Marie arched her back, forcing the peak of her nipple further into Logan’s mouth. He accepted her offering with relish and sucked hard as his tongue circled the raspberry red tip through the fine layer of silk. He was rewarded for his actions with a moan and Marie’s hips thrusting against his erection, which was pulsing almost painfully with the force of his desire to take her. One gloved hand raked through his hair and she pressed his mouth even tighter to her breast.
“Now?” She asked, her lips close to his ear. She took advantage of her position to suck briefly on his lobe and bite down gently. The brief contact didn’t allow her mutation to kick in, but did allow Logan to feel his cock pulse in time with her bite.
Logan growled deep in his chest. Did she really think she was the dominant one here? He clearly had no choice other than to prove to her who was really on top. And he knew exactly how to do it, too. His inner beast growled his agreement and Logan twisted them around so that Marie was beneath him. He grabbed her gloved hands, encircling both wrists with of his hands and held them above her head. He looked down at her through golden eyes and saw her smile knowingly, with anticipation. He was ready to indulge her. After all, it was her birthday, and he was the one who’d picked out the silken body stocking for her. Wasn’t this exactly what he’d pictured when he bought it? A nearly naked, writhing Marie. Her sex wet and soaking through the silk, the scent of her skin smelling of warm citrus and sweat, beneath him, ready to do whatever he wanted.
“Now,” Logan murmured. He carefully released one metal claw and slit the body stocking around her moist heat. She sucked in her breath as she felt the cool air caress her newly exposed skin and Logan rumbled his approval as he saw how wet she was. He could almost taste her. She’d be sweet, salty, and fresh. He imagined the honeyed taste of her on his tongue as he drove into her and made her shudder and clench against his mouth. And suddenly, he couldn’t stand imagining how she might taste any longer. He bent his head down and inhaled deeply, his beast approving of her earthy clean scent. And before she could protest, he thrust his tongue against her, and licked hard, pulsing his tongue briefly against her clit. Her body jerked under his with the sudden pleasure and he smiled against her as he moved away before her mutation could react to his presence. Fuck. She tasted even better than he could have imagined.
“Oh, God. Logan. What are you doin’?” She moaned, her voice breathy with pleasure. “For God’s sake, be careful. I don’t wanna kill you on my birthday.”
“Relax, darlin’ ,” he said lifting his head to look up at her. “I know what I’m doin’, Marie.” He released her hands and moved to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide so that he could see her and access every inch of her. “Now. Be still,” he said glaring up at her from between the juncture of her legs.
She nodded once and watched him as he moved forward to inhale the unique scent of her sex. He couldn’t get enough of the way she looked, of the way she smelled, of the way she turned him on. If the man were in charge, he would also say he couldn’t get enough of how complete she made him feel, of how he was home with her in a way he never thought possible. He drove forward with his tongue again, sucking hard directly over her clit. She cried out with pleasure and arched her back off the bed. He stopped his movement immediately. “What did I tell you about bein’ still?” he warned, mock serious as he pressed her thighs back down to rest on the comforter.
“Sorry, Logan. I’ll behave.”
“See that you do.” He bent to taste her again and continued his assault with his tongue, his teeth, his lips. Each time the contact lasting no more than a few seconds to prevent her mutation from jump-starting, each time bringing her closer and closer to her peak. He could feel she was nearly there, the muscles in her legs flexed and she curled her toes several times in quick succession. He desperately wanted to feel what she felt like when she came against his bare skin, but he compromised at the last second and reached over and grabbed one of her scarves that was hanging over the footboard. He sheathed one finger in the smooth silk and thrust inside her, simultaneously taking her clit gently between his teeth. She hurtled over the edge and screamed his name with her release, her inner walls contracting in pulses around his finger, making him ache to be inside her. He slowly eased his finger out and retrieved a condom from the nightstand. He couldn’t wait any longer. The sound and feel and scent of her orgasm had unleashed his deepest, most feral need to dominate her.
“Hope you’re ready for more, darlin’,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“Oh, yes. Yes,” she murmured, her face flushed with pleasure.
“Good.” He lifted her up off the bed and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. He smiled as he took in her tousled hair and sleepy eyes. She was his, finally, after all these years. And soon she’d bear his mark and everyone would know it. The thought make him growl with pleasure and he slowly entered her. Inch by inch, he moved into her and groaned as he felt the tight walls of her sex clench against the sudden invasion. Pressing her back against the wall. He was breathing hard as he allowed her time to adjust to the feeling of him as he suddenly prodded against the last barrier between them.
