Lying back on the bed as he heard the shower start, Logan relived the last eighteen hours in his head. Last night he had rousted a desperate young girl out of his trailer, taking what she had openly offered him with unmitigated relish. He had extracted a wildly outrageous promise from her, using it to claim her, take her and make her his. He now possessed her to an extreme and a depth much greater than she could have ever suspected when she offered him ‘anything’. Logan literally wanted everything from her and through some sick twist of fate, she had willingly but unknowingly agreed to give it to him. Whether she had had any choice but to agree, Logan wasn’t willing to examine too closely. He knew parts of him wouldn’t like the answer.
Logan wondered if he could really keep her long term. Would his honor let him? The concept that Marie was his and from now on would look to him for all things – food, clothing, survival, protection and especially affection appealed to him. The idea appealed to him with an intensity he hadn’t previously experienced. Maybe it appealed to him a little too much. He suspected the thought of being another person’s sole source of everything was something he had wanted…needed more and for a longer time than he had previously realized.
At one time, Logan had believed Jean could be that kind of one special person for him and he for her. Her rejection had caused Logan to give up on not only Jean but on the belief he would ever have someone to share that special bond with. But with Marie, it would be different. He would be the one in control, the one in charge of the giving and receiving. He would be the one to decide how deep their relationship went and how much of himself to share with her. Logan was beginning to wonder if deep down he had wanted someone of his own – to be his and his alone, for so long and so deeply that Jean might have just been in the right place at the right time.
Now that Logan was allowing himself to think about having someone of his own, considering it a real possibility, and experiencing a small taste of the control, he knew he wasn’t going to want to let go of it…of her, of Marie…EVER. Maybe it was the Wolverine in him but some deep part of Logan knew that after experiencing the wondrous sight of Marie; bathed in the morning light, spread out under him, satiated and glowing with sweat from sexual exertion he had allowed her, he would do anything to keep her - including gladly handing over his honor in order to have the privilege of making her look that way again.
Sprawled out on the bed, Logan reconsidered his decision to head home…back to Westchester. As he and Marie had fallen asleep together for the first time last night, returning to the mansion had seemed like the right course of action. Now, in the light of day, he wasn’t so sure. Marie needed to gain some weight and recover from her time in the lab both physically and mentally. Logan wasn’t sure exactly what she had had to endure while in captivity. He didn’t want to think about it in such based terms but he knew on a very personal level that there was no other way to really describe what both he and Marie had suffered in the labs as anything but captivity. He also knew deep down in his metal covered bones that no stay, however long or short, at the hands of those monsters was something you recovered from overnight. Hell he was still recovering and it had been twelve years.
Marie needed time to come to terms with it. She needed time to adjust. Logan wanted to and was determined to give her the time she needed. He also wanted to give her time to get used to the idea of what he expected, needed and wanted from her. Logan was sure eventually Marie would be able to provide him everything she had, all of her, but it would take him time to teach her exactly what ‘everything’ entailed. His return to the X-men was sure to cause an uproar amongst the school’s population. His return with Marie in tow and belonging to him was going to be the stuff of legends only whispered about for years to come around the mansion.
Thoughts of the lab and the X-men brought him up short. If they weren’t heading to Westchester right away, Logan needed to let Chuck know about the lab. For the last few years, the X-men had taken a very active role in gathering all the intelligence they could on reported mutant labs. They specifically focused on who was really funding and running them. Once the ‘egghead’ work - Logan’s term for it, on a particular location was completed, the team would plan and execute a 3R mission – raid, rescue, and recovery. Although in Logan’s mind the third R stood for revenge. They would break in, steal any records they could, deal out a little retribution – the part often left to Logan, free all of the mutants they could find, and happily blow the place to hell.
The information they had gathered so far was impressive. When Logan had left the mansion ten months ago, Chuck was close to going public with the entire operation including naming those involved which consisted of both public officials and heads of large private companies. An image of his lap full of a crying Marie floated to the forefront of Logan’s mind. Yes, definitely time for a 3R mission, heavy on the last R - Wolverine style. He would call Chuck when they went to breakfast.
As thoughts of breakfast brought him back to his woman-girl now in the shower, Logan came full circle in his head and decided he had done enough heavy thinking for now. It was high time he joined Marie.
