She’d been running for about twenty minutes, her heart ready to burst from her chest. He almost caught her a few times-- three, to be exact. It dawned on her that Wolverine was toying with her, showing he’d catch her when he was ready to call the game quits, but so far he was enjoying himself. Originally, Ororo flew amongst the trees, not wanting to disturb the ground, but he would follow the breeze. No, if she wanted to get somewhere, she had to move into the deepest part of the woods and stake him out. So far, that was proving difficult.
Having little practice in reading the ground, she couldn’t tell if the fallen branch came from him or from being old. When this was over, she’d ask him to teach her how to track better. It could prove useful. But each time the tree leaves rustled and a twig snapped, her head snapped in its direction and she’d kick her heels up. She spotted him from the corner of her eyes once, crouched beside a boulder that had no business being in woods.
A breeze that wasn’t her own whipped through the trees and Ororo considered putting it to an end, when she remembered how he followed her winds. She gathered several more, moving them in all directions. There! That ought to confuse him. She would have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that he could hear her. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she hurried towards a clearing nearby. Not the smartest move, but she needed to rest her feet.
It was in the heart of the woods, something that made Ororo smile. The grass was soft and without really caring anymore, she dropped onto the earth, knowing she’d probably never wear this nightie again. It was ripped in places anyways. Note to self, wear shoes when you do this again. If you do it again. she thought, rubbing her feet. It felt so good, she let out a soft mewl of relief. The second she realized she’d stopped her winds and made a noise, she stood, running faster than her feet would previously allow towards the lake. She could cover her scent easily in the depths. The water was so close...
Ororo registered the hulking body mowing her over seconds later.
When she stopped rolling-- which (admittedly) was a few seconds later-- she felt huge, playful hands pin her down by the wrists. “Gotcha!”
Her heart raced in her chest, too startled to be amused. After catching her nonexistent breath, she smiled weakly. “Only because I stopped for a break.”
Wolverine snorted, applied a little more pressure to her wrists then pulled up, laughing. He was shirtless and in his jeans: zipped, but the clasp left undone. He wasn’t sweating, and once again, she envied his feeling factor. It wasn’t fair that she was a mess while the only thing out of place for him was his hair, and his hair was always a mess. “Liar.” He winked knowingly.
With new room to move, she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and standing on weak legs. “Care for a dip?” she asked, already moving towards the lake. He followed, then picked her up caveman style, grinning. “Logan, what--”
“Ya looked a little tired.”
“I am capable of walking-- hey!” He smacked her bottom. “What was that for?”
“Ya say ya want me to be nice and then ya don’t let me do the nice things.”
Ororo fell silent, considering his words, when she remembered she was being carried caveman style. “Yes, but did you have to carry me this way?”
He huffed. “Damn, woman, accept that this is happening before I drop yer ass in the lake.”
She huffed. “You will do no such thing!”
It was a bit anticlimactic, but he didn’t, letting Storm down right as the water brushed against his toes. She thanked him, pulling her nightie off, momentarily forgetting the customs of Western culture and nudity hang ups. Swimming in the water, she heard fabric rustling and became aware he was planning on joining her. The stirrings from earlier came back, and she quickly drove them away. While she didn’t have any hangups about nudity, she’d been in America long enough to know other Westerners didn’t just get naked in the sight of another person without peeking. That was her problem. Knowing he’d peeked. It was foolish, but she suddenly felt modest.
He didn’t stray far into the water, his skeleton made swimming a bit of a challenge. With each forceful stroke, the still waters churned, making way for the beast of a man chasing the nymph from the woods. Ororo ducked her head from the splash, something he missed while underwater. When he came up, he was beside her, kicking his feet to stay afloat. It was a weird way to spend his night, but it beat going to Harry’s watering hole and spending a few hours between a barfly’s thighs only to return alone. Sex with a pretty woman was nice, but nobody could brag about skinny dipping with the Ororo Munroe.
Keeping himself in check, he followed when she dipped her head and swam a distance from him. When she first started pulling off that joke of a sleeping gown, he felt himself stiffen. Yeah, he knew she didn’t have the same inhibitions as everyone else, but he did not expect to get that scenic view of her back. He cursed the fact that she wasn’t in the mood for a panoramic shot. All things considered, when he said he wanted to get away from his room, he never anticipated the night ending like this. It involved her-- yes, feeling sullen--yes, but not having a confrontation with Scott and not tracking his wintry goddess.
