A Good Day To Die
It was the heat, yep had to be, goddamn hittin’ the forties everyday, couldn’t be anything else, but still it was a good day to die. The sun beating down, he stared at the rest of his comrades, splayed out across the lawn, the mighty Beast, felled but only after a brave struggle, that damn Cajun, and Ol’ one eye, he was a prick, but he had to admit, Cyke had put up one good clean fight.
Maybe that was the problem, they had put up a good clean fight, no powers, they’d agreed, shook hands on it, a no-holds barred all out slug fest, only rule was the strict no-no use of powers.
He spat out at the ground beside his feet, they’d stuck to their end of the bargain, but turned out they were the only ones. Coupla hours ago it had turned into a free for all, gangs of them, hordes, masochists, damn vultures, closing ranks, turning on them, Bobby, Pyro, Pete, until the very end, Remy, Beast and Cyke.
Now, now there was just him, last man standing, still flying the flag, still fightin’ the fight, he adjusted his sombrero, running his fingers through his handlebar moustache, throwing his poncho to one side, displaying his impressive wares.
Standin’ alone on the gravel path, squintin’ against the bright light shining on the Academy windows, he sucked in a dry breath and contemplated the silence that hung around him.
His hand drifted down to his belt, the artillery hanging prominently by his left hip, a similar calibre of gun attached to his right. His fingers twitched over the trigger, lips curling into a knowing sneer as the faintest sounds of heeled boots tapping against paving stones caught his ears.
She stepped out into the light, a few hundred paces in front of him, she stood, hat tilted to one side, plump lipstick lips pouting, feet shoulder length apart, leather chaps clingin’ to shapely thighs, a denim shirt unbuttoned right to the waist, and a five star pinned above one breast.
It glinted in the sunlight, and he smiled at the sight of her, his eyes measuring and taking in every inch of her, roving over the curves, down to her hips and the all too large gun belt she wore over them. Her two-toned hair clung to her damp forehead, white streaks lying flat across her face, concealing one eye.
Locked and loaded, she was ready to finish this fight, biting on her bottom lip provocatively; she stuck her hips out further to one side, mirroring his stance, hands hovering over her weapons.
He drew first, snapping the cannon out its holster, holding the barrel firmly in his hands, lips parting into a manic grin as he unleashed its full twelve-shot fury. The gun spat out its contents, its range impressive, his aim more so.
But she was quick, agile and expert at her skills, dodging almost each attack expertly, until he switched tactics. And instead of aiming at where she was landing after a back flip or somersault to, he anticipated her next moves and aimed there instead.
It was brutal, she went down with a loud groan as his shot took her by surprise square in the back, and she fell to the floor, rolling onto her side slowly before lying completely still.
He approached her with caution, the played dirty, could be she was faking, one or two of his comrades had been taken down the same way, he was no schmuck, and he would play this carefully.
She looked up at him with wide eyes as he approached, expecting him to finish the job, and finish it he would, leaning in close to her, he took the guns from her belt and tossed them far out of reach.
She was unarmed, and useless, he leered, suddenly struck by a line in one of his favourite movies, aiming his twelve shot in her face he smiled, attempting his best accent, he spoke, ‘I know what you're thinking. Did he fire twelve shots or only eleven? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a Super Blaster twelve shot repeater, the most powerful water pistol in the world, and would soak your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?’
She stared up at him before she began to laugh…she actually fuckin’ laughed, his hand wavered in confusion. ‘Ha…and ah know what you’re thinkin’, has this heat finally sent her loco? Or maybe, jus’ maybe she’s laughin’ because she brought reinforcements, and given ah have at least twenty gals on ma side, armed with half a dozen pistols and water bombs between them, ya gotta ask yourself one question Logan…do ya fell lucky? Well do ya…punk?’
He whirled around quickly…and found himself faced with a shriek war cry, that little Asian kid, Jubilee or somethin’ was screamin’ her head off… ‘SNEAK ATTACK….AAAAAH!!!!!!’
Next thing he knew he was lying on the ground being soaked to the skin, he caught a glimpse of her amongst the fray, over the shoulders of Storm and Jean, Jubilee and jus’ ‘bout every other girl in the mansion pelting him with water balloons, he caught her laughin’ her head off, stood to one side doubled up, clutching her sides and crying with laughter.
He shook his head and gave up, arms high in surrender, he couldn’t help but smile, yep it was a good day to die.