Once again, Marie found herself examining her body in front of this particular hotel bathroom mirror. She certainly didn’t look any more like a woman now than she had last night. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She did carry at least one outward sign of Logan’s ownership - his bite mark on her neck. It was sure to turn into a deep purple bruise before long. Mare put pressure on the mark and a current shot though her from the bite to her core.
Ownership. Marie wondered what that really meant to him - and what it meant for her. She had belonged to a family once. When her mutation manifested her place in her family had been revoked with prejudice – quick and sure. She had been disowned and discarded following their righteous anger and indignant outrage. The denial of her very existence by her family left Marie with no one and nowhere to belong. Marie remembered Logan saying something similar to her last night. “You’ve got nowhere to go and no one to go to.”
Marie wondered if being owned by someone was somehow more permanent than being a member of a family. Logan said he would take care of her – feed, clothe, and protect her. Would he really do that? What about other things? Would he let her pick her own clothes? Would he let her have her own opinion about things? Or would he simply tell her what her opinions should be? Would he provide her what she wanted? Or only what he thought she needed? How much freedom did she really have? And what did belonging to him and giving him everything truly mean? Was there more to it than sex? Marie wondered if it would be like the special girls at the lab. She shuttered and hoped to God not. It was all so scary and confusing.
Logan hadn’t given her any reason to doubt his word that he would take care of her but all they had done thus far was sleep or fuck. He had told her very clearly what he expected of her. He hadn’t hit or hurt her - yet. Even when he had held her still with his cock in her mouth he hadn’t been hurting her, not like she would have expected. He had even called her beautiful.
Marie looked at herself in the mirror and weighted her options yet again. Run or stay? As she thought everything through, images swirled in her mind. The humiliating public scene when her parents threw everything she owned out on the curb for the garbage men to pick up, her months on the road – eating out of dumpsters and hitching rides with questionable truckers, the hazy weeks she had spent in the lab half drugged out of her mind so scared she was afraid to make a sound, the nights she had hid in the corner of her cell listening to the sounds of screams coming from all of the other girls’ cells down the hall. Shaking her head, hoping to banish the scary memories, Marie resigned herself to the conclusion that for right now at least, being with Logan was probably the best option she had. Coming to that nebulous decision, Marie started the water and got in the shower.
The water was warm. She let it run over her, relaxing her muscles and making her deadly skin prickle. Her skin – the thing that had started everything. Marie’s hand unconsciously moved to the collar around her neck. She hated it. Just like her gloves once had, the collar was most notable the outward sign of her mutation. It also marked her as a prisoner, an experiment. Yet the collar is what had prompted her to try to escape the lab. It also gave her the ability to follow through on her faithful offer to Logan. He would have left her to die on the side of the road if she hadn’t been able to sleep with him, she was sure of it. Without her collar, she wouldn’t be where she was at this moment – de-virginized in a spectacular fashion, thoroughly fucked - multiple times, and owned by the man in the other room…who had just opened the shower curtain.
The sight of Logan pulling the shower curtain back interrupted Marie’s thoughts and sent an unexpected thrill through her. Intellectually some part of her knew why she was attracted to him. He was gorgeous, a perfect example of all that is male. He had thick ripped muscles, broad shoulders and strong arms. His thighs looked like they could hold up the weight of the sky. His hands…in the truck he had told her he was a fighter, fighting for money in the cages. Marie suspected those hands had killed as well. Yet somehow, instinctively, she also knew his hands helped defined who he was beyond just being a fighter. She just wasn’t sure how.
Marie recalled her freshmen year of high school when they had studied Greek mythology. The male characters who had attracted her the most were heroes like Hercules and Ajax. They, like Logan, were best described as broad and strong. They took on the hardest jobs but weren’t necessarily the leaders. Marie sensed Logan was like that as well. Her friends had all gushed over the descriptions of Apollo and Paris. In Marie’s mind, those men seemed long and lanky. In the myths, they were the leaders who couldn’t be bothered to get dirty and die with their own men.
Marie knew her preference for strong men was why she had done what Logan asked of her. He had a commanding presence that exuded power and demanded compliance. Leashed control and strong will had always been something Marie felt drawn to. As a young girl, she couldn’t stand the characters of Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights or John Willoughby of Sense and Sensibility - both of whom her mother had adored. Marie’s favorites had always been characters of action. She preferred Pug Henry of Winds of War or Ethan Edwards of The Searchers. They had been some of her grandmother’s favorites as well. Marie wondered what her Gran would think of Logan and the situation Marie found herself in now.