No, he wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t understand how awful he felt. He followed her languid strokes, finding the pace easy on his heavy frame. Laying his hands on a woman outside of combat was never his thing. In fact, he beat up several guys over the same thing, and yet he’d bruised someone he liked. Genuinely liked. First impressions were incorrect, and yet many of his assumptions were correct. He’d seen her as cold and proud. Well, she wasn’t cold-- it took some getting used to to notice it, but she was a loving person full of emotions. And proud? The word didn’t do her justice. Her nose was naturally pert, as if warning all who crossed her path that she was defiant.
Jean, with all her sweetness, wasn’t defiant. If he cared to make a list-- something he was trying to stop himself from doing-- Jean was the damsel in distress you wanted to save. Something about her called men to act without her asking. Ororo did for herself, only asking when she realized the situation was getting out of hand. And he liked that. Logan wasn’t really the hero type, although Charles swore he was, and liked when people could handle their own shit. Ororo could handle hers, and everyone else’s, while making room for the troubles Logan had. That was something only Charles could do, and fuck if he didn’t admire them both for it.
She paused and let herself buoy. With something akin to effort, he sheepishly gave up the task to paddle in the shallow water . Without opening her eyes, she spoke. “I could control the currents to help you balance if you’d like,” she offered lazily.
Wolverine stopped himself from shrugging. She wouldn’t see the action so it wouldn’t benefit anyone should he do it. “ ‘M fine. Thanks, though.”
A tiny hum escaped her throat. “Would you prefer if we rested on the grass?”
Logan screwed his face in contemplation. “Honestly? Yeah.”
Ororo nodded. “Very well.” She released a breath and fell beneath the black waters, then swam to shore. Logan followed. They both dropped to the shore, Ororo gasping for breath. It was fucked up, really, but... She had some tig ol’ bitties. He eyes roamed, quickly mapping her spectacular body. He wasn’t aware that he licked his lips, but his mouth was watering. The phrase, “Carpet matches the curtains,” came to mind when he spotted the white landing strip. Good Lord, this woman was about to give him a heart attack he wouldn’t recover from, what with her wine colored nipples pebbling. She rolled to her stomach, giving him another view of her bottom.
“What’s Canada like?” she asked, her voice soft.
That took him aback. Of all the things two people could be doing while stark naked in the middle of the night, only she would think about a country too cold for an actual summer. He folded his arms beneath his head and gazed up at the moon. “Different from here, that’s fer sure. Colder, wilder, quieter.” He turned his head to see her nestling her head in her arms. “What about Africa?”
“Different from here. Hotter, wilder, quieter,” she repeated, a sly smile on her face. Once she fell silent and found the perfect spot to rest her head, she opened her eyes to look into Logan’s. “Do you ever wonder why people do horrible things?” she asked suddenly, her gaze intent as if he had all the answers.
He turned to his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “Because they can, darlin’.”
“Oh.” With a slow nod, she closed her eyes and sighed. “I wish we could sleep out here, but I doubt anyone would appreciate seeing us in the nude. Charles least of all.”
That got a chuckle from Logan. “Ya might be right with that one.” He snuggled closer to Ororo, but would never admit it was snuggling. “Maybe when ya have yer house you could.” Well, since the topic was opened... “Ro, I’m building it. Don’t hire that spit fuck, Eliot Constable. I’ll do it and do it well.”
“Oh, I have little doubts about that. What’s the saying? Ah, yes, ‘you’re the best at what you do’?” She pushed herself up. “Come. Before it’s light.” Tugging on her ruined nightie that was conveniently nearby and tossing him his pants, she sighed. “I think I may just crash on the couch and shower in the morning.”
Logan made a face for her benefit. “I always pinned you as the hygienic type.” A thought crossed his mind. By now, they’d both be asleep. “My room’s closer...”
Being too tired to consider how that would look, she nodded. “Sold. If I can borrow your shower and a shirt to sleep in.”
Morning came too quickly. Without having to make the same mistake twice, he knew automatically it wasn’t raining outside. A warm body was nestled to a pillow facing the window, something he had to give up so she wouldn’t have a panic attack. It was a fair trade, she slept comfortable, and he slept without having too many nightmares. If any. Instead of waking to screams, he felt a cloud black on the edge of his subconscious, letting him know he’d slept fitfully, but didn’t have an all out night terror. It didn’t beat a dreamless sleep, but it was a start.