Coupla hours later he was towelling himself dry in the bathroom when he heard the familiar tapping of toe heel boots, hearing his bedroom door shut firmly he grinned. Drying his hair, one towel around his middle he looked up to see her stood in the doorway of his bathroom.
And what a sight she was, he sucked in another dry breath. It had nothing to do with the dusty heat outside, but everything to do with the gal stood in front of him. And damn was she something to look at.
‘Marie…’ his voice barely carried over a whisper.
She was wearing nothing but her panties, cowboy boots and the gun belt. Criss-crossed across her naked top half, they covered her breasts, hiding the peaks behind the novelty bullets and plastic pistols.
Her cowboy hat pulled low over her eyes, she had pinned her sheriff’s badge to it, and smiling wickedly she leaned in the doorway. He came to stand close to her, leaning into her; he wrapped his possessive hands about her small waist.
She placed her hands over his, resting her head against the door frame, she flashed him a brilliant smile before tapping the brim of her hat, ‘Ya’ve been a bad gringo Logan…this sheriff’s gonna have to ride ya all the way out of town…’
Logan laughed at her words and expression, ‘that’s a god-awful pun darlin’…’ he moved closer and nuzzled her neck.
She sighed as he kissed her neck, offering small bites and nips moving slowly down from her throat to the top of her shoulders. ‘Well it can’t be any worse than your Harry Callaghan impression.’
He pressed himself up against her firmly, ‘Yeah, you know we would have won that fight, if you and your gals hadn’t broken the rule ‘bout no powers…what the hell happened to fair play…’
She giggled, her voice husky, ‘Oh come on Logan…ya know ya love it when ah play dirty…’ Her fingers moved through the hair on his chest, slowly teasingly across his stomach and to the towel wrapped around his waist, she tugged and the fabric fell to the floor.
Her eyebrows raised, smiling wryly she gripped him firmly, ‘Now come on baby, how dirty do ya want it to get?’
‘I’ll let you know when we get it there…’ he promised her, kissing her firmly, prising her lips open with his insistent tongue, he heard her moan as reached for the novelty gun straps.
Raising each one he slipped them over her head, throwing them across the room, freeing the dusky pink peaks of her nipples, he licked his way slowly across the nub of one breast across to the other, a loud gasp escaping her as his rough tongue moved across her skin.
Grasping her hips firmly he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist ans he moved over to his bed, she stared intently at him as she kept hold of the brim of her hat to keep it from falling from her head.
Pushing her back on the mattress, he kissed his way down her stomach; she closed her eye in anticipation as he paused over her panties, inhaling deeply the musky scent of her he worked alongside the inside of her thighs, running his tongue over her flesh, down to her boots, pulling them off quickly before tossing them over his shoulders.
He settled over sex once more, nuzzling over her panties, licking, soaking the material through with his tongue, she moaned loudly as the tip of his tongue probed further, aching for the fabric to be out of the way. He complied by rolling the panties down, she lifted her hips readily and the underwear followed the same path as the boots landing Logan noted with a smile on his lampshade by the bed.
She looked up at him, her eyes darkened, her breath coming in quick short gasps as he worked her to the edge with his tongue. Sweeping across her wet folds, pushing the outer lips aside, to delve deep inside her, kissing, nipping and tugging at her labia, he watched as she reached with her fingers for her clit.
She began to rub furiously, desperate for the friction and the final push she needed, he growled loudly, the sound rumbling and emanating from low in his chest, pushing her fingers aside he reached for her clit himself, pressing against the hardened nub, he rubbed and licked.
He growled again as her back arched, and this far deep inside her, his tongue delving and exploring, his growl pushed her over the edge at last, his rumbling mirrored by her entire body as she arched upwards, screaming as her legs and hips quivered.
She laughed and reached for him pulling him upwards, he rested on his elbows, her beautiful face flushed and damp, as she rode out the last of her climax. Gripping his hips with her thighs, she reached for his shoulders pushing him firmly down.
She settled on top of him, pleased to see his healing factor had down its job and he was back to being fully charged. Turning her back on him, positioning herself over his erection, she shifted so he was buried deep inside her.
Keeping one hand on her head and keeping the cowboy hat pinned there, her other hand she used to brace against his chest as she began to move slowly, building into yet another climax, she smiled and gasped, her reverse cowgirl position giving her all the friction she needed and more.
Logan gripped her firmly by the hips, slamming her down firmly, grinding out his erection; he smiled as the beads of sweat rolled down her back. Hot as hell it may have been, but it was still a damn good day to die.