Thinking of her family, especially her Gran, who was had been cut out her life before Marie’s mutation had made itself known, always made her very emotional. All of a sudden her emotions were all topsy turvy again. Marie felt like her emotions were a building wall of pressure inside her, threatening to spill over as tears.
Everything that had happened since she had woken up in a dark little cell in a lab roughly a less than a month ago was pushing on the back of her eyes, making them burn. Marie questioned her own sanity. She questioned if the lab had broken her will. She wondered if she would have sold herself to Logan if she hadn’t been captured first. There was no way this situation would make any sense to anyone let alone her Gran. Marie wondered if she would ever be able to even truly explain it to herself.
The man standing in front of her was naked, big, strong, and unquestionably dangerous. All of the doubt surrounding her decision not to run away from him as fast and as far as she could at the first opportunity came flooding back in an instant. She was afraid. Words like whore…victim…captive…lab…experiment…pain…ugly…gorgeous…trash…pleasure…torture…death…safety…care jumbled through her head. She shuddered, not knowing which words she associated with Logan and which with the lab.
“Back up, baby. Get under the water. Let me take care of washin’ you.” Logan’s soft tone and gentle words jolted Marie out of her distress. He stepped into the shower behind her, sliding her hair to one side and mumbling his request for the soap in her ear. His voice was deep and whispered against her skin. Arousal shot through her, sending tingles along the flesh of her arms and back. Marie bit back a moan at the reaction of her body to his deep voice. She was still struggling to understand why her body reacted to well to Logan’s commands.
“Marie? Hand me the soap, baby.” Asking a second time, Logan’s hands squeezed her hips. In response to his actions, Marie’s body naturally leaned closer to his. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen against the soft skin of her back. While mentally scolding herself for letting her body’s reactions rule her still conflicted her mind, Marie did as he asked. The mini hotel soap almost disappeared in his massive hand. Sliding his other hand down from her hip to her ass, Logan pressed Marie forward towards the warm water.
“Get your hair good and wet, baby. We’ll wash that after I’m done washin’ the rest of you.” Marie turned around and dipped her head back, observing Logan through her lashes. Tenderness and care towards her person wasn’t how she had expected him to act when he entered the shower. The look in his eyes when he pulled back the curtain was one of hunger. Marie had expected to be immediately pinned against the wall and dominated. Marie watched Logan working the bar of soap up into a good lather and then stepping back to watch the water cascade down her body, never taking his eyes from her.
Logan’s stare was hard and dark but it didn’t scare her. It felt like he was taking inventory of her body, checking for injuries or scars. A frightening thought suddenly occurred to Marie; maybe he was having second thoughts about her; maybe he was deciding he didn’t really think she was pretty or worth taking care of. Maybe in light of her frightened response to him this morning and after some thought, he was deciding she was too much trouble.
Her lips started quivering and she crossed her arms over her chest. Marie was fighting back tears when Logan pulled her gently out of the spray of the water and tenderly tucked her into his chest. Her hands came to rest limply on his back. He turned them so the water was hitting his back, sheltering her, and stroking her back and sides with soapy hands while he murmured soft words in her ear.
“Shh, don’t, little one. Everything is gonna be just fine. We’ll get clean and get some food.” He lifted her chin so she could see his face. “Come on now, step back and put your back to me. We’ll wash that first.” Logan didn’t quite know what was causing Marie’s obvious distress. She seemed fine when he first pulled the curtain back. It sometimes it happened this way with the kids and other ‘refugees’ the team would pick up who had had an especially hard time. Chuck and Hank called it a delayed traumatic stress reaction. Logan decided to just try to be tender, gentle, and calm in hopes that his demeanor would lessen Marie’s distress.
Giving her one last squeeze, Logan moved slowly, turning her by the waist so her back was towards him, and sliding her hair to one side again. His bite mark colored her alabaster skin. Bringing his month over her shoulder, he kissed the mark, careful to only brush it lightly with his lips. The sight of it made his pride surge. He had someone who belonged to him and she had agreed to stay with him. His honor yelled that he hadn’t given her much of a choice. Mentally giving his honor the finger, Logan put his hands on Marie’s shoulders.