Sidling up beside her, he indulged himself. It was brand new experience for him seeing a naked body like hers and not busting all over himself... Or her. Last night was special, making it to his list of memorable moments, and making it easier to love Roro. He wrapped an arm around her teensy waist, finding he couldn’t confuse-- or purposefully mistake-- her body with Jean’s. No, he was holding Ororo Munroe, and that was perfectly okay. Fantastic even. She was in his shirt, in his bed, in his room. Her and nobody else. The constant nagging of loneliness wasn’t there.
Unintelligible mumbling escaped her rosy lips and she pressed her back deeper into Logan’s brawny chest. Once comfortable, she made a happy sound and smiled. So fucking adorable. Yeah, by all accounts, today would be a good day.
Closing his eyes to get just a little more comfortable, he expanded his senses. Bobby was snoozing happily, whatever crappy song from his iPod finishing its last bar. There was a humming bird right outside, sampling whatever flower was making its home in the bushes. Charles was getting up, but not without a fight. Logan chuckled, it seemed Chuck’s struggle expanded to even mundane things. Jeanie and One-Eye were asleep, their snores overlapping. And Ororo was stirring, fighting the heavy weight on her midsection.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hoping he didn’t trigger her claustrophobia.
“The baseball bat poking into my thigh, Logan,” she mumbled.
“Baseball bat, huh?” he repeated proudly.
A groan was her immediate reply. “Yes. Now go to your bathroom, use your hands, and hit a home run. I’m too cozy to be turned on,” she mumbled, her voice husky from sleep.
Turned on? His erection twitched. He sampled the air and found that scent from before, the one he blamed solely on Scott. Yes, there was Red’s arousal coupled with Scooter’s, but underneath it all was a scent he was all too familiar with and yet estranged from: Ororo’s arousal. It was faint now, as it had been before, but once he caught it, it was heady. Images from last night, how her body was so gloriously and unashamedly naked came back, making the moment even more scandalous than it had previously been. “Turned on, huh?”
Cattish eyes widened, realizing her mistake. She felt his body press firmly into hers, making her body betray herself. “Wolverine--”
“Nice try, darlin’. My hearing is too good fer you to try and weasel yer way out of that one.” He traced a path up her arm, leaning in close. Snuggling impossibly closer, Logan let his breath stir her hair, smelling her arousal grow. His arms wrapped around her feminine frame and let her body mold into his, making sure his “baseball bat” pressed into the curve of her ass. Pressing an experimental kiss to her neck, he felt her shudder. Bingo. He pressed another kiss to her jaw, his hands idly thumbing her sculpted thighs. He nipped her earlobe, then removed a hand from her thigh to turn her chin to face him. Like putty in his hands, she turned.
No time like the present, Logan believed. But someone like Ororo came slowly. If he wanted her-- and he really did-- he’d have to put the charm on, slow, but certain. Hovering slightly above her, Logan wanted to smile. Of course she could wake up looking like a supermodel. “Damn, yer gorgeous,” he said softly, his thumb lazily stroking her cheek. A pink tongue escaped her mouth and swept over her lips. That was all the invitation Logan needed before pressing a kiss to her.
Initial shock passed and Ororo returned the kiss. She mewled, immediately recognizing this was her first kiss in years. Yes, she’d given kisses here and there, but they were to cheeks, booboos, foreheads, and even dollies. His tongue swept her bottom lips, seeking entrance, and she let him, their tongues dueling it out as he moved above her, pressing his lower half into hers. Bright lady, he was a good kisser. A soft moan erupted from her throat and Logan slanted his mouth. Her hands reached up, threading her fingers through unruly locks. She was getting so wet her thighs were becoming slick-- she’d foregone panties in her sleepy stupor. Wolverine offered her some boxers, but by the time the words left his mouth and reached her ears, she was asleep.
He pulled away from her kiss swollen lips when she needed air, attacking her pulse point. Ororo moaned, her fingers massaging his scalp. Oh, how good this felt. She was beginning to feel like a woman. His weight, while... heavy, obviously, was welcome. He felt so good pressed against her... Ororo’s hands wandered over a perfect back, making his hips buck into hers. Feeling emboldened, she took her hands from his back to his hairy chest, her nails gently scraping over his nipples. A strangled moan left his throat and hit her right between her thighs. The tension between her legs was becoming too much and if the only thing between them was a shirt and a pair of boxers, what was stopping them? The same though must have crossed Wolverine’s mind for he began unbuttoning his shirt. Jean might have gotten the kiss, but Ororo was about to get the dick.
