“Stop whining, this is your fault.”
Logan yelped, glared mutinously down at his torturer as she wheezed erratically, dragging him slowly towards his bed, her arm around his waist, nearly dropping him twice in the process. “How is it my fault?” he asked, yelping again when she, while in the process of pulling the cover back with one hand, nearly sent him crashing to the ground. He grabbed onto her, almost bringing her down with him, but managed to steady himself by holding onto the bedpost with the other hand. “I didn’t ask to be attacked.”
“Yes you did,” Rogue snapped back, helping him slide under the covers and pulling his wounded feet up carefully up onto the bed. He winced, stifled a moan of pain by biting his lips shut. “Don’t lie to me. You saw Magneto and you went running after him didn’t you? Just couldn’t help yourself.”
He stared mulishly at the ceiling, lifting his head up as much as he could so that she could plump his pillows and then take his boots off.
“You would think you’d learn not to mess with a guy who can turn you into a pretzel, but noooo,” Rogue continued, struggling with his left boot, “not Logan, he sees something like that as a challenge. He has to go running straight for the psychopath who can play him like Pinocchio.”
“I can hear you.”
“Really?”asked Rogue sarcastically, finally managing to undo the messy knot he’d tied on his boot, “are you listening this time? Because what I’m saying isn’t new, I‘ve only been telling you this oh … for the past few years.”
He huffed, “stop yelling at me, I nearly died and all you’re doing is hurting my feelings. I haven’t even gotten a ‘are you alright Logan?’ or an ‘I was so worried Logan!’ or even a hug!”
Come on … that hint wasn’t even subtle.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring him, dropped his boots on the floor, pulled the quilt off him and reached towards his waist. “Wow!” he asked, eyes wide, breathless all of a sudden, “what’re you doing?”
She raised a brow, motioned towards his belt, “can’t be comfortable.”
He blushed, cleared his throat and nodded, watched from under his lashes as she unbuckled his belt, muttering under her breath about his stupidity all the while, and slid it out of the loops of his bloody jeans.
He grabbed the quilt and quickly covered himself back up.
“Well, how long is it going to take - for you to fully heal?” she asked, wrapping his belt carefully and placing it on the bedside cabinet.
He hesitated, watched her busy hands as she rolled his belt up, watched those hands place it on the table then come up to tuck the quilt around him gently. “Oh … ages.”
She frowned, worry stilling her busy hands, “but you’re normally up in minutes.”
He nodded, tried to look sombre, “yeah but this was … bad. Lots of - um, internal damage. And that always takes longer. That bastard really messed me up inside.”
She blinked, hands hovering over him fearfully, as if she wanted to run them over his skin and feel the damage herself. Logan gulped, tried not to stretch towards her. “What, like hours?” she asked.
He shook his head quickly, “… days probably. It’s bad - inside - I can feel it.”
Her eyes went circular with fear. “Days!” she gasped, “I - oh my god, days? You should see Jean she-”
“No!” he cut in quickly, “I’ll be alright, nothing she can really do that my body won’t do faster. I just need rest, that’s all … and uh -” He gulped, looked at her as innocently as he could manage. “I may need help … for things like um, changing …”
He was a bad, evil, bad, bad man.
She blinked, blossomed cherry red from her forehead to the tips of her toes and carefully studied his left earlobe. “Of course … that’s - of course - unless you don’t want - or uh, would prefer, well of course you would, I’ll go ask Jean-”
He shook his head, grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving. “No! No, you’re fine - you know, if you don’t mind?”
She kept her eyes averted, “of course I don’t. Least I can do for you.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds. He watched her reactions from under his lashes; she seemed to find his curtains really interesting.
“Uh …” she hesitated, shot him a quick look then went back to studying the curtains. “Do you need … to, you know, change … now?” She was so red in the face she was actually sweating.
Logan felt something twitch under the strategically placed quilt. Not a good idea at the moment. But ever so tempting.
