As Marie stepped into the cell, she knew she was sending a message. Logan had asked, and her actions had replied: despite the angry words, despite his guilt and her wide-eyed shock, she was okay with this. Whatever this might turn out to be.
The sound of chains rattling caught her attention, and she turned her head, her gaze falling on John as her lips parted with a gasp.
How was it that she had managed to neglect the fact that what happened in this room wasn’t just between her and Logan? She had been so caught up in their little game that she had momentarily forgotten that they weren’t the only ones playing. John had been there yesterday, had been forced to watch Logan fuck her. She had needed the revenge, but it was cold comfort now, and she couldn't help but consider what it must be doing to him.
Her eyes travelled over him, curiosity appearing on her face as she realised he’d been cleaned up. There were bandages on his chest; his nose was also covered. She looked down, seeking the telltale parallel cuts, but they were no longer visible. The leg of his pants had been cut open, and his upper thigh was also swathed in bandages. Brown stains dotted his body from where iodine had been applied to the smaller cuts and scratches.
She turned to look at Logan in silent question. She had no doubt that what was happening here was being kept secret. His eyes weren’t on her though; they were on John. She didn’t like the way the corner of his mouth had started to curl up.
“What's the matter, Johnny? You don't look happy to see your girl. Worried that iodine and bandages don't do it for her?”
Pyro narrowed his eyes at Logan's attempt at humour, while Marie hissed in disgust. She moved, regaining Logan’s attention with her suddenly languid posture.
“Actually, sugar, Johnny’s never had a problem doing it for me,” Marie purred, walking over and crouching in front of him, fingers tracing lightly over Pyro's newly-bandaged chest.
She ran her eyes along his bruised lip, and thought about kisses, long and slow and shrouded in silk. Thought about the things they'd whispered. She watched his eyes darken, and wanted to know. Needed to. Marie leant in, her lips lightly brushing against John’s, testing his reaction. She heard him suck in a breath, heard the rattle of his chains as his hands shifted slightly closer to her, his fingers brushing her covered leg. She pressed her lips to his, a tremor running through her body at the familiar warmth of them. She lightly traced his bottom lip with her tongue, seeking entrance, but also tasting that hint of cinnamon that belonged to John and no one else; a flavour she had missed.
He didn’t deny her, parting his lips willingly—almost eagerly. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, registering the fact he didn’t taste like his usual mouthwash. Instead of a blast of chemical mint, she was overwhelmed with his spicy flavour, stronger and more pervasive than ever. So him, it triggered a flood of memories. Her tongue explored every inch, comparing the sensation of his tongue, his teeth, the cavern of his mouth with the slippery feel of wet silk that had dulled their kisses previously. He groaned as she started to coax his tongue, one of his hands gripping her top to pull her closer. She moaned as she sucked on his tongue, her hands gripping his hair to keep her balanced. Just as he started to explore her mouth, a strong hand gripped the back of her shirt, yanking her off John. She grunted as Logan propelled her across the room, his gaze on the fire starter. His claws sprang from their housings, the sharp edges trained on Pyro’s throat before Marie could pull in a shocked breath.
Logan dragged the adamantium blades over the vulnerable flesh, hazel eyes burning into Pyro’s blue. “Don’t tempt me, boy. I’m the only reason you’re still breathing—and nobody’s gonna look if I want to cut off your cock. Maybe I’ll give it to Marie to put under her pillow, make sure that’s the last thing she’d ever see of you. I’m your only link to her, just remember that.”
John was shaking, sensing it was no idle threat. The cuts weren't deep enough to cause any real damage, but the moment Logan took the blades away, John could feel lines of blood welling from the broken skin. Another reminder of the older man’s need to dominate, three red lines across his jugular to match Marie’s twin bite marks. He wondered if there was a message in that, but the thought frightened him too much to contemplate.
Logan turned back to Marie, the traces of blood on his blades fluorescing in the harsh light. Hooded eyes pinned her, warned her. Don't push me. She hesitated, but threw back her own glare. The idiot needed a fucking push. She just had to pray he wouldn't kill John in the process.
