She was hurting. Not just inside, where he slid into her like a blade. She hurt in her hips, where her legs were thrown wide trying to ease the passage, trying to accommodate the stocky, hairy, powerfully muscled mass of him between her thighs. Her feet, toes curling in her heavy boots, seemed like dead weights at the ends of her legs as they wrapped around the invading body of her lover, her victim, her tormentor.
She had wanted him so badly, wanted not just a man, but a strong man. And in her secret heart, she knew that what she most wanted was a strong man who did not want her, so she could feel better about using him and taking him and not loving him. Logan was so obviously fucked up, it almost made it alright to let him screw her so hard that every time he bottomed out she experienced just a little whiteout, a little retreat from consciousness.
He was mad, violent, used, yet also he was obviously turned on. It was a rush, to her, to know that her body, her lips, her imagination, could turn a man with so much strength into her plaything. She laughed, for a brief moment, despite the pain and the passion of him pounding her hard into the thin mattress, a single gasping laugh that brought him up short.
“What?” He tossed his head like a horse, sweat flying from his hair and lading on her cheek. “This a game, girl?”
He gripped her body-stocking clad hips hard, bruising her, and pumped twice into her, kicking his hips a little at the end. The room spun into whiteness. When she caught her breath, he was looking away, disgusted. He had started to pull away from the battered woman-child.
“Wait,” she called out, reaching for him, trying to lock her ankles around his waist, to keep him inside her. He leaned back, just inside her still, throbbing luridly with his heartbeat, flexing with the flow of blood and rage.
“Christ, kid,” he sighed, weary and old, older than any man she had known, with the weight of untold sorrows, “Christ. I hadn’t thought you were...”
He shrugged, and his mouth twisted.
“What, a virgin?” She almost laughed, the way he flinched. “Why Logan, who but you would have survived this far, even with protection? You been healing up every hurt I done you as we go, haven't you?”
“I wouldn’t have hurt you!” He snapped at her, reaching fumblingly for her legs, trying to pull away, yet still fighting the animal groan that came from the hot friction of her. And despite himself, he looked back, saw her, all slender and fine, and woman-grown in the bust but still with girl-thin hips, and the slightest baby-fat softening her face. He looked, and she was innocent and wanton, and sweet and cruel, the Madonna and the whore.
His eyes dilated, his nostrils flared. His whole body trembled and in that moment, they both knew that this was his fear, his temptation. Not that he did not love her, or that he loved another, or that she was using him. His fear was that looking at her, he wanted her, wanted to use her hard and rough, to leave her sore and tired and bloodied and marked, to leave her forever aware that she had been taken by the Wolverine and he’d taken her first and ruined her for other men.
She saw this, and she was tuned in to him enough to understand it all in a flash, even as he understood it himself. And she knew what to do.
Biting her lip, shy as a schoolgirl, she pressed her palm to his chest. His muscles shuddered and he groaned as his power and strength flowed into her. She pressed on, holding just a bit longer, waiting and feeling for the change to come.
Logan looked down, forcing his eyes open, and saw her gasping, saw the bruises on her hips fading with his healing power. Inside her, he felt her body flex and tighten, and suddenly she pulled her hand away.
They both gasped and sighed, and then she wiggled her hips. He could feel, within her depths, a renewed obstruction. Her virginity restored by his mutant healing power, her body once more awaited his violating thrust. He looked at her with awe and slowly reached out his hands to take her hips again.
She grinned, a Cheshire cat smile that curled around her face and pulled her lips into thin curlicues. She batted her eyelashes and declared with mock seriousness, “Why Logan, is this what-all you needed?”
He grinned, and chuckled, a low buzzing that made him cock flex inside her as he repositioned himself over her, ready to take her again, to break her and take her and use her all over again.
“Oh and Logan, Sugar,” she waited till he tore his eyes from her sex up to her smiling face. He took a moment to focus, so aroused was he by the turn of events, and the unspoiled eager body pushing up against him. “Sugar, this time don’t be so damned gentle!”
His howl as he pushed into her, and hers as they collided again and again, pounding thrust met by eager bucking, was easily audible to anyone walking by the ostensibly soundproof door. The howls gave way to screaming, then to hoarse panting. Every half hour or so, the whole cycle started again.
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