“No - not right now. I’m in too much pain to uh, move … but would later be okay?” he asked carefully, trying to will his erection away.
“Of course it’s okay … just um, call me and I’ll, you know, help you change,” she said, nodding absentmindedly, blinking rapidly, seemingly unable to look at him for more then a few seconds at a time. “Well! I had better go, let you get some rest. I’ll leave your mobile on the table next to you, just ring me when you need to - change.”
He nodded, watched her go, waited until the door clicked shut then threw the cover off his body. God he was a mess, still singed in some places and he could feel his healing working overtime to try to knit his slack muscles back together. Carefully, he lifted his arm, still quivery with pain, to the button of his jeans, fumbled it open and slid down the zipper.
His cock sprung out, tightening further at the feel of freedom and chillier air. He palmed it gently, wincing at the way his bones creaked threateningly and ran his fingers up and down it softly. It would be how she would do it maybe, a little hesitant the first time, a little shy. Blushing as she touched him, her fingers so soft that he would barely feel it on him, making him want to arch up towards her, straining for her touch.
He bit his lip, muffling his moan as he came messily and reached for a tissue.
X
“Hey, you phoned! I didn’t think you would,” she told him as she popped her head around the door and entered his room.
What, and miss out on the chance of having her hands all over him? No, don’t think about it, do not think about it, focus on something else, ice, ice, ice …
“You said I could - unless you changed your mind?” he asked nonchalantly. Please don’t let her have changed her mind.
“No, I just thought you’d play it all ‘I-don’t-need-anyone.’”
He frowned, “I’m not like that.”
She arched a brow, “I don’t have time to give you examples right now but later I‘ll type it up in Times New Roman, font size 8, and give it to you to peruse when you‘re bored. Might take you a while to finish though.” Was he that bad?
She cleared her throat nervously and showed him the carrier bag she was swinging in one hand, “it’s clothes, loose ones, I thought it would be better if they’re not too tight. Easy ones too,” she lifted a black cotton sweats, “see, no zips, you just tug them on. I was thinking of getting you a sarong-” He looked up at her in alarm. “Then I realised you’d probably kill me,” she said with a playful grin. “Oh and a hoodie, with a zip, and I got you slippers too.”
She showed him the slippers, plain navy blue ones with thick straps. They both stared at it then met each other’s eyes.
“So … are you going to help me?” he asked, carefully adding a touch of pain to his tone. “The pants are beginning to chafe.”
Her eyes widened, she dropped the slippers on the floor and came and stood next to his bed. “How - um, how do we do this?”
“Help me sit up,” he instructed, hoping she didn’t hear the barely hidden anticipation in his voice. She nodded, leaned down, wrapped her arms around his chest and heaved him upwards.
… Jesus, her breasts were smushed against him.
“You okay?” she asked breathlessly, trying to steady him.
“Yeah …” he groaned, unable to help but lean into her chest, trying to rub up against her cloth covered nipples. “Just hurts - my back … and my spine.”
She gasped, eyes wide with worry and held him closer to her, trying to get him to put his weight on her rather then his spine. “Better?”
Oh god yes. “A little.”
“You sure about this? Maybe we could call in Jean and Hank - Hank’s strong and all.”
“No, no, this is fine.” More then fine. Beyond fine. So fine he has to think of ice again. “… Unless this is making you uncomfortable?”
Her cheeks went from rose pink to strawberry red in seconds. “Uncomfortable? Of course not, just you after all,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Anyway … uh, got to take your shirt off.” Her shaky fingers reached for the buttons on his over shirt, she couldn’t seem to manage it at first, her sweaty hands just slipped off them, but after she wiped them dry on her jeans she managed to start unbuttoning him. “Can you stretch your arms?” she asked, her voice pitched a little huskier then before.
He pretended to try, noticed that his joints were moving a lot more fluidly, “no,” he said with a grimace, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as if in immense pain. “God, it hurts.”
