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Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


Chapter.9.


With a short, sharp intake of air and a stifled wince, Logan, with considerable help from Ororo, finally settled onto the ruffled, unmade sheets of his bed. Relief flooded through his muscles as he relaxed back, no longer having to tense to stop the various pains that ran through his badly bruised body, from hurting so much.


“That’s it.” Ororo soothed softly, as gently as possible, taking her arm from beneath his head, letting it sink back into the uncovered pillow.


“Thanks darlin’.” Logan said weakly, the cut on his lip cracked open again when he spoke, letting a little stream of crimson trickle down his chin, but he tried to say something more regardless, “‘Ro, I’m---.”


“Hush,” Ororo told him quietly as she grabbed a fresh, cotton hanky from the bedside table and dabbed at the bleeding cut, then wiped the blood from his swollen face, “Don’t try to talk just yet---rest.”


Logan nodded at her just barely as his eyes drifted closed, taking away the only sight that was giving him comfort---her angelic face. As he appeared to be falling into the warm, black comfort of sleep, Ororo found herself smiling down at him, despite everything. Looking then at his tattered and blood stained clothes, she considered taking them off, fingering for a moment at the tortoise-shell buttons of his ripped shirt but then she thought it could wait for a while. Moving from Logan’s side, Ororo went down to the foot of the bed and took off his brown leather shoes, placing them mindfully on the floor. Going from the room, she paused at the doorway, looking back at him, laying there now in a deep sleep, his chest rising and falling in the measured rhythm of true rest. He’d done this for her, he’d put himself in harms way for a woman he barely knew---and it was then that Ororo realised she’d never met a more honourable man in her entire life.


* * *


Several hours later...


“Smells good, darlin’.” Logan said as he limped into the living room, a bandage wrapped diagonally from his right shoulder and folding its way around his broad, muscled midriff. From where he was stood he could see straight into the kitchen. Ororo looked up from her concentration on the pan in front of her to smile briefly at him before turning her attention back down to the stove, pushing about its contents every so often with a wooden spatula.

Logan sniffed at the air again, umm, sausages---but they smelled different, more tempting than usual. “What ya cooking?”


Ororo looked up at him again, “It’s a recipe my mother taught me as a child---a traditional Kenyan dish.” Logan cocked a quizzical eyebrow, even though it hurt his bruised face like hell to do so. Ororo laughed good-naturedly at the look and carried on stirring. “You’ll like it, trust me---I just brought the ingredients fresh from a store I know a couple of blocks away.”


“Urr, yeah---I’m sure I will.” He replied still not entirely convinced but willing to give anything a shot and it did smell tempting....after all, when Mariko had first suggested that he try raw fish he’d.....The sudden thought of her made his face darken, he hadn’t really thought about her for such a long time, not without bitter pain and anguish anyway---he could barely remember the good times anymore, it was all another life time.


“Logan?” Ororo asked in a worried tone, as she took in the look on his face. His head shot up in her direction, but still his face held that expression. “What’s the matter?” Her milky brows knitted with deepening concern.


Logan realised what he must have been doing and soon cleared his features of the stain, shaking his head dismissively, he grumbled, “It’s nothin’ darlin, just thinkin’ is all.”


“About Forge?” Ororo asked, lifting the heavy pan from the stove, placing it on the side as she flipped the gas dial off.


“Yeah---and Remy.” He lied, but almost growled the Cajun’s name as his thoughts genuinely turned to him, his blood rising slightly as it passed through his sore lips.


# About time! # Ororo thought to herself, she’d been wondering when Logan would get around to explaining where the hell Remy had gotten to. But given his state on arrival she didn’t want to push it---she knew in her heart that her old friend was safe, where ever he was---he had a true knack of snaking his way out of bad situations. And just as much of a knack of leaving others behind in them whilst he scarpered, as Ororo knew from unfortunate personal experience. “Where did he go?” She didn’t sound in the least bit anxious.