Her lips curved, the expression closer to a sneer than a smile. “It was just two people getting off, Wolvie. Isn’t that what you said?” She advanced on him, closing the gap between them. “But, if it’s just about getting off, what's the problem, Logan? What's a little kiss?”
He held her gaze, a growl rumbling in his chest. “It's called fraternising with the enemy, darlin'. It’s dangerous and there's no fuckin' way I'm gonna let you waste your sympathy on that little prick.”
She brought her body up against his, the heat coming off her in waves. She smiled up at him, the sneer gone. The sinful curve that had replaced it did nothing to put him at ease.
“Sympathy? Is that what this is about, Logan?” Her hands unsnapped their way into his jeans, and wrapped around his cock. Hard. Always hard.
“Now, I know smacking people around gets you hot, Logan. Maybe that's all this is to you,” she shook her head, “but I don't think so. Would you like to see me touch him some more, baby? Bet that would make you harder than those old bones of yours.”
She paused to drag in a quick breath as she felt the weight of him stir in her hand. “Does it hurt? Want me to kiss it better?” His eyes flared at that, and Marie knew she’d struck gold. She smiled, running her tongue along her top lip, and her finger down the length of his cock. His hips gave a reflexive jerk at the touch, his eyes dark as they watched her. She snapped his jeans shut, fluttered her lashes, and stepped back to John's side.
Logan stared at her, his jaw clenching as he fought the urge to growl at her impertinence. She had no right to work him up like that and not follow through. He had every mind to teach her a lesson, pull her from Pyro’s side and…
And what?
Each threat that ran through his mind inevitably ended with him tearing off her clothes and fucking her into the ground. But that would imply complete surrender. He would be damned if he'd admit her tease had worked – some fucking lesson!
He growled as he moved to lean against the door, watching her interact with Pyro. How was it that he resented this fucking boy, and what he had with her? He knew nothing about jealousy, but had a growing suspicion it might feel like this.
Marie tried not to stroke John’s hair. Before he left the Mansion, they would lie there, sated by their lovemaking, and she would tease him and stroke his hair, but now, it didn't seem right. She knew he didn’t want her to show any kind of sympathy for him, didn’t want her to do anything that could be construed as pity. He was looking at her, blue eyes wary.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “What for?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He smirked, his fingers brushing over hers. “If it’s about the kiss, it’s okay. I get it.”
She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow — a gesture she’d got from both men. “Is that right?”
He nodded, eyes flicking briefly to Logan. “It was for his benefit, right?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “Not entirely.”
Logan pushed off the wall, anxious to stop the conversation before it went any further. “Marie.”
She looked at him, standing up as he opened the door. She didn’t look back at John, her eyes forward as she walked out and started down the corridor. She didn’t even wait for Logan, knowing that he’d catch up with her soon enough. She couldn’t help the small smile that played across her lips. It wasn’t the power over Logan she relished. Not really. He was jealous. But was it a simple animalistic possessiveness, or was there some deeper emotion behind it?
Logan kept a couple of steps behind Marie, not even speaking to her when they were in the elevator. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to open his mouth without saying something nasty, or propositioning her. Possibly both.
*
Hank wished that he could have found Logan in a much less … aggressive mood, but he had to speak with him, and if that involved watching the Wolverine tear a Sentinel to shreds, he supposed it was far better for the Sentinel to take the beating than himself.
“Logan?”
A grunt was the only reply, Logan too intent on ripping out the innards of the monstrous machine.
“I was wondering if I might have a few words.”
Logan looked up, a piece of the Sentinel impaled on his claws. “Make it quick, McCoy.”
Hank watched as he went back to tearing the Sentinel apart. He wondered if Logan had even realised that the robot had long since ceased to function. “You asked me to keep what had happened in that cell private, and as such, I feel that it is better that I come and talk to you directly rather than —” A piece of the Sentinel flew past Hank’s head and he dodged it. He looked back at Logan. “Was that completely necessary?”