She quickly stopped him from trying anything further, “okay, okay, stop, I’ll pull it down myself.” Carefully she adjusted the shirt gently down his arms, pausing to un-tuck it from his waist, her eyes floating worriedly over the tears and bloodstains all over it.
“Hey …” he called out, feeling guilty at how worried he was making her. “I’m healing. I’ll be alright - in a couple of days.” Can’t forget the objective after all.
She nodded, sighed and put the shirt on the bed, folding it even though it was good for nothing except the trashcan. Her fingers reached around his waist again, gently pulling at the t-shirt he wore underneath, working it up and off his body, right up to his underarms. “Uh, we’re going to have to cut this off Logan.”
He nodded, and pointed with his head towards the bottom draw; she leaned towards it, careful to still hold him against her, and fumbled through the contents, coming back out with a pocket-knife with a bottle opener attached to it. Carefully she cut away at his shirt, and then pulled it off him.
“Jesus Logan, it isn’t that cold in New York,” she grumbled with an eye roll when she saw that he was wearing a wife beater under that. She set to cutting that off as well. He pulled away enough to let her strip the blood stained pieces of cloth off him then slumped against her, tired. “You okay?” she asked worriedly, her hands ghosting over his hair.
“Just dizzy,” he mumbled into her chest, pressing a few barely grazing kisses there while he was at it.
“You want to rest a bit?”
“No, just - just give me a minute, I’ll be alright.” He hesitated, wondering if he could push it a little further. Decided to go for it. “Could you - stroke …”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What Logan? Just tell me, it’s only me.”
“… Could you stroke my hair? It makes me - um, feel better … less dizzy,” he said to her chest, face so hot that he was surprised he wasn’t burning her.
She stiffened and he tensed in her arms, wondering if she had guessed his intentions but then a shaky, unsure hand began to thread through his hair, rubbing enticingly over his scalp. “Like this?” she asked in a whisper.
He nodded, tamped down the urge to flex against her like a cat and tilted his head further into her soothing palm. “You feel better?” she asked, in that same soft, intimate whisper.
“Yeah,” he replied in a whisper of his own. So intimate it felt like he was groaning into her ear after he came inside her. Her eyes flitted up to his, filled with surprise. He gulped, smiled guilelessly and nodded briskly. “Yeah. Better now … my jeans?”
She blinked the questions away and leaned back a little so that she could study his jeans. “Should I cut them off too?”
He winced, “I’d rather nothing sharp went near my uh - utensils. Just help me a little and I’ll get it off.” She nodded, her lips quivering as she tried not to giggle, he arched off the mattress, moaned as if in pain and then moaned for real when her fingers struggled to unbutton his jeans.
“I can’t,” she grumbled, throwing her hands up in frustration. “It’s too stiff.”
He bit his lip hard enough for it to bleed, keeping the dirty one-liners inside. “I’ll do it,” he mumbled, reaching down to twist the button off, slumping forward against her as if it had taken all his strength.
“You okay?” she asked, concerned, smoothing his hair back for him. He nodded, motioned for her to continue, her hands left his scalp and reached down to his zipper. He sucked in a breath, nodded again and held it in until she’d unzipped him all the way. “… Huh …”
“What?”
“… Oh what? … Nothing … it’s just … No - The girls are going to be ever so disappointed.”
He frowned, “what? Why?”
Her eyes twinkled mischievously, her lip lifted up at one corner. “They’re all convinced you go commando.”
Startled, he shot her a look. Was she flirting with him? Should he flirt back? Couldn’t hurt right? … Maybe he should test the waters? “I normally do, you just caught me on a day when I decided to bother … Disappointed?”
She snorted - which wasn’t promising. “One day I’m going to tell you exactly what happens to your sperm count when you let the boys swing free like that, and then you’ll be sorry.”
… Not quite the reaction he was hoping for.
