went up that blasted staircase right to the Heaven while Logan was on his own personal highway to Hell.
So, once again, Logan clenched his teeth, biting half of the cigar which had fallen into a puddle of rainwater before his boots, did I really want to know?