The next morning, Logan waited outside of the boys’ locker room as they filed in after gym class. He yanked Alderdyce out of the group just before he went in, pulling him over by the shirt and slamming him up against the wall.

“Hey, if this is about the fire down in the stables, I swear it wasn’t me this time,” John said.

Logan smiled. “Fire?”

“Oh. Fuck. Listen man, I-"

“Can it, Flame Boy,” Logan said. “I need a favor.”

Turned out the ‘favor’ Logan wanted this time was one that he was pleased to oblige, and so it was only a matter of minutes before John had his mouth wrapped around Bobby Drake’s popsicle, and Logan had a digital recording of said mouth on said popsicle in his hand.

Christ, if only he hadn’t stopped the camera rolling before he’d caught Drake’s reaction. He had to literally swallow back a chuckle as he watched the kid slip and slide all over the shower stall, scrambling for his balance as he grabbed at the boxer shorts around his knees.

Logan put on his best mean face and cleared his throat authoritatively. “You,” he said, nodding toward a smirking John. “Get lost.”

He kept his eyes glued on the Icepick as John sauntered out of the locker room. From there, it took only a skillfully raised eyebrow to bring the kid to his scrawny knees. Literally. He watched with disguised amusement as Bobby knelt on the shower floor, hands coming together in prayer position.

“Look, I’ll do anything you want,” Bobby said. “Just please don’t tell Kitty. Please.”

Later that morning, he snuck into Scott’s office and listened in on the new intercom system as Bobby spoke – no, sang – his praises to Rogue. Oh sure, Logan acts all tough on the outside, but underneath it all he’s really blah blah blah...He has this deep moral blah blah blah...He once saved a bunny from a burning blah blah...

Bunny? The fuck...?

Logan moved his finger to the ‘MIC’ button, preparing to make some sort of announcement over the loudspeaker - anything to break up the conversation - but the girl’s suddenly very interested ‘Really?‘ stopped him in his tracks. He leaned back in Scott’s leather chair, listening on for a few minutes until the conversation gradually turned from him to other things.

He shut the intercom off, smiling to himself at a mission well accomplished. That afternoon, he would arrange for a chance run-in with Rogue that she was not likely to soon forget.

He was just about finished with his set when he heard the giggling of female voices heading out of the girls’ locker room. He exhaled sharply as he pressed the barbell to the gym ceiling one last time and held it. His arm and chest muscles twitched with exertion as he held the barbell over his eyes, a low growl escaping him as he held the weight. A drop of sweat slid down his knuckle and fell onto his cheek.

Just as his muscles reached failure, he leaned his arms back and dropped the barbell onto the rack behind him. He lay on the bench, breathing deeply for a few moments, and then he sat up and grabbed the white towel hanging on the side of the weight machine. He slung it over his shoulder and stood up from the bench. Turning, he realized – none too surprisingly, heh – that he’d had an audience.

Near the entrance of the girls’ locker room, Rogue stood with two of her friends. That yellow wearin’ kid – Jamboree? Jujube? – and that other one that could x-beam herself through walls or whatever.

His shirtlessness had had the desired effect on the three young ladies if their reactions – some of which he saw, others which he sensed otherwise – were to be believed. The wall-beamer let out a small whimper under her breath as Rogue's jaw went slack, mouth opening slightly. Yellow did nothing but smile broadly.

“Hey, Rogue,” Logan said.

“Hi, Logan!” Yellow said, piping in. “How are you-”

“…grrrrrrr....”

“Right. “ She nodded. “Homework, lots of it. Kitty too. C’mon, Kitty.”

She grabbed the other girl by the sleeve and tugged her along in spite of her obvious reluctance. They exited the gym, leaving him alone with Rogue. She stood before him in silence as the door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing loudly in the now empty gym.

He slowly stepped toward her, watching as her eyes roamed his naked torso. She cleared her throat softly.

“I should go,” she said to his pecs, pointing a thumb back over her shoulder. “I’m late for…something.”

She turned and headed for the exit.

“You wanna know what your problem is?” he asked, just before she reached the door. She stopped and turned to face him again, a look of feigned bewilderment on her face.

“Not really,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You need to loosen up,” he said, continuing his slow steady pace in her direction. “A lot. Stop lettin’ your brain get in the way. Might also help if you wore less clothing.”

Rogue’s mouth dropped open.

“Well thank you for that analysis, Dr. Logan,” she said. Then, with narrowed eyes, “You know, this is going to come as a HUGE blow to your ego, but not every woman on the planet wants to have sex with you. Especially not this one.”

Logan furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “You don’t?“

“No,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “I don’t.”

“That’s odd,” he said, coming to stand before her. “’Cause I didn’t even realize we were talkin’ about sex, darlin’. I was tryin’ to give you some advice on your combat training.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as a hot blush rose to her face. She looked away, flustered, as she realized he was talking about her performance in class earlier.

“What I was trying to say...” He stepped into her space until she backed up against the door of the gym. “Is that you’ve gotta to learn to let go. Trust your instincts.”

He was standing close enough to her now that her scent wrapped all around him, belying what she tried so hard to hide from him. She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes guarded and yet vulnerable all at once as he held her gaze.

“Just follow your instincts, Rogue,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he blocked her against the door. He leaned in, dizzying in her scent.

Thinking back on it later that day, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d raised his hand to her face just then - he fuzzily recalled it being something innocent, like brushing away a silver hair stuck in her lip gloss, or a stray eyelash on her cheek – but when he did, it was too late for Rogue to stop him. Her eyes flickered to his hand just before his fingers brushed over her skin, and her scent suddenly spiked with panic.

“No, don’t--!” she said, flinching, but it was already too late. It was the last thing he would remember clearly before a white hot bolt of agony shot through his fingers, and down his arm, engulfing his entire body within milliseconds.

