He is a god. He is a god and I am scum. Hell, we’re all scum compared to him. Well, maybe Scott might have a chance---- no. Nope. He’s scum too.

You know, I always figured Professor Xavier was a pretty smart guy. But now there is absolutely no doubt— the man is a genius. Setting up an advanced self-defense class for Logan to teach AND making it mandatory for all of us older students— sheer genius. Forget improving mutant/human relations, this class definitely gives vast improvements to my mutant/mutant relations fantasies.

“Rogue!”

I jump at his booming voice. Fuck, caught drooling.

“You payin’ attention?!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Jubilee snorts beside me. We have a secret theory that Logan has fantasies of his own. Drill-sergeant fantasies. But heaven help the soul that compares him to any kind of military to his face. On the other side of me I can actually feel Kitty trembling but I keep my eyes on the massive amount of man flesh currently glaring at me.

“You’d better be!” He growls in my face before beginning his pacing in front of all of us. He likes doing that, the pacing. It’s like he’s damn near stalking us: his next prey. “This is serious stuff, boys and girls! Mystique can kill you in about three different ways with just her big toe. You think you stand a chance, Ice Pop?!”

Poor Bobby. Logan always picks on him. “Uh...no?”

“You’re damn right no!” Logan screams in his face. Oh....ew...Bobby’s not even gonna wipe the spit off? He’s more scared of Logan than I thought.

“You ALL are pathetic!” Our mentor yells on, moving along the line again. “I could kill you all before any of you realized the snot sucker beside you is dead! You think I can kill you Ice-balls?!”

“Yes sir!” Bobby yells immediately this time. God, poor kid.....

“You think you’d know he was dead, Sparky?” He says with his back to us. I can’t see what he’s doing with his hands, but it can’t be good.
“No, sir, Wolverine, sir!” Jubilee salutes. Thank GOD he didn’t see that.

“Why’s that, Banana-head?”

“‘Cuz I’d already be dead, sir, Wolverine, sir!”

Logan quickly turns around and for a minute I think he is actually going to kill her. But then a smirk stretches across his face. Guess I’ll get to keep my best friend for a few more minutes.

“Ya damn right you would be, Twinkle. And what would you be, Stripes?”

Nine heads turn towards me. Shit, why the hell do I always stand by Jubilee? 7 out of 10 times she gets me in trouble. Except.... Oh, fuck it. They don’t call me Rogue for nothing. “...Very sad?”

I hear the nine distinct octaves of gasps before a very ‘tense’ Wolverine fills my vision. “You makin’ jokes in my class, kid?”

I’m sick. That’s all there is to it. Jubilee may be crazy but I’m just sick. This is the best class has been all period. Shit, he’s squishing my boobs he’s so close! “No, course not. I’d be *extremely* sad if Jubilee died.”

A few people actually dared to laugh under their breath. I think it was John and Peter, they were standing the farthest away. Brave souls. I can’t even remember if I have lungs any more, let alone any kind of laugh. Have to keep my eyes on his face though. Can’t blink... wow, he has really thick eyebrows. And the way they pinch together like that... very hot. Animalistic. Homicidal. Hot. Shit, I hope we all stink too much for him to smell me.

“What do you think she’d be, yellow?” Oh god. That hot growl hitting my face. Don’t moan, Rogue. Don’t moan.

“I think she’d be sad.” Jubilee nodded and smiled at me. Logan’s neck snapped around though and she quickly stumbled out, “And dead too. Very much dead. Dead to like the total tenth degree.”

“Damn right.” There’s that breath again. He must have smoked a cigar before class. Fuck, of course he had a cigar before class. He smokes a cigar before everything. Oh, shit, right pay attention. Eyes. His eyes. His piercing hazel eyes.... I think I’m having heart attack. If your chest is burning that means you’re having a heart attack, right?

“You gotta problem with being dead, Rogue?”

I nod. I’m sure I have words in my brain. Somewhere. Well, at least pieces of words. But the hell if I can get any of the out with him being that close. Half an inch. Half an inch and our noses would be touching, which means give or take a few millimeters more and our lips....

“Good! Then you’d better pay attention, eh?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just turns around and takes a few steps away. He could probably tell my heart stopped beating a few seconds ago. Nobody can say the Wolverine isn’t a creature of sympathy.

“Alright you little carpet scrapers,” Carpet scrapers? What the hell was that? I look over at Jubilee and she shrugs, shaking her head. “Now that we’ve got you warmed up–“

Several voices groaned loudly. I wanted to. A unit of one and all that, but I figure I’ve probably already used my ‘I’m-really-Logan’s-favorite-so-nah’ card for the day.