“Hurry up will you,” he griped moodily, feeling thwarted, she sighed, ignoring his sulking and carefully inched the jeans off his waist, urged him to arch off the bed again then inched it down his legs. Carefully she lowered him onto his back, hovering over him so temptingly that he was this close to twisting her underneath him - but she disappeared before his fingers could grab onto her.
He felt her hands on his ankles, pulling the jeans off fully and folding that neatly as well. “It’s all ruined, even the pants” she said, eyeing it critically, “it will all have to go.”
He nodded, fisting a bit of the quilt, getting ready to cover himself just in case he perked up any further then he already was.
“You cold?” she asked, her milk chocolate eyes fixing on him.
“-Yes, you’re taking ages, my nuts are freezing Marie.”
She laughed throatily, and he covered himself and began to think of glaciers and snow storms. “Sorry, I’ll get the sweats.” She walked over to where she had left the pants and unfolded them, brushing at invisible lint and testing how stretchy it was. “Perfect,” she said, pleased that it was big enough, bending down to fit it around his ankles and then sliding it up. “You’re going to have to help me a little Logan.”
“Tired,” he mumbled weakly, eyes fluttering shut.
“Five minute break?” she asked, still holding the jeans up at his ankles.
He breathed laboriously, shook his head and tried to push himself up with his hands. Groaned and collapsed on his back, his hands giving way to his weight.
“Hey!” she snapped, dropping the trousers and reaching for him in a panic. “If you want to get up you tell me first. No moving without permission, understand?”
“Sir, yes sir,” he mumbled back, chest billowing up and down dramatically.
She shook her head, exasperated, and gently eased her arms around his chest again, pulling his head against her chest first before hoisting him up. He snuggled into her, smug with success, wrapping his arms around her weakly and moaning as if in pain. “Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”
He nodded, snuggling further, content exactly where he was. Trying to find that hidden pebble she was hiding under so much cloth. “You ready now?” she asked, breaking his concentration.
“Yeah,” he said weakly. She held him tighter as he arched off the bed, thighs quivering, she snaked one arm down and tugged at the stretchy fabric, pulling it up as quick as she could before his strength ran out. “Hurry,” he groaned, pressing his forehead into her breast, making her gasp and swallow deeply. Looks like he‘d found that nipple after all.
“Done,” she said, voice a little too high. “Okay …” she cleared her throat, trying to pull herself back together again. “You hungry? I could get you something to eat, sandwiches? Pasta? I think there’s yesterday’s pepperoni pizza in the fridge too.”
He nodded, “all three - I’m starved … so weak.”
X
“Well at least your appetite is coming back, that’s a good thing right? Must mean you’re healing,” she said after carefully chewing and swallowing a forkful of pasta.
Logan took a large bite out of his pizza slice, using that moment to quickly think. “Nah,” he said, shaking his head, mouth full of food, “I don’t feel hungry at all - still feel really … sick. I’m just making myself eat - I’ll probably end up chucking all this back up later.”
She frowned, alarmed, “Logan … maybe you should see Jean, you really don’t look well, maybe she can help.”
He cleared his throat and swallowed, realising he had played it too far, “no actually I’m beginning to feel miles better - I mean, a little better. See, I can even move my arms without much pain - only hurts a little. A couple more days and I’ll be back to normal.”
She sighed, “okay then,” and then reached out to blot his mouth with a napkin. “But seriously, slow down, the food isn’t going to go anywhere. At the rate you’re going, you’re more likely to choke to death and I failed the First Aid course Scott gave. Twice. So slow down.”
X
“You done?”
He nodded, stomach full from both his portions and her leftovers.
“You don’t feel sick do you?” she asked, brows kitting together.
He shook his head, “only a little, see, told you I’m getting better - slowly though …” She nodded, continued to stare at him and fidget uncomfortably. “What?”
“Do you need to - to … um … you know …” she mumbled at her feet, cheeks back to strawberry red.