“We’ll start with your arms, baby. Relax.” She did as he asked. Logan soaped her upper arms, trailing his hands down her forearms. He spoke soft words to her, his lips brushing her ear, his body not so accidently bumping against hers. Logan was trying to anchor her emotions with his physical presence.
Logan really wanted to run his hands over her breasts and see if he could make her come but he had said they would eat first. Fucking her against the shower would be grand but it couldn’t be his primary purpose right now. He wanted her to see their existence wasn’t going to be solely about sex so he held himself in check, moving away from her a half step. He used his one hand anchored to her hip to steady her while his other hand caressed her shoulder blades covering them with soap bubbles.
“Lean forward and put your hands on the wall, baby.” The sight of Marie bending forward just about broke any resolve Logan had wrangled against taking her then and there. She was absolutely delectable. Her small but round ass, ripe high breasts, shoulders that just begged to be bitten, and a little shapely waist that fit in his hands. Every aspect of her body made him want her more. If his lust hadn’t been temporarily satiated with their previous three rounds, Logan knew he would be cock deep in her now pounding out his pleasure with relish.
It had been a long time since he had last fucked a woman before Marie. It was a sacrifice Logan willingly made at the time, but no more. Now, he had a woman he didn’t have to hold back with. He wouldn’t be required to deny his physical needs ever again, unless he chose to, like now. He could make that choice to be tender and careful with her.
“Logan?” The sound of her voice jolted him out of his categorization of her body.
“It’s alright, baby.” Logan’s hands traveled down her spine to cup her buttocks. “I was just caught up in how great you look like this.” Squeezing both cheeks he dropped to his knees. Conscious choice or not, he needed to give his hands something to do or he would be fingering her into oblivion before either of them knew it. Beginning to soap her legs, he started talking to keep his mind occupied.
“When was the last time someone touched you, darlin’?” Marie had explained her mutation to him in the truck on the way to the hotel last night. He kept his words and tone soft. He was massaging as much as washing, making his touch caring rather than sexual. Working his strong fingers against the muscles of her calves, up the back of her knees, soaping each thigh individually, he could feel her large muscles groups relaxing. Logan knew when it came to bonding her to him and getting her to trust him how he cared for her when they weren’t in bed was going to be just as important as the pleasure he brought her in bed. Just how much he was actually enjoying giving her this kind of soothing touch was a surprise to him.
“Like this? Or…or sexually?” She voice was soft but not sleepy or sexually charged. Logan thought she sounded much calmer. He was working his way up her thighs. Her body trembled slightly as he touched her. He could smell hints of her arousal; it was low, lingering in the background. The tension was draining out of her body and Logan couldn’t detect any trace of fear.
“Yeah…no, like this,” Logan swept his hands across the back of her thighs and massaged the muscles there. “Not for sex but tender like?” He had worked his way up to her hips and butt. He wanted to wash her thoroughly but not tempt himself any more than he could stand. Logan found himself liking this moment too much to take the care he was giving her and replace it with sex and fucking.
“Never, well not that I can remember. It’s been a long time, I think.” Logan was fighting with himself; the idea that she didn’t have tenderness she could remember made him want to give it to her. His base needs - the want to smother her with his body to take her hard and fast getting his satisfaction was declaring full-fledged war against his intentions to be gentle with her. He couldn’t help himself and gave to his own desires but only a little.
“Damn shame. You deserve touch, little one…” He kissed her lightly across her shoulder blades while he hugged her to him. “Both ways.” Logan was standing up now, running soapy fingers through her folds, around her hips and over her ass. “You are so reactive, Marie, so supple.” He voice was raspy as his lips ghosted against her ear. Knowing his limited touching of her sex was as much as he could stand without going at her again, Logan moved his hands and covered her stomach, shoulders, and breasts with soap and bubbles. His cock was shift and dripping. He very much wanted to take her but he thought of something better. He would use this as lesson in how much he wanted her. He pulled her back firmly against his chest, pressing his cock into her lower back not to seduce her but only to show her how valued she was.
“You see baby, I just can’t get enough of you. Already, I can’t stand to not be deep in your sweet pussy.” She moaned, tilting her head forward. The collar around her neck caught Logan’s attention. Moving the rest of her hair off the back of her neck, Logan ran his soap slicked fingers around either side of her collar. The action was both tender and erotic. Moving the tight fitting collar slightly, Logan washed the skin normally hidden under it. Logan slid his fingers around to the front of her neck and repeated the same process.