Logan sucked at his teeth as he considered what to tell her, but he knew it was best if he told her the truth. The more he got to know this woman the tougher she seemed---she could handle it, in fact, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if she hadn’t expected her ‘friend’ to pull something like this, she did know him better than anyone else. “I dunno darlin’,” he said, his upper lip curled a little with out him realising. “He just grabbed the stuff and ran---unfortunately, I didn’t get to see where he went as he’d just knocked me out cold and left me fer dead.” Logan couldn’t stop himself from slipping into a bitterly sarcastic tone as he recounted the last part of his severely abridged account of the events of last night.


“What?!” Ororo blurted with utter disbelief as she brought a tray containing the meal she had just prepared into the living room. “Why? Why would Remy do something like that?!”


“Because he knew that---argh!” Logan cried out meekly, clutching at his head as a sharp pain ripped through it, locating from the wound inflicted by the afore mentioned Cajun. He bent the top half of his body down to lie horizontal with his thighs, as if to try and stop the hurt by changing the position and level of his head.


“Oh, Logan!” She exclaimed as she ran to him, all thoughts of Remy and his betrayal put aside at her concern for the man before her. Practically dropping the food she’d made, onto the coffee table in front of the sofa where Logan was, she sat on its edge, going to touch his head and then pulling her hands back again as she wasn’t sure what to do to help. “What’s wrong, are you O.K?” She asked pointlessly, for he clearly wasn’t O. K in the slightest, but what else could she do?


“Yep---yep, I’m alright.” Logan said in severely clipped tones and then sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth.


“Let me look at that.” Ororo requested softly as she leant over and pulled Logan’s hands from their position, stuck firmly to the place that the pain emanated from. He reluctantly allowed her to pry his hands off his head as he sat up, surprised to find that her being so close still got his blood up---even in these most stressful of circumstances. “Ohhh,” she ‘sang’ with the utmost concern, as she examined the awful looking cut at the base of his skull. “Logan, that looks really nasty, you should go to the hospital.”


“No need for that,” he reassured her, without the necessary knowledge to do so, but then again umpteenth years on ‘the force’ taught you a lot about the nature of wounds. “I’ll be fine darlin’---don’t you worry yer pretty little head abut it.”


She was about to spout a diatribe against him for several reasons, the most urgent being his patronising comment, but didn’t have the chance. Logan reached up with his large hands, taking hers from their unwarranted searching at the back of his head, all the time staring into her blue, blue eyes. Holding both her hands in front of him in some kind of odd deadlock, neither could move and neither could tell what it was that was passing between them. All Logan knew was that he wanted her; he wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his entire life. Despite everything, despite Forge and anything else that blocked the path of these potential lovers, he loved her, he was most certain of that fact and something---something about her told him that she loved him too. It was unusually confident thinking on his part, but there was just...something...


Ororo stared down at the man in front of her, knowing that their proximity had gone far beyond what was the social norm, and was rapidly developing into something more---something deeper. She swallowed down hard as she struggled to get to grips with what was transpiring between them, her heart beat faster and she felt a burning desire between her thighs, like none she had ever felt before. Moving suddenly to pull away from him, taking her hands from his, she was stopped when Logan roughly grasped her arm. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned down to look at him and then down at his hand on her arm.


“Darlin’.” He whispered his familiar call to her, uttered in the most lust filled way, that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but. Ororo looked down into Logan’s blue eyes again as her mouth became dry with the shocked excitement of a child in anticipation of trying something new. He pulled her to him, and she fell heavily on her knees to the couch below, her breath becoming heavier by the second. Then she surprised herself immensely at her next action---it was her who moved in and kissed him, baring down on his mouth with the sheer silk of her flawless lips, lips that had been dreaming of this destination for a while now. Soft and light just their lips tasted each other, brushing over one another with the delight and tender nervousness of new exploration.


“Logan...” Ororo whispered into his mouth, wanting to deepen their kiss but scared she may hurt him as she could feel the bad cut on his lip beneath hers---but the decision was taken from her hands as Logan began to kiss her with more force, sinking his bandaged hands into the back of her luscious, thick silver locks. Any pain was more than worth this glorious experience. His large fingers sank deeper and deeper as he pulled her ever closer, searching her mouth on the inside now as his slick tongue found its way over the smooth barriers and into the hot space beyond. She reciprocated willingly, letting hers dance with his, slow and longingly. Almost losing her balance she fell forwards onto him, just about managing to catch herself on the arm of the couch behind Logan’s shoulders. She then shifted position, moving her right leg over to the other side of his body, her skirt riding up her long thighs and Logan was only too eager to help it, disentangling his hands from her hair to do so. He sat back up as he began to kiss her with a fierce passion---but abruptly he stopped when he felt her grinding herself into the impossibly hard erection he was now sporting beneath his trousers.