Ororo’s eyes widened as she felt his meaty paw cup her clothed breast. Oh, no, why now did she have to face reality? Jean and Scott were a few feet away, and she was in Logan’s bed. It was bitter, but she felt like a replacement, just another notch in his bedpost. If she slept with him, not only would their friendship be irreversibly damaged, but so would she. Logan didn’t have an honorable track record for the most part. When he slept with a woman, it was always a one night stand, or two, if you were good enough.
Her body sang, screamed for one measly orgasm, but she couldn’t do. She couldn’t warm a bed, be a fantasy or fetish, or a stand-in. It wasn’t pride that pushed him back, it was self preservation. In the memory she called her “sex life,” disappointment quickly followed. And the man she was with had a PhD in disappointing women. “Stop, Logan. I can’t,” she managed, her voice pathetic to her own ears. Logan heard how shaky it was, too, and nipped her lower lip for trying. His other hand joined the first and he began unbuttoning her even faster. “No,” she whimpered. Images of Forge and loneliness hit her. Suddenly looking up at his ceiling, the trifecta hit. Claustrophobia settled and her chest heaved. She didn’t even realize she sent him flying.
A seriously aroused and confused Wolverine rubbed the back of his head. “What the fuck, Ro?”
Ororo quickly sat up, buttoning the shirt. She needed to get out before something bad happened. “I c-can’t. No,” she stammered, sitting up and smoothing her hair. She hurried to the door, missing the worried looks she was getting. “I can’t.”
Just because he respected boundaries didn’t mean he always liked it. When he was rejected, he’d shrug it off and find another willing body, there was always one in the wings. This time, though, he didn’t want another body. He wanted that glorious chocolate toned women who’d donned his shirt and smelled amazing. The kisses she shared with him were tantalizing, giving his morning wood an extra kick. When she left-- abruptly-- a cold shower of fifteen minutes couldn’t wash away what she made in five. Not that masturbation was something new to the Wolverine. For as old as he was, it probably was a hobby in another life.
What had he done to her to make her so freaked? So he’d pushed the boundaries, and maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing, but she looked ready to have a full out panic attack. He noticed that after he got up from the floor. That wind trick wasn’t so much fun when it was you flying across the room. It would be smart to ask her why she reacted so negatively, but he couldn’t help but feel like giving her time alone was smartest.
And smart meant he had to wait. Which wasn’t his style.
“Ain’t no point in hiding,” he barked. Jean “appeared,” her red hair winking at him. It had been for about a minute, but he smelled peppermint before then. Nobody could get the drop on Logan.
“I originally came here looking for Ororo,” she explained. “She tends to... swim in the buff.” Logan nodded. So it wasn’t a one time thing and he wasn’t special for it. “Have you seen her? I saw her coming out of your room this morning...” her voice trailed off.
“Try her greenhouse. Or her loft. I haven’t seen her since she left my room.”
“I did.” Jean brushed back a lock of hair. “So, you and Ororo, huh? That’s unexpected, though not unpleasant.”
Logan shifted, his skin crawling. This really wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have. One girl was becoming a major problem while the other one stayed a problem. Charles really ought to have picked uglier female leaders; these two were too much temptation for one man to handle. “Is there something you want, Jean?”
A copper brow rose. “Just Jean? My, my, you really do like her.” Something like a snarl incited bubbling laughter. “Relax, I’m not here to make you uncomfortable. I’m here on a mission, and you can help.” She faced him, her face serious. “I’m supposed to be going to breakfast with Ororo, but I haven’t seen her. In fact, I can’t even contact her via telepathic link. While I’m sure it’s nothing, it’s just not like her to run off.”
No, it really wasn’t. That was Logan’s line. Just because he didn’t doubt she’d be back didn’t make her departure any less unsettling. Was she really not in the house? Where would she go in case of troubles? And if Jean couldn’t reach her, was she hurt? Questions without answers, and he found the phrase really annoying. He stood up, trying to remain cool while freaking on the inside. She wasn’t about to pull a Wolverine without being Wolverine. “Where she usually run off to when she’s feeling shitty?”
