I guess I'm not like you...because I can't hold back. Maybe if I knew where we were going or when we'd get there, I'd leave the rules in your hands. Maybe I should be patient, but that's not one of my virtues. Determination – now that I got in droves.

***************

I am wearing my silkiest thigh highs under my skirt and the sexiest `when you catch me you can fuck me' panties I own. Just because I know what we're playing, doesn't mean I'll play fair.

I think you know it.

I know you'll be at breakfast, you don't miss a meal. I show up early, sure to get a good seat at the table. You're late as always, smart ass remark as you enter the room. You take your usual seat at the far end of the table across from me. Your look at me would seem
cryptic to most, but not to me. It's hunger and knowledge, the night before, the nights to come. I slide a silk clad foot out of my heels, put it under the leg of your jeans, and massage you with my toes. I shift to move up and feel your hand around my ankle. You guide my foot up to rest on your knee. Your fingers are creeping up my calf, but can't quite reach the back of my knee. My
foot wiggles against your thigh, wanting desperately to nestle into the warmth of your crotch.

Something happens in your eyes. That hungry look turns raw and calculating and your eyes go almost black. Little warning bells go off in my head. I'm not scared of you, but something tells me I am on treacherous ground. It strikes me that you suddenly look grotesquely out of place. You in the wilds of a forest or even in the fight cage with another man's blood on your hands – but not
here, at a breakfast table. There are at least a half a dozen people around us, but I feel alone. And hunted. Your grip tightens on my ankle, painfully. I know my eyes widen in shock and you give my leg a hard tug that almost jerks me off my chair. I falter backwards trying to stay seated and everyone's gaze snaps to me as if I'm some kind of delinquent.

What the hell just happened? I glare at you, but your expression never changes. I slide my feet back into my shoes and wait for everyone to finish; until it's just the two of us.

"Were you trying to pull my damn leg out of socket?!"

Your head is still down, but your black eyes cut up at me sharply.

"Maybe I just wanted you under the table."

Half of me wants to laugh, but the other half sees you aren't joking. I want to urge you on, but something else tells me to leave. Is it instinct? I barely clear the edge of the table before I'm lifted up and laid back across it. I'm pinned, you between my legs and your hands on either side of my head.

"Why you runnin' away?" you snarl, leaning over me. "I thought you wanted this."

I blink a few times, unbelieving, then, "I do…I do want this…but we're in the dining room. Anyone could just walk…"

"You weren't so worried about other people bein' around when you were rubbin' your foot on my dick."

You turn your back to me then. My shoe comes off in your hand and you rake your thumb up my arch. My whole body jerks, then I feel your warm tongue. You taste me slowly, along my foot, across my ankle, up my calf and my thigh, pushing my skirt up higher as you go. The back of your hand brushes against those special panties ofmine. You rumble quietly as you appreciate them.

"That's my girl."

I hear the rumble again for a second before you thrust my legs wider, your tongue hot against me. Even with the sheer barrier there, my body winds and rolls. I control nothing. I'm helpless and it excites and scares me. Blood is pounding in my ears, but I know I hear someone coming into the room. Someone will find us! I bold upright, panicked.

"Logan!"

You stop abruptly and meet my gaze. You don't look angry. You look…resigned.

"Marie."

I'm not breathing, I'm panting.

"I thought someone – I thought I heard…"

You interrupt and put the heel of your hand against my panties. I feel hot and wet and strangely empty there.

"You wore these for me."

Stricken silent, I nod, even though it wasn't a question.

"Then they're mine," you say as you unceremoniously strip them off of me.

I watch you slide them into your pocket before you slide me over to straddle your thigh. Instinctively, I roll my hips forward, enjoying the warmth I feel through your jeans. I want to rock against you, but you stop me.

Your eyes are clearing when you lean into my ear.

"You want to, but you're not ready. When you're ready, I'll know."

You're walking away again! I shout after you.

"I am ready! Logan! Dammit Logan, I am!"

"Maybe for me you are," you say over your shoulder.

************

I sit in my room, fiddling with the edge of my quilt. Your mixed signals usually stimulate me, right now; they irritate the shit out of me. I don't know how I can be any more obvious that I want you. I am ready. I am willing. I am so damn hot and charged up I feel like there's a beast dancing under my skin.

Who the hell do you think you are to do me this way?! You think you can just fire me up and leave it for later? I don't think so…Bub!

I know you want me; it's not a question of want. Perhaps you need motivation; something to create momentum towards me and what I want you to do to me. So much momentum you won't be able to throw on the brakes. Okay, so maybe I did a little breaking in the dining room, initially. I settled down though. I was ready and you bailed. Well
not any more. I know just how to increase your speed,
uncontrollably, in my direction.

*************

I take a long, hot shower thinking over my plans for the evening. At the last minute I asked to tag along to a charity dinner with the rest of the team. I know you won't be there, but you'll be downstairs when I leave.

I already have the perfect dress for the night, saved as my `special occasion' dress. I know how I look in it because I've tried it on a million times. I know the crimson silk clings and the neckline is too low. I know the elbow length gloves match perfectly, just like
the heels that strap around my ankles. I know that I'm wearing a full stocking underneath it, and nothing else. I am done playing with you.

I wander downstairs a few minutes before I'm to meet the group outside. I figure you'll be in the den and I figure right. The look on your face tells me all I need to know. I've imagined that look since I bought this damn dress. You actually stand up and come closer to tower over me. A long, slow intake of air and your hands are on my hips.

"What's the occasion?"

I smile up at you, feigning ignorance.