“Urr---god---I’m sorry darlin’.” He said, running one finger over his lips and looking anywhere except at her.


“What is it? What’s wrong?” She asked huskily as she tried to resume their kiss; but he pulled his head back and then, finally met her blue eyes with his.


“We can’t do this sweetheart---I mean---its---.”


“It’s what?” She shot back quite sharply, leaning back from him slightly and taking away her hot sex from his enlarged groin.


“You’re not a whore O. K?!” He snapped back angrily, then calming a little after a deep breath, he continued, “I like you---I really fucking like you, and I can’t just---not like this---do you understand?” He searched her eyes to see how she’d taken his little revelation.


Ororo looked at him with indifference for a moment, his words stirring questions in her; was she doing this to get back at Forge? Remy? But then looking down at him, and seeing the tenderness in his eyes she realised it was none of these things---she was doing this because she wanted him, she wanted to be with him, she could see that now. And she knew he wanted her... “Logan, don’t put me on a pedestal, Forge did that, and Remy before him and look where that got me.” She moved back forwards, placing herself back onto his straining bulge. “I’m not a whore---but neither am I some virginal girl---I want you Logan, just the same as you want me---no one is being used here,” She kissed him again tenderly, resuming the rocking motion of her hips, “We’re both adults, we know what we’re doing.”


With that, Logan let himself relax, clearing any piques of conscience. Her feelings for him appeared to be as genuine as his for her; although he had to admit the other reason he had stopped was because he had a nagging doubt in the back of his mind with regards to her motives---but they were soon washed away. Gripping at her thighs he joined her in her gentle to and fro rhythm; his hands going up to the tops of her legs and hooking his fingers under the elastic rim of her silk pants. She gasped into his mouth as she felt him lightly caress the bud of her clitoris, sending sparks like electric from her heat up through her entire body. Quivering further, she let her head fall back and bared her neck to him as his touch became faster, as did her rolling hips. Logan took the neck that was offered to him, biting and sucking at its smooth flesh as small groans of pleasure escaped his mouth against it, delighting Ororo even more. She sank her fingers into the back of his unruly hair, careful even in the midst of desire not to touch his gash, clutching at it as she pressed her breasts against him and her thrusts sped up. “Ahhh...Logan...Logan...” She moaned harshly, his fingers slipping deep inside her and he couldn’t stop himself from biting down on her neck---hard.


Suddenly withdrawing his fingers from her and taking his head from her neck, Logan grabbed the hem of her black dress and swiftly lifted the entire garment up and over her head; her raising her arms up as the dress was quickly pulled off and tossed aside. His mouth went to one pert nipple that strained against the white silk of her slip, yet another piece of clothing to navigate, but he couldn’t wait; kissing at the hard little nub before it was even exposed to him. As he went about this Ororo’s hands made their way down to his fly and unzipped him with one fast movement, pulling out his hard penis, caressing and gently squeezing it alternately. His breaths became harsh and rasping as the passion took over him, her touch, her feel, her taste, her smell---it all crashed down on him at once as he tore her slip from her body with one powerful pull, ripping it right down the centre. Slipping the straps from her satin shoulders, Logan took his hot mouth back to her large, perfectly shaped breasts as he laid waste to her knickers in much the same manner as her slip; the clips of her suspenders pinged this way and that as all she remained in were her black stockings---but Logan thought he’d leave them exactly where they were.


“‘Ro---fuck---god---‘Ro---!” He growled through gritted teeth as he felt her hot opening brush against the top of his freed penis; so slick and warm and willing. Pushing himself upwards he had to make two attempts to get into her tight space. She cried out, half with delight at the sensation, half in the pleasurable pain of the stretching feeling the entrance of his large member caused. Gripping hard at his shoulders, digging her talons into him, she closed her eyes tightly as he moved in and out of her. She couldn’t match his actions at first; she’d never been so completely filled by a man before and it took some getting used to. But after the first few slow thrusts in and out (for Logan realised he’d best take it slowly, the last thing he wanted was to hurt her) she finally started to match the rhythm of his penetrations.