“… No I don’t know. Do I need to what?”
She urged him to understand with her eyes but when he continued to stare at her, feeling clueless, she sighed and whispered, “the toilet. Do you need the toilet?”
Shit.
Not literally though.
God, that would probably put her off him completely. Forever.
“I’m fine,” he squeaked, cheeks almost as red as hers.
“Logan -”
“I said I’m fine. And anyway, I can go myself.”
“Logan you could barely sit up by yourself.” This is what happens when you lie. Karma comes knocking and makes you piss in front of the girl you’re trying to seduce.
“I feel better. I can manage.”
She huffed, bristling with annoyance. “Fine, I’ll go get Jean; she’s got those tube thingies that you stick your - equipment inside. It looks like a jug, and there’s even a pan for number twos-”
“Jesus fine!” he yelped, cheeks surpassing hers in their redness. No way was his equipment going in a jug, and definitely not in front of Marie.
“Will you let me help you?”
“Yes, but I don’t need to go now anyway.” Maybe he’d make a miraculous recovery tomorrow after all.
She sighed, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you should try and go. Otherwise you’ll have to wake me up in the middle of the night and hope you can hold it in until I get here.”
“I’m not two years old Marie!”
“Then stop acting like it. Do you know what happens when you hold in your pee? You get an infection and then Jean will have to fit you to a tube, so that your urine can drip out of you into a container. In front of everyone. In front of Scott.” He grimaced. “Do you want that?” He shook his head, chastened. “Good, now come on, just try will you.
She hoisted him up, straining with the effort, and he put a little more weight on her then he should have, still hoping that she might change her mind, but she huffed and puffed and dragged him to the bathroom, breathing like an asthmatic and red in the face.
She twisted around so that she was holding him up around the chest, with him facing the toilet. “Do you need to sit?” she asked, voice coloured with embarrassment.
“No,” he said quickly, “just need to take a leak.”
She nodded into his shoulder blade, then her fingers trailed down his stomach to his waistband, he watched it in shock, unable to believe that she was going to do this, wondering if he should stop her, tell her that he could take his trousers off himself.
She began pushing one side of his sweats down his hips.
He should tell her.
She was reaching for the other side now.
He should have already told her - but, not too late to start …
He opened his mouth to say it -
“Uh, should I … aim or …” she interrupted him.
He gulped.
Gulped again.
Dear lord …
“… Could you, please? That is … if you don’t mind, I don‘t think I can …” he asked, voice so high it sounded cartoon-ish.
She tensed, mumbled something into his back then reached one hand around to search for his cock. She missed it the first two times but managed to grab it the third time.
“Oh Jesus Christ!”he groaned.
X
“It’s nothing to be ashamed off …” she consoled. Sitting awkwardly on the bed near him. Her hand hovering over his arm as if to pat him.
Logan groaned, covered his face with his hands and groaned again.
“Logan, really, you couldn’t control it - it’s natural, you just reacted, that‘s all. Everybody does it -” her cheeks reddened, “um, well not me - I mean, well, yes me, it is natural after all. But I only do it every now and then.” Now this was getting interesting, he perked up and peeked at her from between his fingers. “But how often is normal anyway? I heard that for guys, it’s three or four times a week, helps keep their sperm healthy - do you do it that often?”
“No,” he stuttered, cheeks blazing again. “I - I do it more.”
“You should lessen it then - might help you … um, last longer -”
“Jesus! Can we drop the subject?”
She nodded. Went quiet.
“So how often do you do it?” he asked, too curious to keep silent.
She blushed, threw one of his new slippers at him and stormed out of the room.
X
Not surprisingly, that miraculous recovery happened the very next morning, before she could force him to do a number two in front of her, or give him tips on how to masturbate properly in order to keep your sperm healthy, or something. God … that was so tempting.
“Hey,” he called out to that shy girl Rogue hung out with, the one who would never meet his eyes and always looked as if she wanted to run away screaming. “You seen Rogue?”