"Going to dinner with Scott."

I conveniently omit the Professor and Storm.

Your hands tighten on me.

"Like hell."

I keep up my smile.

"It's just a charity dinner Logan. You'll be up when I get home."

It isn't a date, not even close. I know it's a dirty tactic, but I also know it will work. You're territorial and jealous, you don't want to share - and dirty tactics are your thing.

Almost on cue, Scott comes to see if I'm ready to go. Now that, I didn't plan on, but it couldn't have been more perfect.

Your grip tightens even more and you're looking down my dress. I swear I can see the jealousy crawl across your face. It's what I want, but I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reassuring you.

I pry your hands off of me and follow Scott from the room. I throw you one last look as I leave. You don't look like a jealous man any more. You look primitive and threatening, and I worry if I went too far.

****************

I come home through the back door, having wasted enough time outside to be sure everyone is in their rooms; everyone, but you. I know you're still up, waiting, hopefully wanting. I hope my tactics work.

I make my way upstairs, feeling watched. I expect you to jump from around a corner at any minute, maybe to pin me against a wall. God - I wish you would! You aren't along my dimly lit hallway or in my room. I venture down to your hall. It's dark, but the moon casts light through the windows, bending shadows along the walls. I feel
you in those shadows, watching. I walk the length of the hall, but never find you. I push open your door, but you aren't there.

I quietly go back downstairs to look around. Could I be wrong? Did I drive you away? Seems impossible, but here I am again, confused in this game. I can feel you everywhere, but don't see you anywhere.

You aren't in the kitchen or the den. I'm the one looking, but I feel as though I'm being stalked. I keep checking behind me, but I'm alone. I check the conference rooms, empty. I walk through the dining hall and it echoes.

Confusion turns to despair when I find myself alone in the front foyer. It is eerily quiet downstairs, but the room seems alive. I make a 360 degree turn, straining my eyes in the darkness.

"Dammit," I let out with a sigh and my shoulders drop.

I feel the hairs on my neck rise just before your hand clamps down on the nape of my neck. You don't say anything. You don't have to. I turn and look up into a face that is dark and dangerous. My heart is slamming in my chest. You pull me closer and breathe deep. Once. Twice.

A hand grazes across my breast and my nipples harden immediately, traitorously, and you grab it fully in your hand. My voice comes out a coarse whisper.

"Logan?"

You growl and your mouth locks onto mine. The kiss isn't sensual, it's demanding. It's predatory and it bruises and I'm losing myself in it. Your tongue seeks control, wanting more and I can barely breathe. Your grip is tight on my neck even though I'm not struggling. I want to take you in, all of you. I feel the signature spark of my pull opening up. I push against you, but you hold tighter as images flood my brain.

Me, in this dress, searching for you; me in my green cloak in the fight bar; you on the train years ago; and you as you are now. Fractured images of lust and violence, anger and hope, hurt and compassion…and an overwhelming sense of what you want from me.

You pull away before it weakens you, shaking it off with a crack of your neck. I'm gasping for air, wide eyed in my knowledge – and willing.

"I'm gonna take you now," you say slowly and a claw slices through your glove.

I nod, as if numb, but I've never felt more in my life. With your senses, I smell you, virile and male. I hear silk rip as you slice the front of my dress open. I anticipate your move when you back me against the stair rails and pull my dress open wide. I feel your
hand between my legs, rubbing me, finding me through the sheer material. You look down, your eyes devouring me. I know how I look to you. The material shimmers pale, identical to my skin. You lick at my nipples, sucking and biting, bringing them to painful peaks. I don't resist the urge to curl my fingers in your hair and hold you
there.

Your teeth tear the edge of the nylon, splitting it open to just above my navel. You cup a bare breast in each hand and grind your pelvis into mine. My legs wrap around you and my hips buck and kick wanting your touch down there again.

"Please. I want you. Now."

You rip the nylon all the way down, exposing all of me. I feel your hand between my legs again, teasing, encircling, then plunging inside of me. Your face is granite when you grab my chin, forcing me to focus on it. Your hand is still on me, scorching me, working me to a frenzy. I see you, wild and raw and starving. I can feed
that hunger. I am what you need, what you want. I know what you are and I want it too. All of it.

"All of you. Now." I growl into your face.

The room spins as I'm turned around. Your fingers wrap mine around the base of the rail spindles, urging me to hold on. I hear behind me, tearing foil and the rustle of denim. I feel you hard against me before you grab my hips and with a guttural moan, plunge deep inside. Pain grips me, but I don't scream. You're stretched over me with your face in my hair while the pain turns to a pleasurable
ache. You slide out and back in and the ache is to be filled, again and again and again. My legs won't hold and we crumple to our knees. You still hold my waist, thrusting; I push back to feel more. More.

"More!"

Your hand fists in my hair and jerks back hard. Your thighs pound against mine and when you bite into my shoulder, my climax rips through me. You get rougher and faster and you come hard and loud. Your roar is an echo through the halls.

I am still huddled against you, both of us panting when I'm lifted up and you carry me upstairs. I am warm and contented, and strangely at peace. I'm not sure, but I think we pass someone in the hall. Did we wake the entire mansion? As I drift off to sleep in your arms, in your bed, I realize I don't care.

***************

The first time was for claiming, the many others were for us. I wasn't sure that it could be this way, both hot and hard and warm and gentle…but you knew. You knew I'd reach this point; no inhibitions with you. You knew we'd reach this point; unconditional acceptance. You knew it all
along and when I asked if you knew, you answered me plainly, in your typical Logan way.

"It was inevitable."