“Other than to Gambit’s?” Gambit? Jean raked a hand through her hair, “She likes to visit this trendy cafe.” Jean caught the look in his eyes. “Logan, if she wants to be alone, let her be alone. I was just wondering if you’d seen her. I’ll let Scott know she’s indisposed,” she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the house. She started leaving when he called after her.
“What’s the name of the ‘trendy cafe’?” he asked making air quotes. He couldn’t even begin to think of what a “trendy cafe” could look like, but he felt like there were hippies galore.
The name wasn’t trendy at all. A battered wooden sign read Agatha’s in chipped red paint, something Logan felt wasn’t intentional; the glass door had the same fare. A little bell alerted the small crowd of his presence and he felt like the consummate outsider amongst outsiders. And they were. A flock of young teenagers, some college yuppies, an old couple still trapped in the sixties, and a mommy with her squalling five year old made the backdrop for the bookstore/cafe. A sample of the air let him know only hand-me-downs were in here, the scents were old and faint, but they came from everywhere.
Trying to be inconspicuous, he followed the scent of rain and vanilla. There was a second level, something he didn’t originally notice due to the clutter of books. If this was what was trendy, looking like you belonged in the seventies hippy scene while dressing like you took acid, Logan wondered what the hell Ororo was doing here. Ro might’ve worn long skirts from time to time, but she certainly didn’t look whacky. She was sitting in a wingback chair sucking some aromatic tea from a straw and plastic cup, reading an ancient copy of 1984, in a maxi dress and sandals. Gone was Logan’s shirt. He felt bereft of the sight.
She placed down her tea, flipped the page, and continued reading, oblivious of his presence. His boots never made a sound as he approached her. He dropped his heavy frame into the chair beside hers, he picked up her tea, took a pull, and plucked the book from her hands, acting innocent. Once he swallowed, though, that’s when the innocence stopped. “Shit, this is good,” he swore loudly. On purpose, of course. “It ain’t Molson but I can see why ya got it. Is that a rose?” he asked, looking at the bottom of the cup. “Huh.” He took another pull.
“Really, Wolverine?” she started, her ire rising and eyes whitening.
He wagged a finger. “Uh-uh, Storm. Don’t give yerself away, now.” Ignoring the heated look she was giving him, he licked his calloused thumb and continued to pretend to read. Without knowing much about the author, Logan knew every line of the book, something that unnerved him. He could do it with plenty books, actually, and have never opened them once... to his recollection. Though Logan liked to think it proved a sign of intelligence in him, something that carried over from his past life.
Flipping another page and still not paying attention to Ororo was becoming funny. In a huff, she stood, searched her purse, pulled out a five and stormed off. She was still in the building so he didn’t get up. After three minutes, she returned, a new tea and hot cinnamon bun in hand. She took a bite from her bun, placed it down, and sipped her tea. He placed the book down and snatched the bun without much of a fight. Not that she could take him with his reflexes.
Hey, she started it. She acted weird so he would act weird.
Apparently Ororo had had enough. “What, Logan?” she couldn’t continue... whatever he was doing.
Swallowing the cinnamon confection, he spoke. “You ran off. And not very well, might I add. I found ya relatively quickly.” He wouldn’t mention Jean’s tip out of self preservation.
“Maybe I should take notes from the master, then,” she retorted. She caught the wounded look. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry--”
“Save yer sorries fer when they’re needed.” He lowered his voice. “What happened this morning?”
“Several things if memory serves,” she said dryly.
“Don’t try and give me some bullshit, Ro. Things were hot and heavy one second, then confusing the next.” He paused. “Talk,” he demanded.
Palming her face, Ororo wildly shook her head. “It...” A noisy groan somehow wormed its way through her knuckles. “It’s about a guy.”
“Gambit?” he queried.
“Wherever did you hear that name...” Her head shot up, and odd smile on her face. “No, but he does make an appearance. In fact, he’s very much part of the reason you’re talking to me now. The night you tried to run, do you remember my words to you?”
“Course.” They’d been haunting him ever since. If there was a moment he started to really wonder about Ororo, that would be the defining moment.
She rolled her eyes back and wiped her face, licking her lips. “There are many reasons, but one of them has to do with Forge.” He’d never heard the name, but something told him he wouldn’t like the guy on sight if he did. “And you. And Jean.” She held his gaze, “What part do you want to hear first?”