“Uh - Ro - is … Uh …” she stuttered in alarm, her fingers wrapping around another girl’s elbow in a death grip.
“In her room,” her friend replied, yanking her bruised elbow out of her grip. “She had an … accident.”
“What?” Logan asked, eyes wide. “What accident? Is she okay?”
She girl shook her head, her yellow earrings swaying to and fro, “it’s terrible … Hank said - well, we could hardly understand him, all in Latin … but it sounded bad, must be bad right, if it’s in Latin? She’s in bed-”
Logan was running out of the room and up the stairs to Rogue’s bedroom before she could finish.
He burst in without knocking, gasping as he saw her stretched out on her bed, groaning, writhing in pain. “Marie … shit! Are you okay?”
She stilled, twisted around to face him and blinked blurrily, as if she couldn’t see who it was. “… Logan? Is that you? Come closer … I can’t - see … so bright …”
He shuffled closer, kneeled next to her bed. “What the hell happened? You were okay yesterday.” She tensed, arched her back and screamed in pain then flopped back down on the bed again. “Oh shit!” Logan swore, feeling impotent, “shit! I’ll go - go - what should I do?”
She searched for his wrist blindly and he gave it to her, “there’s nothing you can do … both Hank and Jean have already - looked … they said … there was nothing … but I’m … hopeful.”
“What happened?”
She sighed, sniffled, “skipping accident. Normally I only do a double jump at each 3rd turn but I got too arrogant, thought I could pull it off, so I did a triple jump instead - stupid … so, so stupid … The doctors say I might never skip again …”
Logan blinked, confused. “… A - a skipping accident?”
She nodded, closing her eyes tightly and breathing erratically. “I feel like such an invalid … Logan … you will look after me right?”
He nodded, still feeling bewildering lost.
“Thank you Logan,” she gushed, reaching out to stroke his cheek then stopping sadly as her hand began to spasm erratically. “Okay, can you start by undressing me and making me come please?”
… What? “… What?” Had he just heard right?
“That is okay with you right?” she asked, frowning worriedly, “if you’re feeling uncomfortable I could always get someone else to help keep my ovaries healthy. Three or four times a week … isn’t that right?”
He cleared his throat, “you uh … know.”
She broke out into peals of laughter, “oh yes! I figured out your master plan - boy was it difficult to crack.”
“When?”
She grinned, sat up on the bed, legs crossed, facing him. “As soon as I saw your clean, freshly laundered, blood free boxers.”
Oh crap … He’d gotten up to put on a pair after he’d masturbated the first time. “Maybe I crawled across the floor, in utter agony, to put something on just for you, so that I wouldn’t embarrass you.”
“Of course you did - oh and by the way, you’re a brilliant actor … so, so, convincing. I had an honest to god tear in my eye after that ’something is broken … inside’ monologue.” She clapped. “It was brilliant.”
He scowled, “I did not say anything was broken. And you nearly made me pee in front of you!”
She rolled her eyes, “And miss a chance to touch your utensils? … So … how long huh?”
He scowled again to distract her from his red cheeks, “for goddamn ages, you little twit, I’ve only been dropping hints for years now.”
“Oh,” she said, mouth open in surprise, “really? You can’t have been very good at it then.”
“Shut up, you’re just thick. Giving me advice on how to keep my fucking sperm healthy every time I try to flirt with you.”
She giggled, “well, it’s a good thing isn’t it? Now I get to reap the benefits of you and your healthy sperm.”
He stilled, “now?”
She nodded, smiled.
“As in right now?” he asked, just to be clear.
She nodded again, grinning widely.
With a toothy smirk, Logan collapsed on top of her, mouth scrabbling over her face to find her lips.
“Wait - one minute, come on Logan, let go. I found this really good book that gives you tips on how to have fun, safe sex. It has diagrams and bar charts too-”