“Stuff it, pansies! You haven’t done SHIT yet,” He roars as he grabs a long wooden stick off the wall. Shit, he’s gonna beat the hell out of us and me without my ‘I’m-really-Logan’s-favorite-so-nah’ card.

“You dead yet? Huh?! Any of you? Any of you dead yet?!” You know, the pacing with the addition of the giant stick really isn’t that much more intimidating. It’s probably like that ‘there’s no such thing as more perfect’ kinda of thing.

“Push-pop, you dead yet!?”

“No, sir!” I really do feel very sorry for Bobby.

“Well then, I guess that means you little brats haven’t done shit yet. What about you, Pussy-cat, you think we’ve all had a great workout? Ready to call it a day?”

Oh, no. Not Kitty. Anyone but Kitty.

“I...I...”

Come on, Pryde. Just stay in the room. Don’t go through the floor and we’ve made a major improvement.

“ ‘I...I...’ You *what*?” Logan yells in her face. Any second now. She’s gonna be in the jet hanger, quivering. “You tryin’ to tell me you haven’t done SHIT yet?”

She frantically nods and he walks away. Oh, merciful Wolverine has shown himself again. If it had been any one else he’d have probably...well, I’m sure it would end in a very painful maneuver that the rest of us were suppose to commit to memory.

“Since we’re all in agreement that this class has really just begun, I guess we should get down to some actual defense training. Any of you whiny brats got a problem with that?”

We all mumble a chorus of no’s, and those of us that have been picked on personally up it to a ‘no, sir’.
“I didn’t think so. Rasputin, get your iron clad ass up here!”

I think Bobby probably just wet his pants in relief. It was pretty obvious he’d been holding it in the minute Logan picked up that staff. And, really, I think we all though he’d hit him with it.

“Tin-man here is goin’ to try and take this staff away from me. It happens to be my favorite fucking chunk of world in the whole damn world. You little knee biters think I’m gonna be very happy when he tries to take it?”

Oh, poor Peter...

“No, sir!”

“You’re damn right I’m not! In fact, I’m gonna be fuckin’ pissed! It’s my damn staff and I’ll be damned if I’m just gonna let some overgrown potato with acne take it from me without a fight!”

In Peter’s defense he doesn’t really have acne. Not anywhere that I’ve SEEN before, anyway.

“I suggest you plate up, big red, before you try and come and take MY staff.”

Wow, that’s three benevolent Wolverines in a ten minute time period. He must have had bacon for breakfast this morning. He’s always more mellow when he’s had his bacon. What’s it that that cook on tv says? ‘Pork fat rules’ or something like that. Personally a bowl of Lucky Charms just about does it for me. I love the little rainbows. Not that I’d tell anyone else that.

Uh oh... He’s gonna do it without his shirt? Oh god, he’s like unzipping the top to his uniform in slow motion or something. Maybe its just me. Maybe seeing things happen in reduced speed is the second symptom to a heart attack. Its final. I’m not doing to learn a *damn* thing today. Besides that Logan gets me hot between the leather. And I already knew that.

Phew. At least he’s wearing a wife-beater. It’s not much, but hopefully it will be enough to stave off insanity. And that heart attack that’s just waiting for the opportune moment to kick in.

Peter lunges, like he’s just gonna take it from him. Course that doesn’t end well. I’d almost bet my entire Rainbow Brite VHS set that none of this is going to go well for Peter. Not with that being Logan’s favorite damn stick in the whole world. But when it comes to the Wolverine’s self-defense class the ‘better him than me’ principle is always a given.

Man do I love watching Logan beat the shit out of people. Watching the muscles in his arms move, the deep grooves in them contracting... its all I can do to just not yell out ‘fuck yes, sugah, more!’ right here and now. No, I’m not going to. I’m going to stare at the dance of muscles under that thin white cotton stretched tight across his mile wide back and try my *damnest* to not drown in my own drool.

I believe I have mentioned that the man is a god. He’s the best kind of god. He’s like god of the sex gods. My Wolverine could rip Zeus a few new ones. And we should all bow down before him. No, just me. I should be the only one to bow and worship him..... Fuck, I’m a real slut for being captain of Team Virgin. And my teams sucks, unfortunately not literally.

Oh, its so much worse, and SO much better when he sweats. I fully get why guys like white t-shirt contests. That spot down low on his back is enough to do me in, where it trails down into the waist of his leather pants...Shit, I can just imagine that little drop of sweat sliding, sliding, sliding...

