She sat on the edge of the bed, sheet wrapped tightly around her and watched him dress. He hadn’t said a word to her. He just walked over the other side of the room and stared dressing. Roughly shoving his clothes on and growling. He sat on the opposite side of the bed and put his socks and shoes on.
He stood up ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Their eyes met briefly, and he sighed, shook his head, and stormed off downstairs. She heard him grab his jackets, knocking the chair over. She jumped as he slammed the door and continued to sit there when the truck started and pulled away with a slight screech of tyres.
“That when well!” She got up and stoked the fire. Then boiled enough water for a small bath. Gently running her wash cloth over her bruises and teeth marks, she smiled to herself. He was a stubborn bastard, but she loved him. She suddenly realised that she hadn’t actually told him that.
Arguing with him had somehow cleared the fog in her mind on the whole Wolverine situation.
Now she knew what Logan wanted, and he knew what she wanted. So what if she liked rough sex? A lot of people did. Jesus, if the internet sites that she caught Jubilee looking at last month were any indication, half the known world had some kind of bedroom issue. Besides, the memories she had of Logan prior to the Statue of Liberty, he wasn’t a passive lover by any stretch of the imagination.
Feet, that was the one she could never understand. What was the point in feet? Either they were ugly and hairy, or they stank. No one would ever get her sucking on their toes, and she would never let anyone near hers. No sir, not even Logan.
He drove for an hour until he hit the town. He parked outside the bar and walked in. Sitting down on one of the torn, leather barstools, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Picking his head up, he gestured to the barmaid.
“Beer.” She smiled at him and lust registered in her scent. She was pretty, short brown hair, nice eyes, and a genuine smile. He rolled his eyes; a couple of years ago he would have smiled back and have been fucking her against the outside wall by closing time. Now she was just a pretty face, one he would happily look at and pass by, knowing his girl was at home.
She was at home alright. Probably crying by now. Calling him every name under the sun for leaving her there. Packing her bags by now. He had had to get out of that house. She had no place saying what was or wasn’t his fault. He knew how things should have turned out, and he knew what mistakes had been made. The past should be left alone: you couldn’t change it and knowing it rarely made you feel better. So what the fuck is the point? If there was something to be learned from Jean’s death, it was that.
He didn’t care who he was or where he came from. Yes, he wondered, but he didn’t *need* to know anymore. He had other reasons for carrying on now. Marie was one of them. If he was honest, Scott was another. He felt responsible. This had all started because of him. Jean was ultimately his fault.
He remembered her voice like it was this morning. She was an amazing woman. He thought he had truly been in love with her, but after she died, all he felt was guilt that he hadn’t tried harder to save her. The love he felt had been for a very dear friend, a woman who had seen past the gruffness.
Yeah, she had been a little cruel when he made a pass at her, but she was right. Who would want to take him home? Look at what he had let happen to Marie. He hurt, caused harm and mayhem. He was unpredictable and dangerous. But he had tried: good guys stick around, and he *had* tried.
Scott had never made an issue out of it. Just before he’d married ‘Ro last year, Logan had brought it up and tried to apologise. Scott had stopped him, saying there was nothing anyone could have done, and he thanked Logan for being supportive. Three months later, he had moaned and groaned his way into a suit to be Scott’s best man.
Of course. Why was he so stupid? He chucked a couple of bills on the counter, downed his beer and walked out to his truck. It was just starting to get dark, and he could feel the heaviness of Wolverine in his mind.
He sat in the cab of the truck with his phone in his hand, looking at it. He had been looking at it for about twenty minutes. Suddenly the truck was too small, and he got out. Slamming the door shut, he kicked it a couple of times. A phone call, it was one damn phone call. Leaning against the side of his truck, he dialled Scott’s number.
She had dried her body, got dressed and dried her hair. It was dark outside now. She made some coffee and sat on the porch swing. Maybe she had said too much, pushed too hard. He should have been back by now, unless he wasn’t coming back.
Every time she felt confident about what was going on, it went bonkers. He went bonkers, or she went bonkers. The whole bloody world was bonkers. Wolverine was bonkers, Logan was bonkers. Everyone was bonkers, Magneto was bonkers, and she guessed that it was fair to say the entire mutant population had at some time or another been, yes, you guessed it, bonkers.
She finished her coffee and went inside to pour herself another. She grabbed her laptop and went up to bed. She was wearing her baggy t-shirt and settling herself under the covers; she fired up the computer. A couple of hours of checking her emails and maybe a MSN chat with Jubes would make her feel better. It was also a good way to pass the time until Logan came back. Or didn’t.