Logan flashed him a toothy grin before scowling. “Not really. Just get to the point.”
Hank sighed. He had hoped to broach the topic with at least some measure of decorum, but if Logan needed him to be direct, then so be it. “She’s very young, Logan.”
Hank stood his ground as Logan leapt off the Sentinel, closing the gap between them quickly. His claws were still unsheathed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hank met the piercing hazel eyes, determined not to back down. “I don’t know what you are to each other, but what I sensed in that cell … Logan, I realise you want to make our enemies suffer for what they have done, but does she need to be involved?”
Logan growled, stepping in that little bit closer to Hank. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Beast?”
Hank raised his hands. “Nothing, Logan. I just think it would be best if you kept such activities confined to the bedroom in the future.” He paused; worry flitting across his features. “And I pray that it is sex, Logan. Not something else.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes flashing. “Not everyone in this room is a genius, Doc. Say what it is you're trying to say already, or fucking drop it.”
Hank swallowed, grimacing as he thought of how to phrase what he needed to say. It wouldn’t be wise to provoke the Wolverine while he still had the claws out. “I understand your need to punish the boy, Logan, I really do. I just want to make sure that you’re not hurting Marie as well. Both of you have to live with whatever is happening in that cell.”
Logan sheathed his claws, breaking eye contact with the doctor.
Hank started to raise a hand to place it on the other man’s shoulder, but reconsidered, nodding instead. “Just something to consider, Logan.” He turned to leave, wincing at the disconcerting soundtrack of machinery being torn apart behind him.
*
Logan refused to run despite the fact he was late for a combat training session. He was in charge, and for that reason alone he could afford to be fifteen minutes late. If, however, any students walked in after him, that would be a different matter entirely.
His session in the Danger Room had lasted longer than expected, Hank's uncomfortable observations demanding he gut an additional Sentinel or two. He stormed into the gym, hazel eyes narrowing as he checked to see if everyone was present. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Marie refused to look at him, her brow creased in a frown, mouth set in a thin line.
“Pair up, work on the drills we went through yesterday. Marie, you’re with me.”
She walked towards him, arms folded over her chest. He growled at her lack of professionalism, unable to stop himself from berating her.
“Marie, stop acting like a petulant child.”
“Fuck you, Logan,” she said, forgetting their audience.
Gasps resounded around the room, and all eyes swung to the pair. Logan, however, was oblivious.
“You wish, darlin’. Get your sweet ass over here and warm up. That's a fuckin' order.”
Marie gave him a look, brown eyes sparkling as an eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He watched with a little too much interest as she turned her back on him, her body bending forwards as her legs parted no more than two inches. Her palms were flat on the floor, and his eyes stayed fixed on her ass as he all but salivated at the sight. She pushed down a couple times, his eyes following every movement. She then slowly straightened up, his gaze dropping from her ass to where her hands were journeying up the inside of her thighs.
He became acutely aware of the fact there was no noise coming from the rest of the class. He reluctantly tore his gaze from her ass, a growl escaping him when he found all eyes trained on him and Marie.
“I'm not here to teach you how to stand around, so get the fuck back to practicing your defensive techniques.” He looked back at Marie, his brow lowering at her obvious amusement. “Let's get this over with, I got a beer and a Cuban callin' my name.”
Marie stepped up to him, settling herself into a defensive position that mirrored his. The scowl on his face lost some of its dark edge as the sound of students sparring reached his ears. He focused on Marie, watching as she started to advance on him. He dodged her first two attempts easily, his blocks stopping her from making contact. He growled at her to try a bit harder, but her response made him wary. Pissed off he could handle — the wicked smile that lingered on her face at his admonition, however, made him pause.