“Lllooggaann…” Marie’s voice was a passionate whisper. Logan knew what it was like to have skin normally covered touched so lightly. He knew he could take her now. His tender touches not only relaxing her but gradually exciting her as well. He wanted her but yet he didn’t. The idea of keeping her aroused like this, keeping her as hot as he was hard while continuing to do soft things to her and slowly teasing her while they had breakfast sent a thrill through him. It would be like a hunt, a chase, a denial, a tease all of which Logan loved.
“I know, little one. I know you want it.” He stilled his hands on her stomach; he fingers spread wide resting just below her breasts and just above her hips. “I do, too. I won’t deny you…or us, but sometimes it’s worth the wait.” He glided them both towards the warm water. As the water surrounded them both, he rinsed her with great care. He whispered in her ear how pretty she was and how good she had been for him. He licked her neck as his hands feathered their way up her body, slooshing the soap away from her water slicked skin. “When we get done showerin’, we’ll get somethin’ to eat. There’s a diner just down the street in the strip mall.”
“Logan…I…” Logan licked his mark on her body. He felt his body quiver and knew that he would do anything she asked of him right now. He was lost in the softness of her. Wanted to have it rain down on him like the water from the shower, covering him, cleansing him. She was being so so good for him but she was trying to pull away from him. Something was wrong.
“I don’t really have anything to wear.” The practicality of her statement snapped him out of his romantic haze. Marie turned in his arms as her eyes trailed through the clear shower curtain towards the pile of hospital scrubs she had had on when he found her. Logan followed her eyes and realized her scrubs were the source of the unpleasant odor he had caught when he walked in the bathroom.
“I’ll get you somethin’.” His lips trailed against her neck, whispering heated words of mine, sexy and beautiful against her skin. “I got some thermals in the camper and you can wear a couple of my shirts.” He pulled away from her neck and looked her in the eye, cupping her chin with his hand. “You are my responsibility now, Marie. I’ll get you some clothes to wear. I won’t keep you naked and hidden away.” She bit her lip and nodded. Logan mentally complimented himself on reading her fear and giving her what she needed.
“Okay.” Taking a step back but keeping her hold on him, she brought them both out of the direct spray of the water. Marie looked a little more secure, a little more settled. He knew he was going to need to talk to her more about what they were going to be like but now was not the time.
“Now where’s the shampoo? Let’s get your hair done and get to the food.” Logan was looking for one of those little hotel bottles when he heard Marie hesitate.
“Um…there wasn’t any.” Logan scowled.
“Piece a shit hotel. Bet the fridge I paid extra for doesn’t work either. What did you use last night?” He had smelled the scent of some type of cleaning product in her hair then.
“The soap.” She gestured to the ever shrinking bar clutched in his hand. The Wolverine’s infamous grumpiness lunged forward.
“God damn it, girl!” He moved passed her, throwing open the curtain open. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Logan grabbed Marie’s pile of dirty clothes off the floor and stomped out of the bathroom. He knew why he was pissed. She was his, she was his to care for, to provide for. She must learn to tell him when she needed things that she didn’t have.
As he tugged his dry jeans up his wet legs, Logan’s rational mind fought through the fog of the Wolverine’s gut reaction. Marie hadn’t known his full plans for her when she had showered last night. There was no reason for her to think he would have provided shampoo or anything else for her beyond what he had already – a ride, some food, and a bed for the night in exchange for a good hard fucking. Shoving his feet into his boots, Logan started to feel like an ass. Grabbing his jacket, her dirty clothes, and the room key, Logan turned back towards the bathroom. Halfway there he stopped himself.
“Just get the shampoo from the truck then go back and apologize you idiot.” Muttering to himself, Logan again turned and marched out of the room headed for his truck, throwing the putrid clothes Marie had been wearing in the outside trashcan as he passed.
In just a matter of minutes, he had unhooked the trailer from the truck and its camper top and was rummaging through the camper gathering up his toiletries bag and several extra items – new spare toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, shampoo, his razor, an extra pack of razor blades, and shaving cream. Logan figured while he was here he might as well grab Marie something to wear and save himself another trip. Pulling clothes out of various places and bags, Logan quickly realized he was beyond the need to do laundry – everything wasn’t just dirty, some of it was ripe. Although he had no qualms about giving Marie something to wear marked with his scent, he didn’t want to give her something overtly dirty.