“Forge,” he blurted, not wanting to hear about himself or Jean, because he knew what she was going to say.
“When I was eighteen, I was romantically involved with a mutant named Jonathan Silvercloud, or Forge, as his gift granted him the ability to make his inventions practically come to life. I was so in love, Logan. I wanted him and nothing else. And I suppose on some level, so did he.”
Ororo’s face drooped. “But he was much older than I. He was offered a job in Arizona and wanted me to go with him... as his wife. He proposed, and I asked for some time to think about it.” Logan winced, he could already see where this was headed. “He said he was fine with letting me think things over, and we made love that night. My first.”
Raising a hand and turning her face from it, she sighed. “Where I come from, a woman’s virginity is special, given only to her husband. My decision was all but made the moment I let him bed me. And when I went to his apartment to tell him as much, I caught him with another woman. An escort, as if to worsen the blow.” Somewhere in the world, Jonathan Silvercloud probably should’ve started writing his will. “I said it was over, but he left me with the parting gift of a low self image. He called me ugly, if could you imagine. I’d lived my whole life believing I was somewhat attractive. But it’s amazing the things you question when a loved one says otherwise.”
Didn’t Logan know. “So then what?” he asked, once again wrapped up in the story of Ororo’s life.
“What else? I became depressed. The one thing I’d guarded from pedophiles and rapists in Africa was taken by a man who slept with another woman hours later. I was alone with Scott, Jean, and Charles: three people who wanted my happiness but aided in my loneliness. They treated me like china while going on about their business. It was suffocating and I just wanted to get away. So I did, and ended up in New Orleans.” A secret smile lightened her face. “That’s how I met Gambit. He pulled me up from my depression and pushed me to return to the mansion.” She made a note to call him tonight. She’d gone too long without talking to her Remy. “I couldn’t do it again, Logan.”
They took sips of rose tea from their respective cups and shared the cooling cinnamon bun. Pedophiles? Rapists? Ororo’s only had one sexual experience? “It was just sex, Ro, I wasn’t gonna try and marry ya--.”
She scoffed. “That’s part of the problem. I can’t do ‘just sex.’ It’s impossible for me to separate the two and it would be even harder to have sex with you.”
“No, it ain’t, Ro,” he jibed, “you’d kiss me, I kiss ya back. There’d be some touching--”
A hard glare stopped him. “Not the function, the feeling. I couldn’t sleep with you knowing I’d just be filling a void for Jean.”
“Flamin’ hell, Storm, that’s an awful thing to say--”r32;
“And yet, you are not denying it.” She rubbed her neck, an unconscious imitation of Logan. “I like you, Logan, I really do. But I don’t want to feel used.”
He wanted to be angry. Really, he did. An accusation like that was harsh but it wasn’t unfounded. The woman Logan looked up to-- and was on his way to idolizing-- was self conscious. And damn, was it well hidden. He had no idea she felt that way. Logan was right-- he disliked Forge without ever meeting the prick.
Gently squeezing her thigh, Logan gave a smile he copied from Chuck. “That ain’t true. Back in my room it was just the two of us. I swear.” Ororo peeked at him, her lower lip worried by a set of pearly whites. “I’m not gonna lie ta you because you’re strong enough ta hear the truth, but yeah-- I wanted Jean. Part of me still wants her.” Ororo let out a small huff. “But I want you, too.”
With a straight look, Ororo moved her knee from Logan’s touch. “Sex would ruin our friendship.”
“I know.”
Ororo wanted to roll her eyes. This man really had no stop on his libido. For his age, Ororo sometimes wondered if he was really a fifteen year old boy with the ability to morph into a thirty year old man. There was no other way of explaining his endless need for sex. “You know and you were willing to sacrifice it over maybe ten minutes?”
“I last much longer than ten minutes,” he defended. She shot him a look that made him straighten up. “Sorry. But I do!” Her evil look deepened and Logan knew better than to push it. “Fine.” He inhaled deeply, knowing he needed to placate the situation and fast. Their friendship was new and he already found himself loving it. Sex would definitely ruin the situation. She had him there. “While I can’t just forget about what happened this morning, I won’t make any attempts ta repeat it.” Yet. Thrusting his hand out, he gave her a sober look. “Deal?”
Ororo narrowed her eyes, knowing he was telling a half truth. But for now, she had to accept what he said. She took his calloused paw. “Deal.”
For now.
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