He felt like every cell in his body was being peeled open like an orange and then set on fire. Light became dark and dark became light, time turned on its axis and spun so that the past and the present collided, and somewhere in there he faintly heard Rogue shrieking his name as his head smacked against the polished gym floor and everything went black.

When he opened his eyes an undetermined number of hours later, it was to the glaring fluorescent pot lights of the med bay and Jean’s upside-down face giggling over him. He sat up on the examination table, almost hitting his head on the lights hanging over him. The room spun around him, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“What the fuck, Jean?” he said, his voice dry and cracking. “You didn’t tell me anythin’ about her skin.”

Jean smiled innocently. “Well, I told you she was untouchable.”

“Yeah, you said untouchable. Not ‘enough mega-wattage to power an entire freakin’ continent’.” Logan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus. Felt like she almost killed me.”

“Yes, well if you’d molested her any longer, she probably could have,” Jean said, almost snorting in her attempt to contain her giggles. His stern stare only seemed to make Jean’s fight all the more difficult, and she finally gave in, laughing loudly.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Logan said.

“Oh, but I am,” she said. “'Like candy, Jean. From a baby.’ Who’s the baby now?”

Logan watched, unamused, as she doubled over in mock fetal position, imitating him on the floor of the gym. She straightened up after a few moments of laughter, clearing her throat to calm the last chuckles. He narrowed his eyes at her as she approached him, a knowing glint in her gaze.

“What did she do to me?” he asked.

She came to stand before him, filling the space between his legs, and reached a hand out, slowly walking her fingers up one of his arms. “Why don’t you go ask her?” she said.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Logan said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against his body. “How about you and I call off this silly bet, I fuck you right here on this exam table, I go fuck the girl anyway, and then I piss the hell outta this place for good?”

He pulled her in for a kiss, but she lifted her hand to his lips just before they made contact.

“Now, now, Logan,” she whispered. “Rules are rules.”

He growled impatiently against her fingers, enjoying the veiled reaction it drew from her.

“In the meantime,” she said, her warm breath on his lips, driving him mad with need, “I suggest you go shine up that bike.”

“And I suggest you go buy yourself somethin’ black and lacy,” he said.

Jean smiled demurely as she stepped out of his space. She gathered up her charts and headed for the door of the med lab.

“Happy hunting, Logan,” she said, turning back to him for a moment. Then she swung the door open, and stepped out.

xxXXxx

That night, he found himself in an unusual predicament: horny as fuck and no pussy in sight.

He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets twisted all around him. Frustration swirled inside of him as his aching erection pressed insistently against the seam of his sweatpants. Christ fuck, he felt like a goddamn fifteen year-old. As much of a fifteen year-old as he could imagine, anyway, since he’d never actually remembered being one.

He needed to get laid. Soon.

It was such an unusual situation, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in it. On any other night like this, he would simply call Kristie or Shannon over for a little fun. But he couldn’t do that tonight, could he? Not when he was supposed to be courting an awkwardly-hot-barely-out-of-her-teens girl so that he could fuck an undeniably-hot-redhead, and all so that he could have the ultimate satisfaction of screwing Scott and this place once and for all.

Of course, thoughts about how Kristie or Shannon couldn’t come over only led to thoughts of Kristie and Shannon in general, which led to him not being able to not think about that amazing thing Kristie could do with a shot glass – or was that Shannon? – which led to…

Logan growled, low and deep, as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his ever constricting sweatpants and shoved them down over his hips. His erection all but sprang into his hand as he wrapped his fingers tightly around the hot, thick length of it. He gave himself a firm squeeze, hissing in pleasure as a small drop of milky liquid escaped the head and dribbled down over his knuckle.

His hips rocked up from the bed as he thrust into his hand, grunting in pleasure as the silky lubrication coated the entire shaft. The bed springs protested beneath him, groaning and squeaking as his hips found their own wild rhythm.

His mind was a whirring kaleidoscope of images and sensations as he stroked himself closer and closer to ecstasy: torn fishnet stockings, smeared lipstick. The soft mounds of a woman’s breasts filling his hands as the excited nipple stabbed into his palms. Strong legs wrapped around his thrusting hips, wanting him deeper. Deeper. A pleading moan, hot breath against his ear, fingernails digging into his lower back, and then…

“Grr!”

Logan turned onto his stomach and ground his hips down into the mattress, squeezing himself firmly in his hand as he thrust with abandon. He felt himself quickly approaching the point of no return, and his mind flipped to the set of images he almost always used to bring him over: impossibly long legs, stilettos digging into his calves as he pumped into her yielding flesh, a tumble of…dark brown hair?

He found his thoughts going there before he could stop them. Somewhere in the logical part of his mind, he knew that the idea of screwing Rogue now should be about as sexy to him as licking an electrical socket, but the animal in him knew only of the sudden charge of hot desire it sent burning through his loins. He stroked himself furiously as his mind flooded over with the sensation of silk-gloved hands roaming all over him, his teeth sunk into the flesh of her neck, her whimpers and moans beneath him as a bolt of silver white hair tickled at his chest, his tongue running over all of that sweet, pale, deadly skin…

He growled loudly as the room around him seemed to go all white, nothing registering in his brain but the sensation of his climax bursting forth. He came violently, roaring into his pillow as his hips shuddered beneath him, an orgasm so intense he felt like it had been ripped from his toes. He lay there on his stomach for a few long moments, breathing heavily into his pillow as he tried to gather his senses.

When he’d caught his breath, he turned lazily onto his back again, feeling sated and calm. Within minutes, blissful sleep was wrapping around him, and he drifted off to dreamland with a smile on his face.

He knew what Rogue wanted now. And tomorrow - after he’d found her, let her know he was okay – he was going to give it to her.