How he had managed not to go stark raving nuts in this pig sty over the last ten months, he didn’t know. Logan wasn’t a neat freak by any means but the camper was bordering on disgusting. It just proved to him how out of sorts he had been since he had left the mansion. Things hadn’t been right since then. Sleeping in the camper had become impossible for him, the thoughts and dreams of Jean plagued him so badly he couldn’t relax. He had had to start renting hotel rooms just so he could sleep. The only thing he had been able to use the camper for was jacking off to a litany of fantasies starring Jean - his unattainable love.
Just as Logan thought of Jean, his nose was assaulted with her scent. He was digging things out of his reserve duffle bag. He had stowed it under his bunk when he had left the mansion all those months ago and he hadn’t needed it since. It was an extra large one designed to move a platoon’s support gear rather than an individual soldier’s. Logan used the bag for his backup clothes - his heavy winter coat, extra blankets, a subzero sleeping bag, along with his supply of spare thermals and extra socks. He was thinking those spare thermals would at least keep Marie clothed and warm until he could get her some clothes of her own.
Sticking his face in the bag, Logan used his nose to locate the source of Jeanne’s scent. His fingers skated over something silky. Wrapping his fingers around whatever it was Logan yanked his hand out of the bag, revealing a pair of black silk boxers. He didn’t need to bring them to his nose. The smell coming from them was so strong he knew they were the source of Jean’s scent.
The boxers had been a Christmas gift from her. Well, the card had been blank but the package had been on his bed with a note saying only “wear them when you come for me”. The double entendre wasn’t lost on Logan. He and Jean were still in the teasing stage then. Logan had just started to pursue her seriously. She would flirt back and let Logan catch her in a darkened hallway or in the locker room after a mission. They would paw at each other furiously until Logan got a hand almost down her panties or the cup of her bra up over a breast. Jean would always stop him at that point promising he could touch her later when they were really together. All the while she would continue to stroke and torment his cock through his clothes, claiming she knew his cock would feel like silk once it was in her hand. No, there was no mistaking it; the present couldn’t have come from anyone but Jean.
Logan hated underwear of any kind but he had worn these boxers every time he knew he was going to be alone with Jean, even after she announced her engagement to Scott at the New Year’s Eve party a few days later. He had worn these boxers and done just about anything else Jean had asked of him for eleven months before having enough. When Jean hadn’t chosen him, he had left, in the vein hope that by getting away from the mansion and not having to see Jean on a daily basis it would allow him time and distance to forget he ever loved her. Why then ten months later was he standing here holding his boxers that only Jean knew about and therefore could have been the only one to put these in his camper?
Logan knew he hadn’t packed the boxers. In fact, he had thrown them against the bathroom mirror of his room after catching a glimpse of himself. He had been disgusted at the sight of himself, fleeing his home over a failed love. How the hell had they gotten in this bag? Logan remembered putting this bag and his two smaller ones on his bed the night he left. He had gone to drop off a note for Chuck and around the back of the mansion to get his truck. The trek through the garden had taken him longer than he had expected when he accidently ran into Jubilee and Hank.
Noticing a strange texture on a section of the silk, Logan brought them to his nose for the first time. This wasn’t just Jean’s everyday scent. Normally she smelled of winter green and chestnuts with her hair having the tang of citrus. He didn’t think he would ever forget that combination of smells. He had followed it around for so long it was burned in his brain. What was on the boxers wasn’t the mixture of her normal scent or even sweat from exercise or exertion from a mission either.
He knew the mixture of Jean’s post exercise smell, the wintergreen was muted and the citrus stood out. Logan had spent too much time pushing her up against the training mats when the gym was empty to not have memorized that scent as well. Jean’s mission scent was spiked with adrenaline and reminded Logan of wine that had been left open too long on the verge of becoming vinegar. He had tracked that scent during missions in order to been there if she needed him. This scent wasn’t quite any of those, although there was an element of the spice of exertion. This odor was richer…stronger…deeper somehow.
A wave of disgust washed over Logan as it clicked into place exactly what this scent was. It had taken him a minute to recognize the elements in it because the smell was more acidic than it would have normally been due to the age. This scent…this scent was the most intimate and erotic of all scents…this was Jean’s come smeared on and saturated into his boxers. There was no way he put them in the bag and he had never been present when Jean had had an orgasm.