“Logan...yes---oh, Logan...” Ororo whispered close to his ear as she tangled her fingers back into his hair and pulled his head back to her neck. Her trembling mouth continued to speak broken ‘sweet-nothings’ as she lost herself to the pleasure of this man, speeding up her rocking hips to keep up as he fucked her harder and harder with every stoke, her vagina giving way to him fully---completely. The rough nap of his unshaven face brushed against her neck as she felt his quick hot breaths against her skin and then the grazing of his sharp teeth.


For an age they rocked and thrust, panted and groaned. In and out, up and down, sweat streaming down the hot bodies of the copulating couple. They fit each other perfectly by now, the inside area of Ororo’s thighs slick with her sweat and the wetness of desire. Her yelps of pleasure began to rise an octave with each one that exploded forth from her parted lips and Logan could feel her time was near, the walls of her sex contracting and detracting with a maddening pace. He fought hard to hold on until her pleasure had climaxed, “Come on---come on, darlin.” He growled brokenly, his mouth brushing against her beautifully defined jaw bone, as her hips ground into him with an ever quickening pace---and then it hit her...


“OH LOGAN! YES, YES, YES, YES!” She screamed aloud, not giving a care for the fact that it was the middle of the day and that the shoddy walls of this apartment block were not particularly thick. Throwing her head back, her thick platinum mane flaying about wildly, Ororo shook with the uncontrollable tremors of a multiple orgasm lapping over her like the waves of the ocean, crashing into the stern of a boat on stormy seas. “AHH-AHH-AHH-AHH...” Her final few cries came out with the momentum of a steam train as Logan continued to buck hard through her orgasm, his fingers digging into her thighs now, pulling her legs as far apart as he could.


Logan’s utterances of ecstasy had long since ceased to have any coherent English form as he carried on his journey to his own personal point of no return. Without warning he shifted forwards, throwing her back onto the sofa and hooking her legs up over his shoulders. He ignored the several pains that swept through him at the change in position as he rode her with renewed ferocity, ramming into her again and again, her recently spilt juices coming out onto the couch below---but no matter. He’d dreamed about doing this for so long that now it was coming true he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to enjoy her to the fullest. Ororo couldn’t believe this was happening as her sex began to contract in the imminent throws of orgasm, so soon after the last one---this had never happened to her before with any of her past lovers---especially not Forge, not that he was a bad lover, certainly not, just that he wasn’t---Logan.


“RRRARRGGHHH!” Logan practically roared as he released himself into Ororo’s throbbing vagina and her second wind swept through her too, like a twister, devastating everything in its path, making her grip desperately at the arm of the sofa behind her. He held himself there inside her for a while longer, keeping her legs hoisted over his shoulders, panting and growling all at once as rivulets of sweat ran down his face, dripping onto his exhausted lovers glistening brown skin beneath. Slowly bending down to her body, letting her legs fall back down to either side of him, Logan brought his mouth down to the smooth plain of her abdomen, brushing his lips against it barely as his tongue darted out and he snaked a trail through the layer of sleek sweat. All the way up her body he travelled until he met his destination---Ororo’s beautiful, quivering lips. She smiled at him as his face came above hers and they gazed at each other---both convinced of the rightness of their actions---they fit together, like hand in glove, and at this moment they both knew it. He kissed her softly, holding her heart-shaped face in between two rough but loving hands and he knew he could never let her go---ever.


* * *

At that moment, Westchester, Salem Centre, the Lensherr Country Compound....


Remy had waited in the large reception hall of Magnus Lensherr’s magnificent country retreat for over an hour now, tapping his toe in an at once nervous and impatient rhythm on the checked black and white tiled flooring under foot. His strange eyes, which were looking particularly blood red today, flowed lazily from picture to picture---vase to decorative bowl---long, flowing drape to elaborate flower arrangement. The entire room was decked out in Art Deco trinkets and Remy couldn’t help but eye up the value of some of the art pieces around him---old habits die hard.