Scott was sat in the staff kitchen with Hank, ‘Ro and Pete when his phone rang. Ignoring the laughs and snickers from his friends when hey heard his ‘YMCA’ ringtone, he answered. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s me.” Logan could hear laughing and snickering.
“What did you do?” Scott chuckled.
“Why do you always assume that I did something?” Logan began to pace around the truck.
“Ok, so what did she do?”
“Nothing really,” Logan grumbled, and Scott chuckled again.
“So you did do something?” Logan could hear Hank’s voice in the background talking about some genetic thing.
“Kinda.”
“Logan, what’s going on?”
He sighed and rested against his truck again. “Look, if I asked you a serious question would you tell me the truth?”
“Depends. What about?” He could hear ‘Ro. They all sounded relaxed and happy. He felt momentarily guilty because he knew what they were about to talk about would ruin that for Scott.
“Jean.”
“Hang on.” Logan heard him say that he would take the rest of the call outside, said to ‘Ro it was guy stuff. Great, now the whole mansion would think he couldn’t get it up. Thanks, Scooter!
The sound of voices grew quieter until he could hear nothing but a bit of breeze. Scott was in the grounds now. “Ok, what’s going on?”
“Rogue said some stuff, and I walked out.”
“What did she say? And what does it have to do with Jean?”
“Do you blame me? For her death, I mean. Have…have I changed since she died? I’m having a little trouble here, Scott. Rogue’s got me thinking my guts out, and I can’t handle it anymore. She wants parts of me that I don’t want to admit are even there! Jean’s death made me want to forget, be something else.”
“Logan, did something happen with Wolverine? Is Rogue ok?”
“She’s fine, and it’s none of your damned business what happened. Just answer the question…please.”
It was Scott’s turn to sigh. Logan heard it and felt sick. “I guess you’ve changed a little, calmed down. And no, I don’t blame you.”
“Simple as that, huh, one-eye?”
“Fuck you, Logan! Yes, I did blame you! I also blamed myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Come on, Logan. We weren’t the only ones on that jet.”
“What the hell where they supposed to do?”
“Really, none of them could have done anything? What about Kurt, why didn’t he teleport her away at the last moment? Bobby could have frozen the water around her. Xavier - surely he could have done something. ‘Ro hello, in control of the elements - water is an element. Fuck, half of the kids on that jet had some kind of mutation that could have done *something*. It might not have worked, but no one even tried. No one, Logan. It’s easier to name the ones that couldn’t have done anything. I’ve been through all of this, all of it, and I’ve let it go. She did what she thought was right. She saved everyone on that plane. We weren’t there to save her; she was there to save us.”
“I kinda got lost in all the blame shit.” He knew that now. In the back of his mind Wolverine began to purr slightly.
“Logan, you got lost in yourself. Listen, it was inevitable. You didn’t deal with it at the time, and it’s obviously come back to bite you in the ass now. Grief does that. Go back to Rogue. Talk; apologise if you need to. Don’t lose her because you’re not willing to just be you.”
Logan listened to him talk and seriously thought about what he was saying. It did make sense; he never dealt with his friend’s death, just pushed it all away and got on rebuilding the mansion and helping the kids out. “Do you miss her?”
“Yeah, and I know you do, but you just have to accept it.”
“I’m not going to sit down and cry like some little pansy-ass dick, Scott.” Logan chuckled and relaxed slightly.
“Oh for God’s sake, Logan, just get over yourself. You have a beautiful woman, a home, friends. Be happy with that.” He was right; Logan had more than most people, and it all did make him happy. Maybe finding that middle road was easier than he thought.
“Thanks, Scooter.” Logan cut the line. Scott groaned; Logan hadn’t called him that in years.
‘Ro came out onto the grass behind Scott just as he hung up the phone. He turned around and smiled at his beautiful wife. “Everything ok?”
“Yeah. Apart from I think I just encouraged Logan to be annoying again.” She laughed softly and hugged her husband.
Marie turned the computer off and settled down under the covers. She wasn’t crying, and she wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to be weak. She refused to be upset. Maybe he would be back by the morning. She briefly thought about ringing the mansion to see if he had called. Jubes hadn’t been online, and she hadn’t answered Marie’s text either.
Laying there staring out the small window, she wondered what he really thought of her. Did he think that she had sexual issues? He couldn’t still see her as just a poor little kid? That was the only explanation: he thought she was too young to think like this and too young to want the rougher stuff.