“You sure?” he managed to ask her thickly. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop now, even if she said no. The Wolverine inside was desperate to finally claim her. And the man wasn’t too far behind.
She nodded. “God, yes, Logan. Don’t make me wait any longer!”
And he drove through her hymen in one smooth thrust. The slight scent of blood on the air had him feeling both concerned and victorious. He forced himself to pause and he leaned forward to breathe in the scent of her skin. He licked down the column of her throat briefly and she shuddered in response. He couldn’t help but kiss her, exploring her mouth for just seconds before her skin could react. She moaned and moved her hips as if to indicate she was okay, and he needed no further encouragement. He rocked his hips causing him to sink deeper inside of her, and they both groaned at the sensation. Supporting her buttocks with both hands, he began a slow, driving rhythm.
“God, darlin’. You’re so incredible. So beautiful,” he growled as the feeling of her tight inner walls clenched down on him. He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth and laved it to a hard point in his mouth before rubbing his teeth against the peak. She moaned again and her breathing increased, along with the responsive rocking of her hips. She opened her eyes and stared into his, challenging him.
It was if something in him snapped. At once, he withdrew from her, ignoring the sound she made at the loss, and walked back to the bed, tossing her down. She bounced slightly on the mattress and looked confused as he began to stalk forward toward her. “Logan, what-?” But she didn’t have time to ask any more questions. Effortlessly, he turned her around until she was on her hands and knees. “Oh, God.”
To his pleasure, he saw that she was not alarmed at this sudden change of pace, that she seemed excited, willing even, for what he was about to do. He spread her legs roughly so that she was entirely exposed to him. He brought her backside against him and one hand reached toward her front, circling her clit through the silk as he entered her tight wet heat from behind. “Fuck, Logan. God, yes,” she screamed as he stimulated her from an entirely different angle. She raised her hips to meet his with every thrust, the smell and sound of his Marie filling his head as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, his own cock pulsing hard with every heartbeat. Every stroke, every thrust had him getting closer to his own orgasm, and he felt the pleasure spark deep at the base of his cock. Finally, he felt a deep shudder go through her body and her entire body shook with the force of her climax. Her hands dug themselves into the sheets as she writhed against him, and it was enough to send him over the edge. He reached up to bring her entire body tight against his as he roared with his own release, unable to prevent himself from biting down forcefully at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His. She was finally his. She cried out as she felt his teeth close down on her skin. The sound was a combination of pain and pleasure as he held his bite down for a moment too long and felt the hum of her mutation begin to pull against his lips. He quickly jerked back as he continued to slow his thrusting.
“Fuck, Logan. That was close,” she said, a smile in her voice as she collapsed against him. “You said you’d be careful.”
He gathered her close, mindful of any further contact with her skin. It sure as hell didn’t bother him if she accidentally knocked him unconscious because of his own carelessness, but he’d made her a promise to be safe with her. It was, after all, her birthday.
“Happy birthday, my Marie,” he rumbled against her breast, the sweat between their bodies smelling of him and her and sex.
The scene changed then. The bedroom fell away and the warm skin of Marie turned cold against his body. He jerked away from the chill of her skin and looked down into her eyes. They stared vacantly up at him toward the starry night sky, all life, all humor, all warmth gone. He shook her body once. Twice. And screamed with loss and rage as he realized she was gone. His fury at his own failing engulfing him and allowing the beast to emerge, the chains no longer in place to keep him restrained. His voice erupted in the sudden darkness until he was hoarse, but then his fucking body healed the damage done to his vocal chords and allowed him to continue his bellows. His claws were released and he thrust them into the dirt around Marie’s body. He stopped his grief-stricken wild baying only when he spotted a strange shape materializing to his right. He whirled around and his eyes widened in shock as he registered who stood there.
“You couldn’t save her, Wolverine. You serve no purpose to anyone but me.” The cold, soulless voice of William Stryker rang out across the darkness, and Wolverine charged forward, determined to gut the bastard once and for all. But despite the swiftness of his attack, his claws went through Stryker as if he were no more than a projection. Stryker smiled cruelly at him as Wolverine continued to swipe at him over and over, his adamantium claws reflecting the crescent moon with every thrust of his arm. He roared in frustration as Stryker stood there, laughing at his efforts.
After what seemed like an eternity, Stryker reached out and effortlessly grabbed his forearm in mid-swing, his grip an iron vice, unbreakable, painfully crushing, as he slowly forced Wolverine down, down, down into the bubbling green tank. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight as he found himself underwater, unable to breath, strapped down to a metal rack. He screamed, but only bubbles issued from his mouth as he saw Stryker standing over him. His dead gray eyes triumphant as he pushed a button that began the injection of molten metal.
