Story Notes:
This bunny bit hard and fast, but then made me jump through all sorts of hoops to finally nail down all the details. The idea originally came to me when I read a story on this site called 'Beautiful' by 'Matt'. In that story, Logan is with Jean, but she cheats on him every chance she gets and he doesn't seem to notice. Given his outrageously sensitive and accurate sense of smell, this struck me as odd, if not downright impossible, and that got me thinking...
Author's Chapter Notes:
This really is a ROGAN, I swear, although it may not seem like it right at first...
Unlikely Bedfellows, Unholy Alliance

by

Moviemom44

Jean was still gasping in the throes of her orgasm when she heard the familiar sound of Harley pipes rumbling toward the institute's front gate.

As her latest conquest slammed his cock deep inside her and came with a guttural groan, she told him, "You better go, lover."

"Why? Once has never been enough before," Bobby replied, still gulping for breath, as he dipped his head to lick one of her nipples. He watched as the glistening mauve flesh rose to its full height.

"Well, if you think you can get me off again before Tall, Dark and Claw-some parks the bike and comes upst—"

Bobby was out of her and off the bed like a shot. As he dove for the moonlit window, he tripped over the pants he hadn't even gotten all the way off before Jean had pulled him down on top of her. Looking out into the night, he saw Wolverine turn the motorcycle into the long driveway that led to the garage.

Holy shit, what had he been thinking? What was he even doing here? Risking his life to screw his chemistry teacher, that's what. Sure, she was one hot, lonely widow, and God, the things she could do with her tongue…but she wasn't worth losing his balls over. The affair she'd been having with Logan ever since Scott died was the worst kept secret in the mansion. And everybody knew how the Wolverine felt about anybody touching what was his.

"I'm outta here. See you in class, Dr. Grey," he mumbled as he slammed the door behind him and sprinted down the hall to the safety of his own room.

Jean didn't hear a word he said. As soon as he'd gotten out of bed, she'd done the same and headed for the shower. She figured she had maybe ten minutes before Logan came in. As the hot water stung her back, she reached for the gardenia scented body wash and her loofah.

While she scrubbed her skin, spreading the creamy, fragrant suds from her neck to her toes, she hoped Bobby hadn't been too upset at being sent away. She hadn't had nearly enough of his eager attentions to satisfy her completely before she'd heard the motorcycle roaring up to the gate. But if she ever wanted to have the 19-year-old's rather large and amazingly agile dick inside her again—and, oh, did she ever—then she couldn't let Logan find them together. That would be disastrous, especially for Bobby. The first chance she got, she'd explain to the young man that making him leave wasn't meant to punish him; she was saving his life.

*-*-*

Logan heard Bobby's door close just as he reached the top of the stairs. It was past midnight. What the hell was the kid doing prowling the halls at this hour? He damn sure better not have been in her room…

He sniffed his way along the darkened corridor, but as he passed Jean's door, Icepop's scent dissipated and was gone completely by the time Logan reached the last door on the right. He stood there for a moment, listening to the deep, even breathing of the room's sole occupant. No nightmares tonight, thank God. He wished with his whole soul for the days when she welcomed his return instead of fearing his very presence, like she did now, because of those nightmares. He brushed his fingertips against her door, fought the urge to open it just to watch her while she slept, and then turned and walked reluctantly back to his original destination.

He hesitated, his hand on the door knob, conjuring images guaranteed to bring him to a raging arousal—-soft, silky ivory skin, a strand of snow-white hair wound around his fingers, a Southern drawl breathlessly calling him 'sugah'…

He held fast to the sensation of his cock swelling into his already tight jeans, letting it build, letting his body's needs take over when his mind had to swerve abruptly and focus on the redhead he was about to fuck into oblivion.

*-*-*

Sure enough, ten minutes and two different heavily scented body washes later, Jean turned off the shower just as the bedroom door opened. She heard Logan's boots clomp across the carpet. She held her breath, listening for the thud of his stuffed duffel hitting the floor—-the signal that he would be staying for longer than a week—-but the sound never came. Damn.

Of all the lovers she'd taken since her husband's death, Logan stood head and shoulders above the rest when it came to satisfying her almost constant craving for sexual contact. One night under him was like a week with a lesser man—-or a month with Scott. But his prowess came at a price—-monogamy.

If she wanted him for her own, he had told her on their first night together, then she had to be his and his alone. She had readily agreed. And she was faithful to him—-as long as he was at the mansion. But he never stayed more than a few weeks and then he was gone again, sometimes for months on end. She tried to wait for him, but dammit she had needs and St. John had the most delicious way of looking at her as if he were seeing her naked right there in the classroom or across the dining hall. What was a sex-starved girl to do?

Temptation surrounded her—-St. John's bedroom eyes, Remy's toe-curling accent, the bulge in Bobby's jeans, Warren's magnificently sculpted torso—-and she had succumbed to them all, taking each of them to her bed, reveling in their ardent attentions.