She had a lot of his memories still, she had rifled through them a little before. He had inadvertently passed on a great deal of sexual experience, not that she had ever used any of it. He had been rough with other women. She understood that he didn’t want to hurt her, but there was a fine line, and she knew he could find it if he tried hard enough.
She realised that he wasn’t the only one that needed to find some balance. She had issues with being left alone, being deserted. She knew he wouldn’t do that if he could help it, but the thought was still there. Being with him made her forget about her insecurities, but when she was on her own, they came rushing back.
She started to think about him when they’d first met. He was half-naked in that fighting cage; he looked magnificent, strong and powerful. She had wanted to feel the muscles in his back, run her hands over him. She giggled to herself and snuggled further into the covers, smiling brightly. He had looked at her after, as she sat there with pure innocence, watching him. He had impressed her and scared her at the same time.
Thinking about him like this made the covers way too hot. She ran her hands down her throat and touched her breasts, imagining they were his. She tipped her head back when she squeezed her nipples though the fabric of her shirt. Letting one hand trail lower, she felt…the only way to describe it was - naughty. She giggled again and slipped her hand inside her panties.
She rubbed two of her small fingers over her clit while using the other hand to play with her nipple. Thinking of the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin, slight tickle of his mutton chops and the heat he radiated in her direction, she was soon raising her legs and moving her hand quicker. She bit her lip and dipped her middle finger inside herself several times. Moaning loudly, then she shouted his name and shuddered over the edge.
Snuggling under the covers again, she drifted into a fitful sleep. He would come back, she was sure of it. But what would happen when he did, and what would be the consequence? Her dreams drifted between images of him touching her and images of being bitten and bruised.
Logan got out of the truck and walked to the cabin. The bedroom lamp was still on, but standing outside the door, he could tell she was asleep by the soft breathing. He went in silently. “Jesus, she hasn’t even locked the door.” He swore under his breath at her lack of responsibility, fancy going to bed and leaving the door unlocked. He took off his jacket.
Her scent was everywhere: soft cinnamon, shampoo, and drifting down from the bedroom was a strong smell of sex.
He smirked to himself; he couldn’t leave her alone for five minutes. She was a complete nymphomaniac. He rubbed his eyes and chuckled softly. Good thing for her, he had a healing factor, or she’d be taking care of herself for forever more.
He looked up the stairs and smiled again. A dirty little thought had just popped into his mind. “Ok, little girl, you want us, you got us.” He took off his boots and socks, then his shirt, smiling while he took off his vest and then his jeans. In his temper earlier, he hadn’t bothered with underwear. Not that he did normally; special occasions only.
He was standing naked in the kitchen, smirking at his own plan. He was planning on putting everything in perspective once and for all. He was going to take back his control over his inner self and sort this thing out. Make sure that Marie and he both knew who they were and where they stood.
Enough of this emotional conversation crap; he was going to sort it the old-fashioned way, with action.
A noise from downstairs made her jump awake. She sat up and rubbed her face. She could hear someone moving around. She pushed the covers back and went to the top of the stairs. “Logan?” It was completely dark since the fire had fizzled out a couple of hours ago.
She went down three or four steps and stopped. Trying to adjust her eyes, she could make out a figure standing at the bottom. A large and dangerous, looming dark figure. “Logan?” Her voice betrayed her nervousness, and she was sure she was shaking. The figure took a step up and became marginally clearer. His hands were twitching at his sides, and he was staring at her with dangerous intensity, his chest heavily raising up and down as he obviously struggled with his restraint. “Oh shit!”
She turned and bolted back up the stairs. She heard him growl as he caught her from behind and pushed her onto the bed. She let out a, “Oooph,” as she was crushed under his weight. She tried to get free as he grabbed both of her wrists, putting them in one of his large hands and holding them above her head.
He was sitting astride her bottom, in the centre of the bed holding her wrists in one huge hand. She could feel he was naked, feel his erection against her inner thigh. She had a brief thought that she should stop this, but something in the back of her mind was stopping her, telling her to accept herself fully.
He popped his claws on his free hand, and she jumped at the sound. He slid his hand under her shirt and sliced it off of her, revealing her skin. The marks he had given her were still there, and he licked them. She moaned into the covers and unconsciously raised her bottom up.
He smiled against her skin. She was loving this, and finally, so was he. He ran his hand over her back and down into her panties. He let out a single claw and gently cut the sides. Then he very roughly grabbed the material and ripped it away from her.
She jumped again. God, this was so good, but it shouldn’t be, and she felt so treacherous. He ran his rough hand over her bottom making her groan. Then he laid his body in between her legs and slipped his hand round in between her and the bed, massaging her clit with his fingers. Rubbing them around her nub in circular motions.