“You’re mine, Wolverine.”
And fire erupted beneath his skin as he screamed in agony.
Logan bolted upright with a guttural cry, claws extended and ready to kill. He was covered in sweat, though he slept naked, and the night air around him was chilly since he’d left the window cracked. He closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down, to give himself time to remember where he was, and that it was just a dream.
But it wasn’t just a fuckin’ dream, he thought. Marie is dead. And he went cold inside as he came fully and completely awake.
He threw back the sheets and began to pace the floor, trying to rid himself of the memory of her 21st birthday. He looked down and found he was still painfully hard and scoffed in disgust.
He could still smell her, could still taste the honeyed sweetness of her on his tongue, still…hear her? He cocked his head to one side as he registered the sounds of Rogue’s distress from down the hall. He clenched his jaw as he started to move toward the door and see if she was okay, before he stopped dead in his tracks. He rolled his neck, enjoying the feeling of popping his joints as he tried to figure out what he should do.
It was the fourth time in as many weeks that he’d heard her having a nightmare. Every time he’d refused to leave his room, determined to honor is word at keeping out of her business. Partially because he was determined to keep this promise, but also because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to prevent himself from touching her. But tonight, with the scent and taste of Marie still so fresh in his mind, he couldn’t help but wrench open his door and stride down the hall toward the noises of distress she was making.
He was half way to her room before he realized he was still naked, raging hard-on sticking straight up. “Fuck,” he ground out as he turned back to put on a goddamn pair of pants. That was the last thing she needed, for a rampaging Wolverine to force his way into her room, his dick preceding the rest of him, as he charged forward with the intent of comforting her.
He grabbed the first item of clothing he could find and carefully zipped up as he headed back out into the hallway. As he neared her room, he could hear her mumbling, mostly unintelligibly words, punctuated every now and then by a, “No, please,” or a grunt of remembered pain. The scent of her fear leaked out through the cracks of the door into the corridor making him twitch. He hated that scent. It made him crazy to think of her in any kind of pain. Even though he knew she wasn’t the same person as his Marie, he couldn’t help wanting to comfort her. I mean, fuck. She’s in another fucking dimension for christ’s sake. She was alone, surrounded by strangers, trying to fit in and find her way home.
He frowned as he leaned his head against her door, trying to decide if he should go in or not. She hadn’t absorbed his memories, or lived through the hell on Liberty Island. What could she possibly be having a nightmare about, anyway? He could only assume it had to do with the scars on her back, and he bit back the growl of rage that uttered from deep in his chest at the thought of someone harming her and marking her so.
He heard her distress increase as she cried out again, louder, her voice full of even more pain, and he knew if he went in there, he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to leave her alone. He’d want to hold her and let her breathe in his scent to know that she was safe and protected. But he couldn’t risk that. Instead, he settled for helping her the only other way he could think of.
He slammed his curled fist into her door four times and barked out, “Hey! Keep it down in there! Some of us are tryin’ to sleep.”
He heard the ruffle of her sheets as she sat upright in her bed, her breathing shallow as she came to terms with being awake, rather than whatever hell she’d been deep into. A muffled, “Fuck” met his ears and then the repeated litany, “I’m free, I’m safe, I’m free, I’m safe.” He lifted one lip in a snarl as he thought of her being anything but free and safe.
Logan heard the shuffle of Scott getting out of bed a few doors down and rolled his eyes as he stepped away from her door, preparing himself to deal with a cranky Cyclops. He was already heading back toward his own room when the sleepy form of Scott emerged from his shared bedroom with Jean. He rolled his eyes again as he tried to avoid the sight of Scott in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.
“What the hell, Logan?”
“Ah, don’t get your boxers in a twist, Scooter. She woke me up first.”
“So you had to go and wake the rest of us up while you were at it?”
“Go back to bed, Cyke.” He paused and looked over Scott briefly. “Clearly you need your beauty sleep.” Logan strode past Scott and slammed his door shut behind him, enjoying having gotten in the last word for once.
He heard a muttered, “Dick,” from Scott back in the hallway before he re-joined Jean. Glad that at least something fun had come out of tonight, he headed toward the window and stared up at the crescent moon. It was the same moon from his dream. The same moon that had been out the night she’d died.
“Fuck it,” he muttered as he reached for a cigar from his nightstand drawer. He wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep tonight.