That heart attack is gonna start any second now. Because I’m suffering heart murmurs now and that has to be the third and final symptom. I’m a dead woman. I’m just going to spontaneously combust. They’ll call it ‘Prolonged Virginitis’ and warn teenage girls against it all around the world for years to come.

Right now Peter probably thinks he has it rough, what we the number of times Logan’s wacked him with the staff alone. But he does not know torture and pain. Standing here and having to watch Logan fight? The way his face gets all intense and those lips of his curl up... Shit, having to control ones self to not yell out ‘fuck me, damnit!’ is real pain.

Oh man, his forearms are the worst. I have a sick obsession with them, I’ll admit it. Those long muscles that run along it, they way they jerk all the time... Its my porn. That’s all there is to it. Jubilee can keep her videos, all I need is just one of Logan’s forearms and I’m a goner. A sad, little, pathetic melted goner. Especially when he whips out the claws... there’s my heart condition flaring up again. I don’t suppose he’ll use the claws on Peter? No, probably not. Fuck.

“Alright, ladies!”

Wow. I don’t think Peter even got to touch the stick.

“I hope you were watching! You’re gonna partner up and grab a baton off the table over there. Ten points if you geniuses can guess what you’re going to be doing. See if we can’t knock some baby teeth outta ya.”

He throws his precious stick down, evidently changing his mind about its worth. We all take it as the ‘go’ sign and I grab Jubilee’s hand and we all start towards the table.

“Not you, Rogue!” He yells from over everyone’s head. “You’re comin’ with me.”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Uh.... Oh, yeah. Oh shit! Everyone’s eyes are on me and I know exactly what they’re thinking. Poor Rogue...

Before any of my peers can give me words of encouragement he stomps out the door. I’m guessing for my own safety I shouldn’t keep him waiting and I take off for a dead run.

Shit! He scares the hell out of me. Hiding behind the corner like that. Like I’m not paranoid enough.

“Yeah, Logan?” Thats right. Keep it light. Keep it innocent.

He crosses his *bulging* arms across his chest and leans back against the wall and I’m too distracted to notice the glare of his face. “What the hell is wrong with you today, kid? You didn’t pay a stitch of attention to me.”

Am I blushing? Or is fever merely the fourth symptom of a heart attack. “Oh, sugah, I was definitely paying attention.”

He smirks for a brief second as he glances up and down me. God, even that made the muscles in his forearms move. “Okay, yeah. But you weren’t listening to me.”

Shit, so he could smell me. Figures. It sucks being horny for some one with advanced senses. Although, not as much as having Prolonged Virginitis. “‘Corse I was. You’re pretty loud.”

“See, that’s another thing.” He looks back into the gym then grabs my elbow and pulls me further around the corner. Did I mention his hands absolutely burn through my clothing? “You can’t keep sassing back to me like that in front of the class. Either they’ll loose their respect for me or I’ll have to rain down on you and neither option makes me very happy.”

What? And not get to use my ‘I’m-really-Logan’s-favorite-so-nah’ card? “By respect you mean fear, right?”

“I’m serious, Rogue.”

God damnit. And after I’ve had it laminated and everything. “Alright, sugah, I promise to be a model student.” This goes directly to the bottom of my sucking list.

Then one minute I look towards the door then the next two of his fingers are looped through one of my belt loops. He jerks with those beautiful muscles in his forearms and I’m suddenly flush against him. No, flush doesn’t begin to describe it. I’m *plastered* to him.

“What do you say we cut out of here and go for a ride on the bike?”

Yes, his muscles have amazing effects on my libido, but that smirk... Complete god. Now if only I can remember what makes language...Oh, yeah! Those word things. “What now? What about class?”

He shrugs, bless him. “Screw it. Hell, they’ll probably still be in there when we get back.”

Okay. That was probably true. Class never ended until Logan yelled ‘get the fuck out of my gym’! I shouldn’t be laughing about that. That we’re leaving my friends to sweat their butts of while we go joy riding.

“Sure. Love to.” Technically Logan’s class is still in session. So the ‘better him than me’ principle is still in effect.
“Okay. Just let me grab a quick shower----”

“No!”

Fuck my rampaging hormones and horny Virginities. That was just a *bit* too eager. “I mean... can’t we just go now?”

“Sure, darlin’.” He leads me down the hall with his hand on my lower back. His very large, hot, moist hand. Please, oh please, to all the sex gods, let the heart attack stay back for at least another hour or two.





The Shirt By Jane Kenyon

The shirt touches his neck
and smooths over his back.
It slides down his sides.
It even goes down below his belt----
down into his pants.
Lucky shirt.