Again, she buried her head in the covers and moaned at the amazing sensation he was giving her. “Logan’s gonna kill me!” She mumbled, but he heard her words, making him smile again. Even though this was making her extremely wet, Logan was truly the one she wanted. He licked her back and ran his fangs up her skin: they weren’t really fangs, just his own sharp canines. “Ugh, God!”
He growled, rubbing himself against her buttocks and massaging her clit at the same time. She was making small moaning sounds and bucking her hips in the direction of his cock. She was so close. Just a little more, and it would tip her over the edge. Her skin was burning from the touch of him, aching for more, screaming out for him to mark her. It was all in conflict with her mind that was screaming for Logan to take over and be with her again.
He let go of her hands, but growled and made it clear she was to stay still. He leaned back, held onto her hips and pushed his aching cock into her. She scrunched the covers in her hands and moaned. “Please.” He had no idea what she was asking for, and neither did she. He laid down on her again, holding her wrists and slamming hard into her.
Letting out a cross between a gasp and a moan with each thrust, she was in heaven and about to explode. He let go of one wrist just to see what she would do. She grabbed the covers and made no attempt to stop him. He pushed her hair out of the way exposing her neck. He nipped at it and thrust harder, growling into her ear, letting his hot breath tease and tingle her skin.
God, she was going to cum, anytime now, just a few more and then it would go. “GAWD! Ugh…more please, yes…Wolvermmmmphh” He slammed his big hand over her mouth, never breaking his rhythm. Fear gripped her scent.
“Name’s Logan, darlin’. You better remember that!” Her fear ebbed away, her eyes went wide, and she came, shuddering and shattering into his embrace, pushing back against him, begging him with her body to come along with her. He did, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and snarling as he did.
He rolled onto his back and laid there panting with a smug grin on his face. She hadn’t moved, and her breathing was as bad as his own was. “You ok?”
She looked at him and giggled. “Yeah.” She reached out her hand, touched his lips. “I love you, Logan.” It was the first time she had said, and now it felt right.
He put his palm on her cheek, and she nudged into him. Running it round the back of her neck, he pulled her to him for a passionate kiss. During the kiss he rolled her under him, just as she let his tongue into her mouth. They hadn’t done a lot of kissing, and this was making up for it.
She felt soft and perfect under him. He couldn’t stop himself from devouring her with his mouth as well as his hand. She broke the kiss because she needed some air. “Do we need to talk about this? Because I don’t think we do.”
“I think you’re right, baby. We have far too much to do.” He kissed her, running his hand between her legs again, plunging two fingers into her still-wet opening. She moaned and gripped his forearm, making sure he didn’t stop what he was doing. He kissed down her neck, her throat, past her breasts and straight to her core. Licking and nipping at her clit while his fingers plunged into her roughly.
He took his fingers out and licked them clean. She blushed as he did it, but continued to watch his blatant display of possession. He positioned himself in between her legs, about to enter her, then he ran his finger over her wetness again and put his finger in her mouth. She closed her eyes and sucked her own juices off of his finger. When she opened her eyes to look at him, he looked fantastic, his face nothing but pure sexy darkness.
Next he pushed into her, while nipping at her neck. This time, they took their time, slowly taking each other on a fantastic ride. Soft touches, mixed in with firm grips and pleasurable sounds. By the time they were both ready to explode, they were covered in sweat and shaking as they kissed. Her legs wrapped tightly around him, hands secured in each others hair and moaning into each other as the sensation finally took their breath away.
Logan woke first in the morning, finding her snuggled into his chest. Lovely contented smell, her skin, and a soft rosy-ness to her checks. He smiled down at her and, for the first time in what seemed like months, relaxed. He touched her cheek lightly, but it was enough to stir her. “Hey, baby.”
“Morning, handsome. You ok?”
He kissed her hard on the lips. “I feel fucking amazing, darlin’.” She giggled at the stupid grin on his face. He jumped out of bed and literally hopped into his jeans. “I’ll even make you breakfast.”
“Oh God, I’ve turned you into The Boy from Oz!”
Whe he spoke his voice was thick with sarcasm. “Yeah ‘cos I look like some Australian pansy ass who’s gonna dance around in a sequinned shirt!” As he trotted down the stairs like a truly happy man, he broke into song. “When my baby, When my baby smiles at me, I go to Rio, De Janeiro, my-oh-me-oh, I go wild and then I have to do the Samba , And La Bamba……………..”
Marie lay on the bed with her head buried in the pillows, crying and laughing ‘til her stomach hurt.
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