“I trust that when we check this room later,” a familiar sweetly, husky voice called to him from the large double doors that sat across the room from the main entrance, “That we’ll find everything exactly where we left it.”


Remy looked over with a wry grin on his tired face, to see Wanda Lensherr, dressed in her habitual scarlet, her dark hair styled into large, silky ringlets either side of her high, subtly red-blushered, cheek bones, resting lazily on her shoulders. “Good to see yo’ again chere.” It was a half-truth at least. Standing up, he flicked the edges of his grey suit jacket up, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he sauntered across the room towards her. “Remy’s offended dat yo’d tink me so low.” He put his hand on his heart as if wounded and as he came to the doorway, he leant his arm high on it, above his head, looking down at Wanda.


She smiled veraciously at him, and through that smile, said, “Just cut the crap Le Beau and follow me.” Wanda walked away without hesitation or another word, leaving Remy to drop the easy pretence. Nervously readjusting his tie, the thief set off after her, as was curtly requested. Watching her shapely derriere as she strode down the wide, lofty hallway was the only thing that was keeping his mind off the ‘life and death’ meeting he was about to attend.


*


Remy entered Magnus Lensherr’s roomy office just behind Wanda. He stayed relatively close to the doorway as she went round the other side of the desk to stand at her father’s side; her twin brother, Pietro, was at the other side, looking quiet weary and thin, his pure white hair slicked back over his scalp and one pale hand resting on the high back of Magnus’s chair. The man himself gazed over at the Cajun in much the same way that he’d looked at Forge nearly two evenings ago now and he was still deeply peeved that the promise that had been made on that night had been most annoyingly broken. So when he’d received a call from Gambit, telling him he had what he’d been in search of for more years than he cared to remember, Magnus hadn’t been terribly convinced at all---at least not until he’d seen the documents with his own two eyes.


“So,” he began suddenly, taking his lips away from his two index fingers that were joined in a steeple shape. “Do you have them?” He wasn’t in the mood to beat about the bush. Remy didn’t say a word as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out several badly curled and dog-eared leaves of paper. Taking a short step towards the desk he motioned as if he were about to throw them down on the desk, but swiftly pulled them back.


Holding the precious cargo up by the side of his head, in full view he said, “Dis is de end of it, non? Once I give yo’ dese?” He shook the papers almost in time with every word to press his point. Magnus didn’t answer, more over the scowl that had been creeping onto his face truly took hold.


“Just hand them over.” Was the flatly toned reply. Remy hesitated for a second more, before resigning to do as he was told, tossing the papers across the room, only for Magnus to catch them deftly with a swiftly brought up left hand. He unravelled them slowly, like a lover peeling the clothing off his intended with purposeful leisure, in anticipation of what lay inside. Holding them up in front of his face, to block out the increasingly irritating sight of the sweating Cajun, just the first few lines told him---Erik Magnus Lensherr had found his Holy Grail.


*


“Hey Louie, I’m goin’ for a leak, you’ll be O. K, yeah?” ‘Shortie’ Malone was already half-way down the hall way from the Lensherr office when he’d ‘requested’ temporary leave of his post; walking quickly, Tommy gun swinging lazily to and fro at his side with each step.


“Whatever.” Louie replied in an off-hand way around his slim cigarette, hanging dangerously from the corner of his mouth as he flicked idly through the ‘funny papers’. Noting that his comrade was otherwise engaged, Shortie took the opportunity to duck off down the opposite corridor than that that led towards the bathroom. Once he’d rounded the corner, completely out of sight, he upped his pace, rushing frantically towards the phone that sat on a mahogany, flower-laden table in the reception area. With shaking hands the goon picked up the receiver constantly checking this way and that to see if there were any other guards roaming the halls. Hastily dialling the number that was written on a small scrap of paper pulled for his pocket, he trapped the head of the receiver between his shoulder and his sweaty ear. Someone picked up immediately.


“This is ‘Silver Spoon’,” he spoke in almost a whisper, “‘The cat is out of the bag’, repeat, ‘the cat is out of the bag’.”


-TBC-





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