Logan crushed the boxers in his hands, trying to hold down his burgeoning anger while his heart tore itself asunder all over again. Jean knew how sensitive and reactive his enhanced senses were. She knew how much he depended on them, especially his olfactory senses. She knew he could smell an open beer half a mansion wing away and that he could determine whether it was a Molson Canadian or Canadian Light with a single whiff. She knew he could track Mystique or Magneto at eight hundred yards through a crowded city.
Worse yet Jean knew his body sometime involuntarily reacted to different stimuli, like when his claws emerged anytime he heard, saw, or smelled Sabertooth. Jean knew explicitly and implicitly what the smell of her arousal did to him, how hard it made him, how much it made him want her. She had experienced his reaction firsthand on more than one occasion. Several times she had even made a point of teasing him about it, using both her hands and her “gift”. Her favorite taught had been to barely brush her hands against his cock while pushing erotic images into his head.
In all of the time Logan had pursued her, chased her, followed after her, she had let him catch her but only to a point. Whispered words, projected erotic suggestions, broken kisses, the quick skating of her hands over his pectorals muscles, a fleeting grope through his jeans here and there, topped off with an occasional pornographic email from an account that was deleted as soon as the email was sent. All of those things wrapped around a promise of maybe one day there would be something more. Those were the only things he had gotten from Jean, the flirt, the tease, the taught, the grope, and the promise that someday she would let him fuck her blind. Those were the only things she had allowed him. Logan growled and his fists clenched as Jean’s most common excuses for putting him off throughout the long months he had pursued her echoed through his head.
He had wanted to believe what she told him; her relationship with Scott was to save face, designed to present an ideal picture of well adjusted mutants, to please Xavier, to further her career and any other damn thing she could name as to why she continued to choose Scott over him. She had repeatedly told Logan he had to wait, that it would all ultimately fall into place. All those months, Logan had wanted to believe he and Jean were star-crossed lovers. That Jean really did love him. And he would have her eventually, if was he just patient enough.
If that was true, how in the hell could she go and do this to him? How could she bait him like this, torture him like this? And for what purpose? She had said she couldn’t leave Scott for him and wouldn’t take Logan into her bed as her lover. Why then would she plant something like this in his camper? She knew it would drive him crazy, keeping him thoroughly wrapped up in her, wanting her, aching for her. Had Jean done this because she had changed her mind? Or was she trying to manipulate him, keep him on a leash, trailing around after her like an animal?
Mentally, Logan was completely divided on the subject. He wanted to believe he was too road wary and too cynical to fall for some elaborate game of control and manipulation like the one it appeared Jean might be playing. He wanted to believe that after his own horrific life experiences, his mind would never allow him to be manipulated so thoroughly and blindly. However, Logan was self aware enough to recognize his own Achilles heel.
Never in all of the torture and coercion he could remember experiencing had anyone ever used kindness, affection, and the promise of a relationship to manipulate him. Had Jean used her soft voice and kind eyes to string him along? Had she just played a part for him? A part especially designed to appeal to a man like him – the role of a wild unrestrained woman forced into a repressive relationship for the good ‘the cause’ who secretly longed to be with him?
A distressing thought struck Logan. If the answer to that question was no, if Logan gave Jean the benefit of the doubt and believed she wasn’t playing him, why…why would she have prick teased him for so long? Wouldn’t they have just fucked each other and gotten it over with? Been secret lovers? If she truly loved Logan but couldn’t bring herself to betray her commitment to Scott, wouldn’t Jean have sent Logan away long ago to ease the pain of both their hearts? It had all of the makings of a Greek tragedy or a Shakespeare play. It turned Logan’s stomach.
Logan tried, standing there in his camper, amongst clothing and bedding all piled around him and thrown together, he tried… tried to give Jean the benefit of doubt. Something down deep in him…again maybe it was the Wolverine, was yelling at him; arguing that this had to have been a calculated and planned trick on Jean’s part, another pick tease. His mind started throwing up pictures of himself, of Jean, of them together; talking, flirting, fleeting kisses, and the not so accidental brushes of forbidden body parts. Had all this been just a giant mind fuck to her?