Marie manoeuvred in close, her hand darting past his defences to land a solid jab to his solar plexus. Logan doubled over, feigning pain to his gut. She stepped in closer, her hand coming up to deal a blow to the pressure point in his neck. He grabbed her arm before she made contact, pulling her in close as he straightened up and bent it behind her back, teeth bared as he growled. She swung around, trying to get her palm to his chin in an effort to shatter his lower jaw against his top one. He grabbed her arm before she made contact, and bent it behind her to join the other arm already pinned there. Using the twisted arm as leverage, he pulled her in close, the force behind the pull causing her to cry out in pain. The move pulled her flush against him, her breath puffing against his face. He dipped his head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. She turned her head, teeth gnashing at his ear. He moved his head out of the way, growling low and deep as he knocked her feet from under her, and pushed her to the mat.
Moving quickly, he straddled her. Pinning her hands above her head before she'd had a chance to catch her breath, he ran a hand down her chest, his fingers stopping between her cleavage and above the breastbone, before addressing the rest of the class. “You've got two choices when your opponent is down, submission, or disable. A blow to the chest here,” the words were followed by a light jab where his fingers rested, “is a disabling blow. Enough pressure here and you break the bone.” His eyes held her gaze. “Submission is about causing pain, without lasting damage.” And we’d know all about that, wouldn’t we darlin’?
He turned to the class. “Another fifteen minutes, then hit the showers.”
*
Logan waited until the last of the students left the locker room before entering. He turned into the first row of lockers just in time to see Marie pull on a tank top. His gaze travelled her body, taking in the expanse of creamy skin covering her stomach before she hid it beneath the black material.
She placed her hands on her hips, looking at him. “Something I can help you with, sugar?”
Logan frowned as he closed the gap between them, a finger pointed at her. “You don’t ever bring our personal life into the classroom again. Be a fucking professional, Marie.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You were the one smelling my hair and straddling me, darlin’. How was that keeping it professional?”
“You were the one being a fuckin’ tease, so don’t put it on me.”
She stepped in close, her head tilted so she could look up at him. “Felt good though, didn’t it, baby?” Her hand ran from his belt buckle, up his chest. She pressed her palm against him. “Not having to worry about whether you were hurting me, or not? Just letting go…”
He grabbed her wrist, backing her up until he had her pressed against a locker. He glared at her, remembering how she had bent over and waved her ass in his face. He felt the heat that had started percolating in class increase yet another notch, and then reach boiling point. It mixed with the anger he felt at her forcing him to be rough with her, and the guilt at how much he had enjoyed making her cry out. Perving on her, lusting after her, in full view of the class, no less.
Then her tongue came out to wet her lips, and he dipped his head to press his lips to hers. He felt her free hand slip under his singlet, her fingers running over the sharply defined muscles of his abdomen. He trailed his tongue over her bottom lip, his hand tangling in her dark tresses. She parted her lips, a moan escaping her as his tongue entered her mouth. He started to explore her depths, but she started pushing against his tongue with hers, stopping his attempt to gentle her into submission. He growled quietly, his grip on her hand tightening. She pulled back, breaking the kiss before moving in again. Her teeth caught his bottom lip as she nipped at it, trying to draw blood. He tugged on her hair, pulling her back. He stared at her, hazel eyes searching brown before his mouth crashed against hers. He pushed his tongue past her lips, probing and demanding, this time offering no chance to go slow, to stop, even to breathe. The hand under his singlet moved, her fingers starting to slide beneath the band of his jeans. He quickly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he caught her hand before she went too far.
She looked at him. “I shouldn't like it so much, should I Logan? But you were beating someone to a pulp the first time I ever saw you, and I...” She blushed, unable to explore the motivations of her teenage self. “I can't help it, but God, seeing you like that, seeing you wild...”
The flood of her arousal finished the sentence like no words ever could. Logan gave an internal howl. She liked that! She liked him!
He leant in close, his mouth next to her ear. “Meet me down there tonight. 11pm. Wear…” He thought a moment and then gave in to the fantasy as he brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. “Your green coat. Nothing else.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Jaq for the beta, and also to Jenn.