Logan yanked on the tight black leather choking around his throat, grimacing when his thick, muscle bound arm protested for the very same reason. He growled, flexing his strong gloved fingers, lip curling over sharp white teeth when they squeaked. How fucking ridiculous. Leather cat suits? Who’s bright idea was it to make leather combat cat suits? It must’ve been Storm…
He grew claws at the very idea, eyebrow jacking up at the small amount of freedom the satisfying shredding offered him. Hm. He wiggled his fingers thoughtfully.
He felt a cold stare boring holes into the side of his skull and twisted his neck around, as much as was possible, to see the Ice Prick kid staring at him like Logan’d personally pissed in his cheerios this morning. He cocked his grizzly head to one side and made a show of casually sharpening the foot long adamantium knives at his disposal as if he was preparing for their lesson.
*SKINKT* *SKINKT* *SKINKT*
Bobby’s hands balled into tight fists, like tiny little ice cubes. Logan flashed a dangerous grin and retracted them, not worth his time, to go stand next to Storm as the last of the stragglers filed in from the locker rooms and gathered in a half circle around them, awaiting for their training session to begin. Logan’s piercing gold green eyes darted to the door once more, stomach sinking like a stone.
“Ok, class, today’s lesson is team work...” Storm announced.
Logan squared his broad shoulders and a deep growl emitted from his chest when it squeaked, and threw a dirty look at Storm who was desperately trying to hide her mirth as she went over the new offensive tactics. Of course she would look good in a fucking cat suit… His nostrils flared and he popped his claws once more. He didn't play well with others...