Never had Jean said she loved him. Logan hadn’t really realized that until now. The fact struck him like one of Storm’s lightning bolts. Up to this point analyzing and dissecting his relationship with Jean had been something Logan had shied away from. Since he had left the mansion, Logan had been telling himself now that it was over. If he didn’t think about their so called affair it would help him stop dreaming of her and seeing her in every woman he met. Help him forget.
Love, it was something Logan had told Jean he felt for her often in words and had tried to show her with his deeds and actions. Looking back on it now Logan realized for Jean their time together seemed to have always been about sex and lust. Even when they weren’t hiding in an empty classroom groping each other like students, Jean had turned the tables on what Logan wanted. She had required little displays of devotion from him along with proof of his intentions in the form of his extended celibacy. Willingly Logan endured eleven months of it, denial as a way prove himself to her. And still…still she had continued to deny him any real access to her body and his own physical or mental release when they were secretly together.
Finally when Logan could stand the torture no longer, he had confronted Jean, demanding she choose or let him go. Jean had turned him down flat, classifying him as unworthy of her. Logan realized that now as he thought back on her rejection of him. Oh, she hadn’t directly said he was unworthy of her but the message had been clear – he was okay to flirt and tease, but not okay to show to the world or even to their friends, nor was he apparently even worthy enough to fuck. But he was worthy enough to string along? To torture, tease and otherwise manipulate?
The Wolverine in him saw red. His emotional mind accepting what his logical mind was refusing to accept just yet. Jean had betrayed him. Her treatment of him was no different than those damn doctors who had stolen his memories and turned him into a weapon. Jean had used him and was still using him for her own amusement. He needed to get out of here, move, think, get the smell of Jean out of his camper, out of his clothes. How ironic? He had run from his home trying to forget her but she had made sure she had followed him, hounded him, and allowed him no peace.
“BITCH!!” Logan raged as his own stupidity, at Jean, at his life. Throwing the boxers across the small space and frantically gathering up everything and anything that could be washed Logan looked around at the mess. Everything, he had to wash all of it, before he slept in here again or dare bring Marie in here for the first time. He would bathe the camper antiseptic if he had to. He abhorred the scent of antiseptic but anything had to be better than the stench of Jean.
A SNIKT echoed throughout the small camper. Logan extended his claws hoping the pain would help him focus. The tips of his claws ended just shy of the only neat pile still left among the mess. It contained a green plaid flannel button-down shirt, a set of thermals, and a folded pair of socks; the clothes he had set aside for Marie.
“Marie…shit!” Retracting his claws, grabbing the clean clothes and the bag of toiletries, Logan tumbled out of the camper. He wasn’t thinking straight yet. He needed time to digest what he had found. He couldn’t deal with trying to hide what was upsetting him but nor could he talk about it, especially not with Marie. Storming into the room, throwing the clothes and the toiletries on the bed, all but the shampoo, Logan marched into the bathroom and yanked open the shower curtain.
“Here, girl,” He practically threw the shampoo bottle at her. “Take this shit and use whatever of it you want. I’m goin’ out.” He wasn’t even really looking at her, his vision just a haze of anger, rage and betrayal. “I’ll be back after awhile. Stay right here.” With that Logan turned on his heel and left, slamming the bathroom door shut on his way out.
A shocked Marie stood there in the cooling spray, shower curtain hanging out of the tub, water hitting the floor, bathroom door still rattling on its hinges when the second door slam came. It could have been a sonic boom the way it reverberated in Marie’s ears and throughout her body. She had no idea what she had done or what he would do to her now.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here is chapter 3, I will warn you it is sex free. I know, I know, but I promise more sex is on the way. I hate the character of Jean so she doesn't fair well in this story and in this chapter specifically.
For those of you who read chapter 2 when it was first posted, I have gone back and done a little fine tweaking. A couple of you had said that you felt it was a little too non-con so I changed a few things. The meat of it is still there and you may not even notice the changes but I did want to let folks know I have updated the previous chapter.
I would expect to have chapter 4 up sometime around the end of the month. Enjoy!
For those of you who read chapter 2 when it was first posted, I have gone back and done a little fine tweaking. A couple of you had said that you felt it was a little too non-con so I changed a few things. The meat of it is still there and you may not even notice the changes but I did want to let folks know I have updated the previous chapter.
I would expect to have chapter 4 up sometime around the end of the month. Enjoy!