But now the best of the best was back. She left the towel on the bathroom floor and went to greet him wearing nothing but a smile.

*-*-*

"You smell like a garden, Red," Logan crooned as he brushed her wet hair behind her shoulder and nuzzled her neck.

Cautiously, he let his true thoughts pass through his mind.

Do you have to use so much flowery shit to wash with? Christ, I've been in roadside toilets that use less deodorizer and still manage to actually cover up the stink.

"And you smell like you've been on that bike for three days straight," she returned, oblivious to his unspoken criticism. Apparently, his recently installed defenses against her telepathic abilities were fully operational. Hallelujah.

Looking up at him with raw hunger in her eyes, she opened his belt buckle. "Were you in that big a hurry to see me again?"

"Aren't I always?" he replied, bending to take one hard nipple into his mouth while he teased the other with his thumb. He growled as she arched into him and ran her hand over his crotch.

"Oh, God, Logan, I've missed you so much. I need you…" she purred as she unzipped his jeans and shoved them down past his hips, freeing his already throbbing erection.

"Show me, Red," he coaxed as he pulled his shirt off over his head and began trailing kisses from her ear to the base of her throat. "Show me how much you missed me."

Dropping to her knees, she took him deep into her mouth, running her tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. Grasping his hips with both hands, she set a vigorous rhythm, her head bobbing up and down as she applied a constant, even suction.

Eyes closed, head thrown back, he bucked into her warm, slippery mouth. Holy Christ, he really had missed this. The woman could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. He felt his balls tighten and considered coming in her mouth, but quickly decided against it. He knew she'd expect to be fucked and he didn't want to be here any longer than he had to. So to spare himself the recovery time, he grabbed a handful of her hair and growled, "Let go and turn around."

She did as she was told, waiting on all fours while he pulled off his boots and jeans. She moaned in anticipation as he knelt behind her and aligned himself with her dripping wet core. He slid into her fast and hard, pounded into her, his hips pumping like a jackhammer as she rocked back into him on each furious thrust.

She heard his breath hissing through his clenched teeth and knew he was about to unload inside her.

"Aaah, fuck…fuck…Oh, God…don't come…don't come without…me…please, Logan…" she begged.

He held tight to her hip with his left hand and found her clit with his right, rubbing it expertly with his fingers as he pumped his cock into her with urgent, punishing strokes.

"Come for me, Red…that's it…oh, God…oh, yeah…right there…there it is…Right! Fucking! Theeeeeeeerrrrre!"

She screamed his name as their orgasms exploded into one another simultaneously, sending both of them into spasms of ecstasy that shook them until they both collapsed, sweaty and spent, onto the carpet.

*-*-*

Logan rolled onto his side and gathered the still trembling woman in his arms. Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed and climbed in beside her, spooning her from behind.

"I guess you missed me, too," Jean said softly.

Like a toothache.

He felt her stiffen and instantly regretted his mental slip. He couldn't afford any stupid mistakes now, not when he was so close to reaching his goal. But when he searched his mind to see if she was listening in, he realized he was all alone in his head. For now.

"You OK, Jean?" he asked, hoping she heard tender concern in his voice and not trepidation.

"Uh-huh, just took a chill," she answered as she snuggled her backside tighter against his belly.

"As for me missing you, you did notice the state I was in when I got here, didn't you? I figured you'd sensed my, uh, distress, and that was why you greeted me all naked and primed and ready to rock."

He knew damn good and well why she was naked and overly scented when he walked in, but he was careful not to let any images of the tall, blond boy into his mind. One day soon, maybe he'd be able to thank the kid for warming her up for him.

Jean rolled over to face him, laid a hand on his cheek and looked directly into his eyes.

"So, no extracurricular activities while you were gone? No cute waitresses or cage fight groupies for a whole month? I'm amazed."

Even as she spoke, he felt her searching his mind for images that would prove that just the opposite was true. She had no idea that he'd been taught to detect the tickle of her telepathic fingers, no matter how delicately she probed. He was ready with carefully constructed mental pictures of him turning down offers from numerous women and then pining away, alone in his motel room, for a certain woman with red hair and green eyes.

"There's only one woman I want, Jean, and she ain't a waitress or a cage fight groupie. It ain't that hard to resist temptation when I think about what's waiting for me right here," he said sincerely.

The feelings he let her access were very real, but the face that accompanied them—Jean's face—was a sort of hologram that had been superimposed over the one he truly adored. The mental 'costume' reminded him of an old joke about how to screw an ugly woman—throw a flag over her face and do it for God and country.

In his case, it wasn't his patriotic duty that had him fucking the wrong woman; it was his need to protect the right one from the evil, malicious bitch drifting off to sleep in his arms.

End Chapter 1.
Chapter End Notes:
I have to give credit where credit is due. The line about the trailer hitch is stolen from Willie Nelson in the movie 'The Electric Horseman'. If you've seen it, I'm sure you remember the line. I don't feel the least bit guilty; if anyone can do justice to Willie's words, Logan can.

Next: A little background, if you please.
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